This is my favorite Christmas movie in the whole world. I have in on DVD, not to mention that I've memorized it beginning to end.

What's your favorite holiday movie?

(BTW, sorry for the weird "videos" for these, guys. Most of them don't have actual music videos.)

(I'm going to start doing holiday songs for a while, I think...)

It's been really amazing having my parents here. They've been keeping my mind off things and spoiling me: Christmas decorations for my apartment, groceries, new shoes, a new coat because I didn't have one, new sheets...

We went up to Napa & Sonoma counties and also Sausalito this weekend. Friday was the V. Sattui Winery and Castello di Amorosa. Castello di Amorosa was very pretty but otherwise unspectacular; V. Sattui, however, was AMAZING. Amazing wine (I bought a bottle of Gamay Rouge, which was sweet and delicious, and also a bottle of port, because I am freaking awesome), amazing food, absolutely lovely.

They had a marketplace full of delicious, fantastic food - meats and cheeses and olives and breads and sauces and it was fantastic. When we sat down to have lunch, the couple sitting across the table from us got engaged, right there! That's the second time that strangers have gotten engaged less than a foot away from me.

Sausalito was lovely. The weather was perfect. We met up with my uncle's brother (who's a firefighter in SF and a really sweet guy) and ate seafood and went into cute boutiques. One, called Hubba Hubba, had these GORGEOUS pashmina/silk scarves for $20. The one that I got is this beautiful olive and eggplant colored pattern. I mean, $20! What a deal.

We've also been having dinner with lots of folks while they've been here. We ate at Frances and Jonathan's one night, had a fun Thanksgiving with rebellibrarian and bigmeaniejerk, and also had dinner at Mary Kay's - she's the woman who lives in the big white house. She's super nice, and Oliver loves playing with her (very large but sweet) dog. She was shocked to learn that I hadn't been to Yosemite, and said "Next time I go, you should come with me."

There are a few problems with my apartment that I need to figure out. There's some mildew that's showing up in a very specific spot in my apartment. My mom and I cleaned it off with bleach/water, and now two weeks later, it's coming back. The gas heater is also not working right - I've been using my space heater, but I'd like to heat my whole apartment and not just a three foot circle around my desk. I know I should just call my landlady, but I'm slightly worried that the mildew is from something that needs a ton of work.

My apartment looks awesome, though - covered in Christmas lights and my little tree and garland and lights around the window and a wreath on the door.

Hey guys!

So, the cards/letters/pictures/presents are all going out sort of staggered, and most of them probably won't be there before Christmas... I had some leftover stamps that I used and some envelopes that I sent out today, but until I get paid I won't be able to stamp the remaining set or send any packages. But things are coming! So, yeah, you might be getting cards some time around New Year's.

First of all: last call for Christmas card addresses! Post your address here or send me an email. (My address is also in that post.)

I've gotten a whole bunch of requests for some kind of Christmas list to be put up. This is more or less a collection of "things-that-I-want" that I've been accumulating for a bit.

1. I can always use userpic add-ons, extra storage space, and more paid time.

2. A Lensbaby.

3. Re-stickable decal photo frames.

4. A box of Fotoclips.

5. The Super-Secret Spy Lens.

6. The Magnetic Photo Rope.

7. Photoshop Keyboard Shortcut Skin (for an Apple Thin Keyboard).

8. An Eye-Fi memory card.

9. Pinups for Pitbulls 2009 Calendar.

10. BADRAP Bust Dog Survivors 2009 Calendar

11. All I Need is my Pitbull t-shirt (large).

12. Open Your Mind hoodie (x-large).

13. A dog is a girl's best friend; a pitbull is a girl's best dog shirt (x-large).

14. Nikon lenses other than my 18-55mm.

15. Dog toys for Oliver.

16. A gift card to Northface so I can buy a winter coat.

So. So so so so.

Real update.

I know I've been kind of absent on LJ as of late (even though today I've posted three really random things). I've made a few entries, but nothing of substance, and certainly nothing detailing what I've been doing in these few weeks after graduation. So. So so so.

Graduation.

I'm graduated. I finished the semester with a 3.73 (three As, one A-, and one very deserved B), had a final GPA of 3.63 (cum laude, if I'm not mistaken), graduated with honors (yay honors capstone!), and I. Am. Done. Actually done. I am a college graduate. I am an alumnus. I just need to get my diploma in the mail.

