Received this email recently:

Just thought I would drop you an email and tell you how much I enjoy your posts that are emailed to me. I work out on a drillship in the Gulf of Mexico and your emails are something to look forward to for a little bit of the light side for me. Anyway, God Bless you! Sometimes the way does seem overwhelming and you can’t see the end but . . our Lord can.

And keep the faith, God has plans for you and I’m sure they include the lady of your hopes and passions. Thanks again and Merry Christmas.

Awesome.

There used to be a time in my life when Christmas actually FELT like Christmas.  I used to get into it so much that I would get out my Christmas tree and start decorating before even Halloween itself came around, much less the holiday season.

The magic in the air was just intoxicating, and I could always smell the fresh, sweet aroma of evergreen everywhere I went.  Lights would twinkle, while carolers jingled, and sometimes if we had a cooler than normal season, we’d even get snow to complete the ensemble.  And of course there was my favorite tradition of all time: the mistletoe. 

Yep, it was that time of year that made me prance me around like Pee Wee Herman in blissful joy joy happiness.

But then something happened.  Year after year we would go through the same ritual as before, but the magic was somehow gone.  I just couldn’t experience the joys of celebrating the season like I used to.  Somewhere along the line, I had grown up.

I went from the little kid who would breathlessly wait for Christmas morning to come before flying to the living room at breakneck speed to open his presents, to someone who was now spending every Christmas season, alone.

Oh, so very alone.

It didn’t seem fair that my favorite season had to be ruined each passing year just because I didn’t have anyone special in my life.  That shouldn’t have to matter, right?  But it does, somehow.  It always matters, especially around this time of year.  I always thought about what I was missing, not about what I already had, and yet no matter how hard I tried, the despair of loneliness just couldn’t be fended off, and it would drop over my spirit like a wet, smothering blanket.

Christmas was now a time that made me yearn for a life where I could share these precious moments with her, whoever she was.  I wanted to see her laugh every time a Chipmunks song came on.  I wanted to see her eyes twinkle as she hung ornaments on our tree.  I wanted to see her hold me close as we danced and kissed under the mistletoe.  These were moments I could see only in fragmented dreams, in visions that would tease me with promises of happiness and love, only to fade away to the dark realities of my failed existence.

But still I hoped.  Still I push on, ever forward, ever hoping that dreams do indeed come true, and that one day, some day, I will see the Christmas stars of a wish come true reflected in her beautiful eyes.

Some day…

Last Christmas I received a lovely miniature Christmas tree to hang my decorations on, and I decided then and there that my wittle tree would also be known as the Tree of Hope:

…I thought to myself, “I will continue to take care of this tree until I meet the girl of my dreams, and perhaps even beyond.  This will be our future, special tree.”  So as long as the tree lives on, my hope lives on…

Well…

Suffice it to say, I don’t think yellow is a good color for an evergreen tree to have.  I watered it, gave it plant food, made sure it always had enough light, but the fricking thing was determined to die on me, almost like it had heard me when I declared it to be the Tree of Hope my future honey snuggles would someday hang ornaments on, so it decided to spite my ass by committing suicide.

Though it’s not like it really needed the help.  With each failed attempt to connect with the opposite gender since that time I could tell my tree was getting a little browner.  The depths of evil to which evil women go (because they’re evil) was simply too much for my wittle Tree of Hope to handle.

Eventually I decided to take it to work hoping the nuclear powered fluorescent lights over my desk would breathe some life into my poor, wittle tree.  For all I know it could have, but the air here was probably more toxic than I’d care to admit, because now it was starting to turn yellow.

Finally I gave up and planted what was left of the Tree of Hope outside in a small garden area.  After I finished planting it I threw my hands up and said, “Well Lord, I tried.  Now it’s all up to You.”

My guess is that it’ll be torn out by the maintenance crew and dumped into the trash by week’s end, which is pretty much how I think I’ll be going too when it’s my time to check out. 

Ah well.  It was nice to dream for a while. 

