Sunday, December 30, 2012

Merry Christmas

  The week before Christmas should be the best week ever. But it wasn't for me. In fact, most of December was pretty rough. I pulled a muscle in my neck and injured my leg. So I've been in almost constant pain. To make matters worse, much worse, I've spent the last month or so on a Russian literature kick. Don't read The Brothers Karamazov and Anna Karenina back to back, unless you want to be depressed. (The worst part is that I think the fact that I'm depressed means that I didn't really understand either book and I should probably re-read them.) I also realized that any deep or original thought that I thought was my own, has already thought of and deconstructed and metaphored by a Russian who lived over 100 years ago. I'm going to solve this problem by hanging out with people who are dumber than me-- if I can find some. See how long winded I'm getting? That's the influence of the Russians.
  So the week before Christmas, there was a day when I had hit a real low. We had just come from seeing Santa-- which I usually love. But my 11 year old humiliated me by being that kid who, in one breath, asked Santa for a laptop and an ipod touch, and an iphone, and some new ugg boots, real ones, not the fakes. She deserved to be cuffed. But I didn't cuff her, I just went home and sat in the car, depressed. I waited. In the car, in my garage, putting off the impending chores and messed around on Facebook. 

And I stumbled onto this. 




How can you not smile at that? It's really impossible. Diva, children, Fallon. What's not to like? I left the car with happy tears in my eyes, vowing to be happier and do better. I felt so great that I turned on some more Christmas music and blasted my all time favorite Christmas song, Let It Snow, the extra jazzy version by Harry Connick Jr. And I felt so great that I started dancing in the privacy of my own kitchen. Jazz hands and Fosse grapevines and all. I felt so good that I busted out a high kick. And that's when things took a turn for the worse. My injured leg and skinny jeans just couldn't keep up with my festive enthusiasm and I collapsed into a heap. And then I was right back where I started.

  This year I am going to try to not be so hyperbolic and bipolar in my thinking. I am also going to alternate my Dostoevsky and Tolstoy with a little Bravo TV, you know, to try to be a little more well rounded.

A very Happy New Year.