Author: cdymek

SantaCon took place on Saturday. Somewhere around 500 people, dressed in Santa outfits (and other related holiday costumes) stormed around New York from around 10 a.m. until, well, much, much later I was told. They had a rousing good time, with lots of alcohol and inappropriate behavior. And I missed it. Next year, I’m there!

I’ve finally caught up, in many different ways, with all the goings-on of the past two months. I’ve accepted the offer of serving as a co-chair of the Rutgers Alumni Association’s Undergraduate Committee, I’ve had more than a few meetings/basketball games/miscellaneous events at Rutgers over the past few weeks. There was the recent European trip, which while didn’t go quite the way I had hoped, wasn’t as bad as I made it sound, either. There was the few days in Philly, where I had a great time bonding with my fellow students. I got to catch up with my friends, drink to excess, and attend some holiday parties. I _finally_ cleaned my house and put up a few Christmas decorations.

December days may be short, but I love this time of year. Especially now that most of my committments through the end of the year have been completed.

I was once again surprised tonight to find out even more people read this website than I had believed. And as we were talking about it, I realized that I have been more harsh than I intended to be in some of my recent entries. For that I am sorry.

It can be difficult to balance my writing on here, especially when I remember that for at least a small but important group of people, most of what I’m writing is only barely anonymous. Most people I know, talk to, and see with any regularity would likely be able to know right away who or what I’m talking about. Sometimes I may express myself on here too freely, when perhaps I shouldn’t.

Other amends will be made at the appropriate time.

“Sir, I wanna buy these shoes,
“For my mama, please.
“It’s Christmas Eve and these shoes are just hersize.
“Could you hurry, sir?
“Daddy says there’s not much time.
“You see, she’s been sick for quite a while,
“And I know these shoes will make her smile.
“And I want her to look beautiful,
“If Mama meets Jesus tonight.”

I was getting my hair cut a two weekends back. As I was sitting there, a woman in the chair next to me was talking about the nonstop Christmas music and how they had played these two tear-jerker songs back to back.

And then she said, “I don’t know why they have to write such sad Christmas songs, anyway.”

Why? On the one hand, Christmas in its most religious interpretation is solely about the birth of Christ. In its most modern, commercial adaptation, it’s about snowmen and Santa and giving unnecessary piles of presents and gifts to one another that most of us don’t really need (not that I object, don’t misunderstand. And I’m as guilty as the next person when it comes to this part).

But these songs I find, despite their sappiness quotient, to be one of my favorite parts of the season. I like to believe they remind us that there’s more than just presents, more than a religious holiday here. That it’s really the season, the whole period between Thanksgiving and Christmas, to reflect on ourselves, how we treat one another, and how we want the world to be. It’s a time to give thanks, to make changes, and to give. It’s a time when everyone is a little more open to believing, to not being as cynical as they may otherwise be the rest of the year.

Putting aside all the parking space fights at the mall, of course.

I find this political cartoon sums up the election results all too well.

Courtesey of Jud Wible

While I was in Philly, I had a chance to catch up with Tammy (she’s Asian, btw, this is key to the “punchline”), a good friend from college who is currently a Resident at one of the hospitals in the city.

We settle on a Chinese restaurant she knows a few blocks from her apartment, so we walk over. We’re seated and our food order is taken. This being in Chinatown, the place settings only have chopsticks. As our food was being served, one of the wait staff offered me a fork, which I turned down. Unbeknownst to me, Tammy did want one, which they never offered to her. Another wait staff, independently, came by a minute later, again offering only me a fork. I again turned it down, telling them that Tammy did want one, but the concept was too foreign. So I just asked for two.

Interesting bit of stereotyping, I thought.

A few shots and a couple drinks buoyed my spirits Saturday night.

Generally, I try not to drink too much in a given evening. I place a high value on keeping my wits and stomach contents about me. However, circumstances sometimes call for a change of plans. I picked her up and brought her to Philly, then we began meeting up with others. It’s hard to define in that evening at which moment my respect for her began disappearing, but the alcohol certainly numbed the moment.

I’m just glad I didn’t have to drive her home. Another point for alcohol.