Christmastime, the only time of the year you can say "Ho, Ho, Ho" to people and claim you were being festive

I doubt most of you are going to read this. Tonight you'll be in bed, avoiding the wrath of Santa Claus, and tomorrow you'll be spending time with your families, rejoicing how you didn't get coal with which you could solve the energy crisis. I always knew something was off about you people, but I never quite got it until now that you guys hated the environment.

"9 ways to serve venison" by S. C. Redjacket

It's really been a while since my last blog post, and I honestly don't know why I've held out against my urge to write something like this. The best I can come up with is that my life, through all the stress, has somehow either kept me busy enough or content enough to prevent it. I see it both as a bad thing, since I've been unable to vent about my feelings in terms of recent events, and as a good thing, given I'm somehow more capably handling the turns on the road.

I will add that despite my crash in the middle of the semester, being too primarily focused on asking out my love interest that the stress consumed my life, I somehow came to the realization that I, being busy enough as I am, can't pursue a the establishment of a romantic attachment. If she came up to me, started a conversation, and I saw a golden opportunity, I'd fare pretty well, but what I'm referring to is the pressure on me to go up to her and make a move, in which the anticipation of finally fulfilling what I've desired to do for so long, the anticipation of an event that would brighten my universe up considerably, would most likely kill me. I've said it before: I only feign confidence, and when it comes to asking out the girl of my dreams, I might as well not even bother (If Mikayla could please message me and tell me whether or not she'd be interested in dating me, that would save a shitload of time and stress on my part). Does the guy always have to make the first move?

Moving on from my romantic troubles, I managed to pull ahead of how badly I thought I would fail, and somehow came out with semester averages that rivaled the total averages of Sophomore year. I pushed the idea of asking her to the back of my mind, concentrated on what mattered most (which was surviving school), and I fucking did it. I passed with flying colors (except for theatre, which I wasn't really worried about anyways).

Anyways, I'll try not to keep you too much longer, and more importantly, I'll try not to keep myself too much longer, as noradsanta.org displays Santa drawing nearer and nearer to Austin by the minute. I'd rather not be awake when he arrives, lest my custom ordered set of D&D dice be delivered elsewhere as punishment. My friend and I actually had a funny conversation earlier regarding my friend's astonishment at the fact that I believe in more so in Santa Claus than god. I immediately brought up the counterargument that humankind has so many definitions for a deity we call "god", many differing completely, yet all across the globe, we can agree Kris Kringle is a fat guy with a white beard in a red outfit who delivers presents to children. People don't debate the nature of Santa Claus in regards to his policy of judgement of others over the internet. I mean, even if you're naughty, Santa still leaves you a lump of coal so you can stay warm. I guess Yahweh believes more firmly in the "give a man a fire, he'll be warm for a day; set a man on fire..." adage.

Well, I've gone on about my troubles enough for now. I might rant a little more about it in a new year's post, along with what my new year's resolutions would be (I'd rather not spoil them for you here).

Fuck it, I guess I'm ending here, and hey, maybe then, for your Christmas wish, your love interest might try to call you, but you're too stoked about the arrival of your custom D&D dice set to answer the phone.

Merry Christmas guys, have some fun tomorrow.