It’s that time of year again, another pre-printed entry on every calendar we own. We note it, we look forward to some time off of work/school/whatever. We start shopping so we can fill ourselves to critical mass on traditional family meals that are lovingly made with blood (“I’ll kill you if you don’t get the hell out of my kitchen!”), sweat (“Jeebus, it’s hot in here… and they’re all gonna die if they don’t get out of my kitchen!“) and tears (*sob* “I can’t take it any more! Can you blame me for hamstringing little Timmy… that little bastard wouldn’t get out of my kitchen!). We feebly fight over the remote control as we communally bloat on every horizontal surface available — sofas, floors, sidewalks, the dog — eventually ending in a slow motion slap fight as our insulin levels peak and shut us down one critical subsystem after another (life support being the last).
Oh, how I love Kwanzaa.
No, wait… Thanksgiving.
I wanna thank the universe for causing my path to cross — and sometimes run parallel with — the paths of so many spectacular people. I may not always say it, show it, or express it in interpretative dance, but I do love and appreciate the family I was born into, and the Family I chose along my travels.
I am thankful for the shoulders to cry on in pain, the livers to destroy in celebration, the late nights shooting the shit about any and everything, the long days silently enjoying movies. The memories… good and bad, the influences… good and bad, the ever-lasting opportunities to learn and grow,a the fights, the laughs, the sex. The ho-hum times, the exiting times, the frightening times too. The jokes at each others (and our own) expense, the conspiratory evils perpetrated, the impromptu angelic deeds performed. The passion, compassion, indifference, love and hate.
We’re all a rotten mess. We have not only ourselves to blame, but those who have drifted in and out of our lives to blame too, and I’m thankful for that almost more than anything else. I’m a mutt… a conglomeration of my own thoughts and opinions stirred together into a gumbo with everything I have experienced from those who have besmirched my brain by sharing my world. I like who I am — as much as anyone who isn’t born with a rabbit’s foot up their ass, and has been blessed with super-genius intelligence, wealth, looks, and not a callus on their hands from a hard day’s work, can. I could certainly use more of the afore mentioned blessings, hell everyone could, but otherwise I make do well enough.
If you’re reading this, it’s more than likely you’re one of my cosmic crossroads, and you’ll know precisely what I mean by this:
And we love you too!