I got time to hold my own.

I would like to wish you all a happy December. I thought I would miss the suburban lights almost immediately - one thing I love about USA Christmas (TM) is the "Gotta Beat the Johnsons" mentality of Christmas lights. But insead of that good ol' American display of I-care-less-about-my-electricity-bills-than-you-do, we have this:


This too (that color being projected actually changes. Not unlike the Disneyland castle.):


And this lovely string of lights as well:


Yessir, Christmas is coming. I miss my family and I have been spending the last couple of days doing little to nothing. I'm chipping away my play but it is nowhere near as fast a writing as when I wrote my play about superheroes. I wrote that play with super-speed. Ha! Honestly though, every year since I can remember... at least since I have been away at school... I have had a bit of winter ennui. I thought, perhaps, being in the United Kingdom would change that, but alas, no. I have to fight it to make myself get out of the house, to participate in things that I used to welcome with open arms. I don't know why, or how this happened, this particular form of seasonal social disorder, but it's happened and I'm fighting it. I'm going out when I can and I'm hanging out with folks. Poker is big right now, with cookies taking the place of money. Joseph is still ill, so sometimes we just converse in my room about things like television, musicals, and (as usual) the difference between the US and the UK.

I'm still happy, though. Happy with a bit of sadness on the edges. It's kind of like present-wrapping, actually, to make a seasonal metaphor. Packages look absolutely incredible - they have appeared as if by magic, wrapped in boxes, with magic inside. A lovely seasonal guessing game. But there is a bit of sadness because eventually, that package will be ruined, the gift inside revealed, the glitzy paper off to the trash can. That's how I feel. I feel like every day is one of those packages. Happy but a bit futile.

The futility is from the fact that these people that I am with, who I have come to care about quite a bit, who I live with and share hot cocoa with, whose papers I help edit and distract from, who I walk to university with and get pints with in the evening... I will probably never see a large fraction of them ever again. Our futures all lie elsewhere. New Zealand, Germany, Serbia, Scotland, Canada. So while I love doing all these things, it feels impermanent and sad at the same time. Like the wrapped package.

Sigh. It's a complext emotion. Have I described it adequately enough? I think so.

Let's talk about Harry Potter! Tomorrow, the Harry Potter collection of fables comes out. I am incredibly excited! As far as I know, there is absolutely no plans for midnight parties or anything (as far as I know. I'm going to the bookstores today to find out.) But that's fine. I'm just excited to read something new from this universe. When I can't get to sleep in my little dorm room, I put on Stephen Fry reading Harry Potter 6 and eventually get lifted into a fantasy dreamworld and then sleep.

And, I'm sorry, but the UK version has a much better cover. Observe:

Totally vintage, as though it was on the shelf of a wizard. Compared to this thing:

I can't wait!