One of my Christmas traditions for the past few years has been to boycott the movie “It’s a Wonderful Life.” To this day I’ve never seen the film, and I have refused to do so until I meet “the one.” Every time I watch a movie by myself, I feel the dull ache of knowing that’s yet another experience I haven’t been able to share with that special girl. I wanted there to be one classic movie left over that I hadn’t seen yet, and only watch it for the first time ever when I finally have my beloved in my arms. I hope if I do meet her someday, she’ll understand why I made this choice, and why it’s so important to me.

Now I’m about to start another tradition. As an early Christmas gift I received a potted miniature Christmas tree, and I thought to myself, “I will continue to take care of this tree until I meet the girl of my dreams, and perhaps even beyond. This will be our future, special tree.” So as long as the tree lives on, my hope lives on. Of course, I’ll have to take the ornaments off after Christmas is over, lest I should look like a moron keeping a decorated Christmas tree around the place in the middle of July.

For now, I can only hope that these two traditions will see soon see their fulfillment, perhaps even as early as next year. In the meantime though, I must continue to play the waiting game.

But for the rest of you, I wish you all the very merriest of Christmas, and that your Holiday season be filled with joy and peace. God bless us everyone.

As each year draws to a close, I find myself losing more and more hope that I’ll ever find my future beloved. She exists only in a dream, her warmth and love such that only a woman can give was something I would never experience in real life. Any experience I’ve had with the opposite sex have instead always resulted in my heart being ripped out and torn to shreds.

But then something happened on Friday that infused me with a renewed sense of hope. It started when I received some white chocolate treats from a coworker, a pretty brunette I once had a major crush on, until she of course fell in love with another coworker and promptly married him a few months later.

“Wow, thanks Karen, these are great!” Then in passing I mentioned that while I liked white chocolate, dark chocolate was actually my favorite.

So she went home and made a fresh new batch of dark chocolate, just for me. I couldn’t believe it.

“Karen, you didn’t have to do this! I was just teasing!”

“It’s ok, I wanted to.”

I was stunned. This act of charity was truly unexpected and something I never thought would come from her.

Later that evening, I checked the latest video of TV Squad Daily, hosted by the stunningly gorgeous Brigitte Dale. I made a somewhat tongue in cheek comment a few days before asking her to sing a Christmas song, and to my complete surprise, she actually answered that request in her next video (beginning 00:34 seconds in):

Too bad she didn’t post my blog address though. Still, it was a much welcome gesture, especially coming from someone who is quickly coming close to taking the same throne once occupied by Jessica Alba. Ok, that’s enough dreaming now, Linc-O.

In any event, these two acts of goodwill went a long way in taking the bite out of what had otherwise been a stingy Christmas season for me. 2007 had been a terrible year, both health wise and spiritual wise. I needed to believe that better times were ahead, and I’ve been holding dearly on to the hope that 2008 will finally be THE year where everything will change, and where the identity of the mystery blonde will finally be revealed.

I still have a long and grueling road ahead of me though, and the outcome is still uncertain. Yet these two beautiful women collectively gave me the best Christmas gift I could ever ask for: hope.

I thank God for this renewed sense of hope and purpose, as it carries me through this Christmas season and into the dawn of a new era.

I quickly noticed when I stopped by the greeting card section of several stores that there were hardly any stepfather cards for Father’s Day. Don’t these greeting card companies realize we’re living in the 21st century now? You know, where more than half of marriages end up in divorce, and a kid could grow up having 3 different stepfathers by the time he reaches his twenties? Really people, this isn’t Norman Rockwell’s country anymore, so get a flipping clue.

I must have eyeballed hundreds of different cards looking for something appropriate. In the end I finally gave up and handed my stepfather a re-used Christmas card instead.

Fortunately he got a chuckle over it.

I have a simple tradition that I follow every year at Christmas: I make a point of NOT watching the movie, It’s A Wonderful Life. To this day I have never seen the film.

The reason for that is because somewhere along the line, I got it into my head that this was one movie experience I did not want to enjoy until I met my future beloved. I wanted it to be something we could watch and enjoy together, even if she probably saw the movie about a thousand times already.

I know, it seems kinda silly, but still, I make sure to quickly skip over the channels whenever it’s on. I guess in a way I feel like if I caved in and finally watched the movie, it’s like I would have given up all hope that I’ll ever meet someone.

So for now, the boycott of It’s A Wonderful Life continues….