Christmas musings

Merry Christmas, everyone. Or if Christmas ain't your thang (like my wife, who is Jewish...), then Happy Holiday of Your Choice!

We exchange Hannukah gifts but not Christmas gifts in our house these days. No christmas tree either. Not that I miss any of that, really. Christmas was a really big deal when I was a kid, but not so much since. I sometimes find it odd that given our very different upbringings, it's I who chose to move three thousand miles away from my family and my wife who stayed in the city where she grew up. You'd think it would be the other way around.

It was snowing earlier--big fat flakes drifting down and beginning to accumulate on the car, the garbage can and other objects, but not on the ground. But it has stopped and all the accumulated snow has melted away, though snippy tells me that the forecast is for more snow tomorrow. We'll see if that sticks, I guess.

I've been writing a lot. But still mostly game-oriented stuff rather than stories. Nonetheless I've been enjoying it immensely, which is really the point. I've also purchased a standing computer desk, or most of one. snippy and I went to IKEA and found one that was almost exactly what I was looking for and for much less money than anything else I'd looked at. Alas, when we went to the self-serve area to pick up the pieces (you have to assemble it at home yourself), some of the shelves were out of stock. I was...very unhappy. But we ended up buying all the rest of it. Eventually the remaining shelves will be available again and we'll get them.

I still need to assemble the desk, clear off the existing desk and swap them out. Then we'll have to see about trying to sell the old computer desk via Craig's list. Or failing that, give it away--just something to get it out of the garage, where it will only gather dust otherwise. (There's really nowhere else in the house that we can use it.)

And finally, just because it amuses me: The Agnostic's Prayer, by Roger Zelazny.

Insofar as I may be heard by anything, which may or may not care what I say, I ask, if it matters, that I be forgiven for anything I may have done or failed to do which requires forgiveness.

Conversely, if not forgiveness but something else may be required to insure any possible benefit for which I may be eligible after the destruction of my body, I ask that this, whatever it may be, be granted or withheld, as the case may be, in such a way as to insure my receiving said benefit.  

I ask this in my capacity as my elected intermediary between myself and that which might not be myself, but which may have an interest in the matter of my receiving as much of said benefit as it is possible for me to receive of this thing, and which may in some way be influenced by this ceremony.

Scars

They're not just physical. They can be mental and emotional. Sometimes I think that emotional scars can be worse. At the very least, physical scars are visible--people who see you struggling with the after effects of a physical trauma will understand that you're, well, scarred. There's some evidence that you may have limitations that unscarred individuals don't have.

I love my lovely and talented wife greatly, and admire her immensely. She survived a terrible childhood of neglect, abuse and poverty. She triumphed over it, in fact. By virtue of her native intelligence and years--a lifetime, really--of hard work, she's overcome her childhood. She avoided falling prey to the same failures that ensnared her family. She raised two children to be intelligent, decent human beings despite having to do so under the immense handicap of having no good role models for parenting, in spite of having a couple really bad roles models, in fact.

She's become a successful homeowner and contributing member of society, with a long-term job she enjoys and employers and co-workers who value her efforts. And, if I do say so myself, a husband who admires and loves her greatly. But it didn't come easily. None of it. She had to claw her way out of a very deep hole just to get the starting line in life.

But there are scars. And sometimes, as scars, do, they bother her. She often feels lonely. Part of it is that she's experienced things that few people--very few people, especially among those she knows--can really understand. It's hard to talk to people when your maps of the world are so different that even basic premises don't match up. Part of it is cutting herself off from her toxic family. Toxic they may be, but her memories aren't all bad. She grew up with family and holiday memories she cherishes. Having no family except myself and her children (when they're in town) just isn't the same, especially on holidays--even if they're not her holidays anymore.

She hurts sometimes. But it's old pain, or the scars of those painful experiences; either way, there's nothing I can do for the pain. I can try to comfort her, and try to help her deal with it, or try to think of thinks we can do in the future to deal with it. But that's not enough; she deserves better. I just wish I could give it to her.