Tag Archives: holiday

Some Things and Their Places: A Story

Things on Ships:


Sails (extra ones below deck)



Engine (depending on the type of boat)




Yellow bellies

Things on a Christmas tree:


Christmas lights


Half a strand of dead Christmas lights

Tinsel (also all over the house)

Grandpa and Grandma (a picture of them)

A gingerbread man ornament that I always wish I could eat but can’t because it’s an ornament and not actually made out of gingerbread (even though it looks really tasty)

The Christmas ornament that creeps me out but that I keep using anyways

Things in my room:

An empty canister of Nescafe Tasters Choice instant coffee that’s been there for 9 months – could probably recycle this now

A poster on the wall with my goals for this year, and where I spelled “General” wrong so it says “Geneal goals for the year”

Calcium chews – I may have had two of these today since I couldn’t remember if I’d eaten one in the morning or not

A Monster energy drink that I purchased one night in September


Desk, chair, and bookshelf that were all found on the street

Two cottage cheese containers full of money

A phone book – I thought this would be useful for some reason


Things in my head:

Memories in picture format

Scent memories – my house where I grew up, pine needles, cologne

Forgotten dreams

Remembered dreams

The indisputable fact that everyone is staring at me

Instant coffee granules

I think he likes me

Ideas like “I could sell my doodles,” or “what if I did man-on-the-street interviews at lunch”



The song “The Christmas Waltz”


Things in my heart: 





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New Year: Time to Fail

Notice the error in spelling “special.” I can make mistakes if I want.

Welcome to the New Year. Odds are you’ve already messed it up. As usual, you thought that this year was going to be different. Yet barely a day into it, you once again sullied the fresh snow of new opportunity. Now it looks as appealing as Mr. Sprick’s yard on a snow day, and he has 5 kids, a few dogs, and a mule. Have you ever seen how much mules pee? No one wants to look at that yard, much less do anything in it.

Now you’re going to have to wait a whole new year to get a fresh snowfall, and meanwhile you have plenty of time to consider all the ways you went wrong. Why didn’t everything change at midnight like it was supposed to?

One of the more glaring problems is that you have remained the same person. Your new, sequined dress and hair-do for New Year’s Eve didn’t make you lose weight, and you never looked like Gwen Stefani. Furthermore, whatever glamour hocus pocus you attempted wore off rapidly as the evening progressed, like it always does, leaving none for the morning after. You awoke New Year’s Day having retained many if not all of the habits and excuses from your former life of 2 days ago and you still find it difficult to do the things you should do and accomplish the goals you put off when today was tomorrow. Most unfortunately, you’re still yourself, and that has always been your biggest problem.

Another monkey wrench in your New Year’s plot is the fact you had one at all. There is nothing special about New Years. It is an arbitrary day assigned an arbitrary number that has arbitrary meaning in a society you were arbitrarily born into. There is no magic in it that will make your wishes for change come true, especially if you do nothing, as usual. Magical New Year’s fairy dust won’t make you the person you want to be. You can’t sprinkle it on a pile of books you want read or a treadmill you want results from or a human you want to friend and expect those things to happen. It’s just skin cells and dirt, like dust always is, like it was yesterday and like it will be tomorrow.

Perhaps one of your biggest mistakes was that you thought positive life changes can only be implemented on a specific date once a year. This is a common misconception, and you’re not alone in such convoluted thinking. However, research has shown that these kinds of changes can take place regardless of the date. Science has thus released us from the prison of miniscule timelines and disposed of our archaic excuses. Thank goodness.

And finally, you may have unfortunately bought into the idea that transformation happens instantly. This is a most inaccurate notion. A large pine tree grows in my front yard. It was not always large. It has grown over the past 15 years into a respectably sized organism, just as you have. Family dysfunction that has festered for decades will not disappear in a month. Bad habits you’ve practiced daily since college will not take kindly to being abandoned. You are still yourself, after all, and that includes everything you would rather not include.

So yes, you have failed to become a new person overnight, the person you should, can, and want to be. You ate another cookie, cursed in front of a child, or vomited into a friend’s shoe. Nothing has changed.

But don’t despair yet. There’s still hope, and it’s not because next year is another year, or tomorrow is another day. It’s because every day you have a million chances to right your wrongs and strangle your bad habits. You have a first, second, fourth, and eight hundred and sixtieth chance to get it right, and that’s just today, after which there will likely be a tomorrow. But there’s no reason to wait. Screw New Year’s Resolutions.

Lastly, I would like to apologize, as it appears I’ve just written an inspirational blog post.

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The Shopper’s Eye: A Tale of Desperation

My sight grew numb. I didn’t even know that could happen.

An excerpt from the Drevets Log:

“Target: The Shopper’s Eye”

27 December 2011: 15:55

Very tired. Need coffee and Digestive Biscuit.

I wander a vast retail wasteland. Memories of my life before Target fade.  Numbers, letters blend together. Nothing has meaning.

Sister has developed discount psychosis. I fear for her safety. The damage may not be reversible.

Humanoids pace the aisles, eyes glazed, drool tracks on their cheeks. The management has used the color red to hypnotize its prey. Mutters emanate breathily from their mouths. They cannot understand they say nothing. Meaningless. All meaningless.

My humanity burns within me. I must leave this place. The cardigan I search for is not here. Long sleeve crew neck tees choke my being. Everything has a cost, and still the danger grows. We will not sacrifice our souls in order to fulfill our quest. My sister weakens. My own resolve becomes faint.