I started my nightclub job two weekends ago (I didn't do it this past weekend because of the holiday). It was... strange. And exhausting. See, I took the Metro to Metro Center and walked to the nightclub like I did the night of my interview. Except this time, the men's homeless shelter that is on the same intersection as the club had a fire, and there were homeless men in huge numbers in the park across the street, sitting on duffel bags with all of their worldly possessions. I stopped for a while and talked to a man whose eyes almost never left the building. "What's going on?" I asked.

"Fire," he said. "Lots of smoke. It's a men's shelter," he adds. "Everyone was evacuated."

"Was anyone hurt?"

"No."

It was cold. I pulled my scarf tighter and kept walking. I crossed the street and found myself standing in front of the club.

I didn't get in right away. I let a bouncer know I was there. People were talked to, earpieces were pressed and talked into with hushed voices. Women dressed in next to nothing and men in suits and popped collars and reeking of cologne stood in line. Valets parked cars that cost more than my house. It was strange. The poverty right across the street from absolute privilege. It set a strange tone for the night.

Eventually, they let me inside. It was hot, and crowded, and music pulsed from the speakers and made my ribcage vibrate. I spent the night taking pictures. I like them, for the most part. My favorite shot of the night:



And a close second:



I crawled up on things, fought through crowds, lost the batteries from my &%#$@! flash twelve times, had drinks spilled on me, got pushed around, and took lots and lots of pictures. At the end of the night, I uploaded the photos onto their computer and left. I walked home in the cold. The street in front of the homeless shelter was quiet.

Christmas.

I spent Christmas with my family at my aunt and uncle's house in Virginia. It was nice to see my parents and siblings, even if it was just for a little bit. I got some nice presents, and got to hang out with my brother, which was awesome. We stayed up late and talked about God and sex and relationships and life and everything in between.

The best present this year - besides getting to be with my family - was definitely "Santa's" belated present: an Easy Bake Oven.

Yeah. I've wanted one since I was eight. My mom thought it would be kind of funny.

Anyway, the day after Christmas, I went with my brother to the Natural History Museum. We had a wonderful time. I wrote a poem about it a few days ago. I love Mario so much.

New Year's!

I mentioned last night's party a few posts back, but what I didn't mention was that firinel, marnanel, and plexq came and visited before New Year's! It was so much fun. We went to the now infamous used book store near our house, then made our way to Dupont where we ate Potbelly's and went to Lambda Rising (I love queer stores) and Kramer's and just walked around and talked. It was a grand old time. I miss them already!

Life.

The job hunt continues. Right now I'm working a lot of hours at All Fired Up, which is nice because I like it and I like my boss and the hours are good and I feel like I can take a small breather before I enter the Real Working World. This and the nightclub job will pay the bills until I get there.

In other news, I'm eating food again. Which is good, because I was going on ten days without a substantial meal. I don't know what was wrong with me. Whatever it was, it's gone now.

Saturday night, at Applebees, there was a girl sitting at the table next to us. It was just her and her mom. She was reading a book, sprawled out over the table, a little heavyset, her jeans inches above her sneakers, her hair long and wispy. It was so strange to sit there and see... well, see me at the age of twelve, thirteen. When her mom chastised her for reading at dinner, a lump formed in my throat. Strange.

Friday was my last day of classes ever. Unless I decide to go to grad school, which I may, in the future, after I've taken a nice, long break. I have a few critiques/projects to present/things to hand in until Monday the 17th. And then, I'm... I'm done. Totally. Done.

My photo show on Friday was... amazing. Completely and totally fantastic. Over 200 people came through the very tiny exhibit space, and my really awesome grandfather was the hit of the evening (trust the energetic old Cuban man to be talking up girls one fourth his age). I started the evening freaking out a bit (as is my usual mode of operation) but by the end I was so incredibly happy (tired, but happy). Pictures soon.

For Christmas, my parents bought me, among other things, a gift card for Target. I went and bought a CD player for the shower. It is seriously the best thing ever invented. I can shower and do a sexy dance to "Down In Mexico" AT THE SAME TIME! Why has it taken me so long to get such an amazing device?

a.) Saddam Hussein is to be executed in the next 30 days.

