Basement Chronicles

Christmas Chronicle

"I need this way of life because it holds me.
Contradiction's the way of life."

So welcome home. To the land of perpetual sunset and rain three days before Christmas. The land of my birth, my raising, and now biannual visits. I've been back near a week. I've braved the icy roads, angry shoppers, and comments on my facial hair. So far its been mostly good comments, but soon I must break down and trim it. Already it is becoming unruly, angstful, and wants to leave home to see the world. The beard trimmer shoots a tearful glare in my direction, then continues sulking behind the Kleenex box. Its been like this all week.

Its tearing this house apart.

But seriously, welcome home everybody. Its good to see friends and family again. To return to a world of drama, conflict, and Jujyfruit. A place where you aren't just another set of temporal lobes with a credit card . Where I, yes, I have the best bed in the house. Which apparently everbody else uses while I'm gone. Despite the fact that I have a piece of paper saying "BRB" on the door. Seriously, what gives.

This morningish I spent two hours locked in the office wrapping presents. Surrounded by wrapping paper, scotch tape, and something that makes my allergies kick up something fierce. In that time I came to the conclusion that I was born without the ability to wrap any object of any shape or size. I was also born without an ass, but that's another story.

After about the third time I misjudged the size of paper for wrapping a CD, I wanted to give up and start searching for gift bags. The floor looked like a very angry kitty had used the roll as a scratching post. The presents looked more like papier-mache blobs than a gift wrapped with Christmas-y intent. The "To/From" stickers were about the only thing I succeeded at. And even then I sometimes forgot who the present was to, so some tags have names scratched out and rewritten.

I usually try and make my sister wrap my presents, through either bribery or blackmail. But this time she was busy watching Aladdin, and one of the presents were hers anyway. So I braved the fabled "Christmas wrap box" and found the fabled "tape" that everybody misplaces. Hours later, my fingernails are now filled with tacky crud from peeling off price stickers, and my head is filled with catchy Disney songs. For the record, Best Buy has the worst tags, and Borders has the easiest.

"Prince Ali, Mighty is he, Ali Ababwa..."

Damn. Not Slipknot, not Depswa, not even Beenie Weenies can break its vice-like grip on my musically vulnerable mind. I think now the only treatment is Christmas music, but this is a treatment that is worse than the malady.

And thus, much like how marauding Christmas melodies viciously conquer all else, the spirit of the season has set in upon our household. Wreaths are hung on the normally protruding and potentially dangerous nails around the house. Our artificial tree radiates a warm glow over my horrific wrappings, which stand out like FREE PORN in the middle of a paragraph. My sister and her friend have fallen asleep downstairs watching Friends, while my parents went to bed early for work tomorrow. And I sit in the office, troubleshooting a PVR recording stutter that I can't isolate as the card or the cable box.

Standard stuff. Really? Nah, not quite. This Christmas has been a bit different. A year ago was my first college homecoming. An exciting time, filled with joy and change-in-reservation fees.

This year is a bit different. My sister is a senior in highschool, listens to stranger music than I do, and is currently my ride to anywhere. She has corrupted my Dad with endless Friends episodes, and my Mom is currently happy with her new job. So that leaves me at home during the day with Corey, a long story with eyeliner that likes [adult swim]. I wasn't even part of the Christmas decorations this year. Not that its a bad thing. It usually ends up that my sister and I decorate the tree completely wrong, conflict ensues, and I just end up finding some egg nog while my sister inflicts her will upon a frustrated authority figure.

We're all the same family, but I think we've grown up a bit. Technically all adults, we haven't figured out how to tolerate each other as such. I'm trying to be the Switzerland of the group, but I have it on good account that neutrality didn't exactly protect them from anything.

Being home, however, makes me realize how much I missed all of their quirks and varied antics. People that hug me no matter how many times I come home. My Dad, who can understand my particular dialect of Geekspeak. My sister, who can always make me laugh. And my mom, who can listen no matter what. All of whom I can sit alone with in a room and not get that weird, "awkard silence" feeling.

And I guess I just miss that.

Welcome home.

Happy Holidays, and safe travels for those still en route.

- Josh