I have contracted the dreaded shopper’s eye. Items are indistinguishable from one another. I sense my thinking grow clouded. I clutch ill fitting shirts of garish colors. Perhaps I will wear them to parties where glasses will clink and muffled laughter will sound from the other room where a rabbit plays the piano.

I better try on just five, no six, no eight more. Eight more blouses. These jeans don’t look like the cardigan I need. I need to try them on.

Dressing room attendants, here’s a number thank you, walk left right left slam, fluorescent lights, mirror, action. I cannot recognize myself. This is the only reality. Everything is a box, beginning here in this box in the Target box in a boxy suburb, in the box city, in the universe box.

My cell phone goes off. “Mother” is calling. What is mother? Memories stir in the deep. I remember mountains, dancing, Christmas lights on snow.


I tear out of the dressing rooms. Sister stands, mesmerized by a promotion display, her consciousness wasting away. I slap her. “WAKE.” I say. “WHAT THE CRAP.” Says she. “RUN.” I say. I grab her hand. She’s irritated. I know this. She cannot understand I seek only her good. I will receive her thanks later.

We sprint up the aisles, burst into sunshine. Winter rays warm our mortal flesh.

“I need to pay for this, Emily,” sister says. She holds a pair of jeans.

“You were taking SO LONG.” I insist. “I have saved you.”

“No, Emily. You haven’t. Wait here. I’m going back inside.”

I watch her re-enter. She will thank me yet.

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Dear Santa, You Suck

Santa Claus is a bad dude

Hey Santa! Yeah you, ya big stink. What the nark is wrong with you?? You think that just because you’re your own boss and don’t take no orders from nobody that you can stomp on my Christmas wishes, and leave me a freakin’ pile of junk?

Did you even read the letter I sent you? What about my tweets, facebook messages, or emails? Did you not see the comments I left on your blog? Surely you must have gotten at least one of the numerous text messages or missed phone calls I gave you. I even SKYPED with Mrs. Claus and told her exactly what I wanted and still you come and dump wrapped up garbage beneath our evergreen.

You know what? You suck. I’m not sure if you’re incompetent, lazy, or mentally impaired, but you certainly are not fit for my future children to worship.

Look. My request was not unreasonable: The only thing I wanted was the very same 16 oz. jar of Teddie Crunchy Old Fashioned All Natural Peanut Butter that was taken from me as I was going through security at the Boston Logan International Airport on Wednesday, December 21 at approximately 11:15 am, and the security team that had confiscated it after briefly arguing with me to be punished by you stealing all their toilet paper.  But you ruined everything by being awful.

Even if my request had been over the top, which it wasn’t, I still thought the pieces of trash I found under my tree were completely uncalled for. What kind of mean-spirited old crank leaves Dunkaroo wrappers and beef jerky bags with bows on top of them? And as for the box of Ritz s’mores, well I thought there was actually something in there until I opened it and you had replaced my favorite road trip treat with dog food. You’re just a bad guy. I hope the years of tax evasion finally catch up to you and you’re sent to a minimum security federal prison where you meet a whole new crop of lap sitters.

Wishing you a nasty case of shingles,


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Will It Stick: Thanksgiving Edition

As I sat at my friend’s apartment deeply pondering the political turmoil in Egypt and my miraculous completion of a homework assignment, I found myself struggling to come up with a blog post idea. Despite the fact that we are living in unusual times and Christmas is coming, I pulled blank after blank. Finally I began considering what kind of foods, after being thrown, would stick to a wall. As I delved further into this topic, I realized what an intellectual treat it would be  to analyze the traditional foods of Thanksgiving through this lens of viscosity and velocity.

Allow me to present the results of my brief investigation:

For purposes of simplicity, I have divided the foods into the categories of stickers, non-stickers, conditional stickers, and sliders. A sticker being, of course, something that would remain on the wall for a period of no less than 10 minutes after being thrown. Conditional stickers are things that would stick depending on the circumstances, and sliders are things that would ooze down the wall slowly before puddling into goo at its base. I’ve commented on the particular nature of some dishes, while leaving the rest to personal interpretation.


Mashed Potatoes (those with a fairly firm consistency)

Sweet Potato Casserole

Jello Salad: this fine traditional midwestern dish that provides a preview of dessert at the dinner table would most certainly grace a wall for a few minutes after being flung upon it

Pumpkin pie: a little too gooey sometimes for my taste, this viscous dessert would most certainly join its mashed brethren in decorating the wall.



Turkey legs

Leafy green salad: though one or two leaves that are particularly soaked with dressing might stick, odds are most of it would just bounce right off. You  shouldn’t have too much dressing on the salad anyways. If it sticks, you might want to consider laying off the blue cheese dressing

Apple Crostata with Cinammon-Almond Topping: not only will this not stick, but you’ve probably annoyed most people at the potluck by insisting that your crostata is not an apple pie.

Conditional Stickers:

Slices of turkey, depending on size and whether or not someone ruined the turkey by over cooking it

Stuffing/dressing, depending on if it’s inedibly dry, disgustingly mushy, or toothsomely perfect

Pecan Pie, depending on the velocity with which it was thrown



Green Bean Casserole: no doubt some of this would remain plastered to the wall, but a good amount would probably slither all the way down

Cranberry Sauce

There is certainly more to be said, but I will leave some fun for Christmas, where many of the same dishes will once again be over-eaten and then lobbed against the walls.

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