I was thinking about this earlier and trying to reconcile the horrors of what Saddam Hussein has done with my feelings regarding the death penalty. Even though it sounds strange, I still maintain that while he should be locked away for the crimes that he has committed, I honestly wish they weren't going to execute him. It turns my stomach that, among all of the bloodshed and death that governments can't stop, they still deliberately execute people. What are your thoughts on this?

b.) I got into a very interesting discussion re: body modification with my family tonight (my mother, father, a smattering of aunts and uncles). I'm very pro-body mod; I believe your body is a canvas and you should be able to do whatever you want with it - pierce it, dye it, tattoo it, implant horns into your head, whatever. My aunt and mother, in particular, were very snitty and dismissive - arguing (both stated and implied) that people who did such things were immature, unable to hold down a job, rebellious young idiots, etc. I considered several arguments before going in for the kill, but settled on the one that was the most satisfying.

"So, why would it be a problem if I, say, dyed my hair blue?"
"Because it's not natural. It looks weird."
"But if I dyed it blonde, it would be natural?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because blonde occurs in nature."
"I submit to you: it isn't natural for a woman nearing or over 50 to have no gray hairs, and yet you somehow both manage to accomplish it. I'd argue that dying your hair a color that isn't your own is just as unnatural as dying it blue."

Of course, they both began arguing with me at the same time. I could see that it made them uncomfortable to have their bi-monthly hair-dying appointments at the hairdresser's equated with people who slice their tongues in two and dye their hair bright purple (Anne, love, I had you in mind the whole time I was having this conversation). I also brought up people who do body modification for S&M purposes, which of course elicited a whole new wave of disgust and snide looks and sidelong implications that those people clearly can't make a living, which I began to refute until I had my mother and aunt so freaked out they eventually left the room under the premise of needing to do dishes.

Carmen: Freaking Out The Relatives Since 1986

c.) From christianleft: Guess who declared war on Christmas?

Apparently, after all of the ridiculous fussing and hysteria over "The War on Christmas," guess where the following well-wishing banner came from?



The Republican National Committee.

I'd add more snarky commentary, but I feel like it'd be overkill. Right now, the satire writes itself.

Well, Christmas has come and gone. I'm currently back in DC, visiting my relatives on my Dad's side of the family. It was a nice day, full of hugs and kisses and presents and food and talking.

My big Christmas present from the parents was money for a new computer (which I will hopefully be purchasing soon) but they also got me a CD (Loreena McKennitt's new album) and fuzzy flannel pajamas. I also got Monsoon Wedding on DVD, a bunch of Target giftcards, money toward my new compy, a Spanish crucifix (from my aunt who went to Spain this summer) and fuzzy socks (that match my flannel pajamas - combined, they make the most comfortable and simultaneously most unsexy sleepwear in the history of mankind) from my other relatives. The best present, however, came from my grandfather. It's a giant pen - maybe the length of my forearm - with a smiley face on the top. It writes and everything, and I'm very seriously toying with carrying it in my purse and using it like a normal pen. My grandfather is the dearest and funniest and most awesome man, and even though it's a small gift, it means the absolute most.

Tomorrow is our traditional day-after-Christmas outing to the mall to redeem giftcards and possibly see a movie (which will most likely be Happy Feet, which I've seen twice but I'll see it again because it's probably the best movie I've seen this year). I need new jeans. I'm happy.

I wrote this last Christmas, and posted it here. I was going to write something new for this year, but somehow, I feel like this piece bears repeating. Also, I'm tired. Happy Holidays, everyone.

***

In the dream, I am walking barefoot through Bethlehem.

It is night, and it is cold. The sky is black but clear and the moon is bright. The town is washed in silver and silence, the houses solid but sleeping figures insubstantial, ghosts on their mats, blowing and breathing like the breezes in the threadbare curtains, threadbare walls.

The stones are cold on my feet, and the dust is between my toes, kicked up onto my shins and thighs, dirtying the hem of my dress. I am shuffling through Bethlehem; I am moving through Bethlehem; I am floating through Bethlehem like a spirit, weightless and be-less and empty.

A child is crying.

The weeping splits the night wide open, a triangle of light that starts at my aching toes and spreads across the path, past wide stone ovens and cold empty ashpits, sleeping dogs and thin gardens.

I follow the light. I always do.

The light stops at a small building at the edge of the town. It's barely there, pale blue and gray and ramshackle and trembling.

Light is diffused through the room by two candles, two misshapen lumps of lard with tiny, blackened wicks struggling to remain lit. Near the entrance, an indifferent cow's eyes flick upwards as I enter, pushing open the door.

The girl who lays on the pile of hay is pale and slick with sweat. Her eyes are spent, the hay is matted with blood and tears. She was the one they called whore, the one they spat at, the one who stood in an empty field as his angel came to her, to tell her, to praise her. Her husband is next to her, touching her hand hesitantly. He doesn't know what to do or say. His hands are rough- carpenter's hands. They called him a fool for keeping her. He is shaking as he touches her.

