the little mexican martyr
December 09, 2005
having grown up in a buddhist household (and i use "buddhist household" lightly) i was not and still not cognizant to the awesomeness that is jesus. what i did know is that christmas was colorful and joyous, and presents were always abound. i can only assume that my parents participated in christmas activities, sans church service, so that my siblings and i wouldn't feel like a bunch of douchebags when the spring semester commenced and the teacher assigned the obligatory write an essay about what you got for christmas because i'm still too hopped up on eggnog, pot, and booze from all of the holiday parties that my fellow teaching sots held over the past two weeks to delve into a real lesson today, thanks, bye. the holiday is about jesus, you say? is he the new mexican boy in mrs. anderson's class?
when high school rolled around i was always the one to put up and take down the tree because no one else really cared. when i left for college the artificial tree and its adorning ornaments laid dormant in their respective hiding places. i still wanted a tree, but being a poor, starving college student had its drawbacks (lack of money, in case you didn't catch that).
now that i'm back in the still-non-empty nest with my family i took it upon myself to erect and decorate a tree for this holiday season "because it makes me happy and warm and tingly all over, not just down there." however, my father tossed out the old tree and all of the lights and ornaments from years past while he packed away the belongings of my childhood home and moved into the new house. what a disappointment. ho hum.
i purchased another tree and during assembly my mother decided to sit and supervise the daunting task of sticking faux douglas fir branches into a metal stand—difficult indeed, mother. i tinkered and twirled around with little hops and poor renditions of christmas carols, showing how a tree really does perk up the house and dull spirits of its occupants. below are a few quotes i threw out just for kicks.
"jesus doesn't like red lights."
"jesus wants something on top of this tree."
"jesus doesn't want tinsel, damn it. he thinks it gets all over the carpet and doesn't want me to have to clean it up."
"JESUS LOVES YOU. JESUS LOVES YOU."
am i going to hell? well, that's all right. hard to go somewhere that doesn't exist. ba-zing!
...oh dear.
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