I walked to work this morning, and I passed several dead trees, left out for the garbage trucks. The tree from our living room was out there too, leaning against a living tree and looking tired. I do not like "real" Christmas trees. The tree that my roommate insisted on had no scent, but tons of pine needles to drop. As I expected/predicted, my roommate never bothered to clean these needles up until last night, when he took the tree down (he also left the lights and extension cords and ornaments and tree stand all over the living room, but that is another post for another day).

We had this thing dying in the corner of the living room for a month, and I was the only one who hung out in the living room on a regular basis, from what I could tell. When I left for work this morning, I noticed an explosion of pine needles all over the entryway, like the tree had tried to grab onto the front door while it was being dragged outside to be garbage.

No, sir. I don't like real Christmas trees. Give me my tiny, fake, pre-lit tree any day.


I feel like I say the same thing every year, and here I go again! I am not one for resolutions. A year often seems like an arbitrary measure of time to me - nothing is reset once the clock strikes midnight; nothing changes. The comforts and awesomeness and problems and worries I had on December 31st will still be the same on January 1st (assuming that I didn't add anything new on New Year's Eve).

I feel like I can change anytime. Indeed, a friend and I were having coffee on Monday, and she observed that I never seemed to have any giant life plan, or a set of goals to reach by a certain age. I told her that when I think about the future, I see a big, amorphous blob, and that's totally OK with me. I shape it day by day, and lately, I hardly ever feel the need to go back and reshape.


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