Neither of them looks at me, and even the cow turns back to observing a spider slowly drawing silk across the rafters. I step one two three across the groaning floorboards.

The child cries again, and there it is, in a trough- a pale fist flailing in the semi-darkness, clasping and unclasping like a child does, he wants, he wants. I step close, close enough to realize that they can't see me- they are too exhausted from this, from life, from everything He wants of them, and I am just another spirit, an errant angel, perhaps come to take him away, or looking for another virgin.

I lean over the edge of the trough to get a look at the baby. He's perfect and dark- skin olive and hair dark and eyes dark. Slightly chubby. He breaks into a baby's toothless, gummy grin and then lifts up his arms. Clasp and unclasp. He wants, he wants. I touch his cheek, and he laughs- a surprising laugh.

"He will be all right, won't he?"

The girl is struggling to get up to look at me. Her husband tries to press her back down into the hay- "Shh, shh..." but she is fighting against him, to right herself. She looks at her son, and then back at me.

"Won't he? Won't he be all right?"

I look at her face, and then back at the child's. He wraps his little fingers around mine.

For a moment, there is a flash of light and blood running through black soil. A scream does to the air what the child's cry did to the Bethlehem night, and "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?" echoes, echoes, echoes.

"I don't know," I whisper. I'm lying. I know. But I won't say.

I stand up from the trough, the broken family, the trusting, milky smile. One of the candles is suddenly out. The barn is too silent for words; any more and the walls will split open, roof collapse on top of this newborn family, still wet and naked and exhausted and terrified of a new, new world.

And I leave the barn, back out into the night, the steady, silent night, tears hot in my eyes and cold on my cheeks, walking barefoot, barefoot through Bethlehem, thinking of the mother with the wet hair, the father with the rough hands, the baby with the dark eyes. Everything is different, I think, though I don't know why, not yet.

And I amble through Bethlehem, seep through Bethlehem, run through Bethlehem as the people of Bethlehem sleep on, sleep on.

All right, everyone...

Merry Christmas, Feliz Navidad, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanza, Blessed Winter Solstice, Happy Festivus, Happy Decemberween, Happy [Holiday That I Have Somehow Managed To Leave Out], etc.

Happy Holidays! :)

(And even if you don't celebrate anything, have a wonderful, wonderful day.)

Everyone stay safe and happy.

And that is all.

So, I'm in the middle of watching House when I see this commercial.

I'm going to recreate that commercial, replacing the doe-eyed mother with myself and her husband with Johnny Depp.

*couple wake up in bed hearing faint echoes of music*
Me: Honey, do you hear that?
*go downstairs, gorgeous children in tow*
Celine Dion: O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree...
Johnny Depp: Is that... is that... Celine Dion?
Me: Yes. Yes it is. Honey, go get the shotgun.

Because, seriously. Wouldn't you be freaked out beyond all reason if you woke up in the middle of the night because Celine Dion was singing under your tree? What a creepy commercial! And then to end it with bottles of perfume labeled "Celine." Geez. Tell me you didn't think that the whole family clubbed Celine over the head with a vase and then distilled her scent into a perfume, a la Jean-Baptiste Grenouille. That would have been a truly superior ending.

First and foremost: I totally rocked a 4.0 this semester. Sweetness. Also, the school has officially changed my major to Interdisciplinary Studies: Creative Expression. Very exciting.

I was going to do a detailed breakdown of all of my classes, but this is the most energy that I can muster:

Poetry: Adored professor and relatively easy. No complaints.
Fiction Writing: Aside from the fact that half of my classmates made me want to kill myself on a regular basis? Perfectly fine.
Painting: Turned out better than I thought it would.
Fine Arts: Gratifying if expensive. I cried during my final critique. I'm nuts. What else is new?
Film & Video: Iwan is amazing and this class was a lot of fun. Yay!

I just got back from two days of hanging out in Jim Thorpe with Tom&Rich, which was lovely (we ate food and scanned pictures and talked and watched Firefly and wrestled and shot an onion out of a giant potato gun, among other things). I think I'm going to enjoy sleeping, reading, and visiting friends for the next couple of weeks. Also... possibly working, if I can find something to do for a week or so.

Some linkage...

Someone I hate as much as Ann Coulter. I didn't think it was possible. (*edit* I'm referring to the author of the article, not Barack Obama.)

According to a new study, 95% of Americans have had premarital sex. Which I find really, really interesting.