see as i saw

There is nothing that better describes the rhythm of my day than this plate of cookies. Eat, drink. Eat some more, have another drink. Not hungry, but I think I'll eat.

Admittedly there was a single hour this morning, before the holiday system got a hold on me, where I went to the gym. That effort was likely nullified by a single bite. My willpower remains meaningless for one more day; then I'll consider tending to my body's true nutritional needs again.

Luckily Santa doesn't come to my house anymore.  There wouldn't be any cookies left to feed him.  I think I saw some baby carrots in the fridge though; those are fair game.

The first day of Christmas is (nearly) over.  And it has already been an exhausting festival of family and food.  I have been eyeballing the clock for at least two hours, wondering when it's acceptable to fall asleep without the nasty side effect of being wide awake at 4:00am.

As a kid, I recall my parents pretty consistently tuning into the evening or prime time local news.  Do I remember the contents of the newscasts?  Not particularly.  What I do know is that, at the age of 28, I often have a difficult time working the local TV news into my agenda, because it tends to feel more depressing than it does informative.

From a psychology standpoint, I suppose I understand that their mission is to focus on the juicier and more sensational bits.  In general, that's what draws people in.  It just causes me to wonder if there happen to be good things occurring in our society.

For example, in the first five minutes of a local newscast tonight, here's what they told me about.

1. Bank robbers escaping from a downtown Chicago prison, with a focus on how the trail has gone cold in the search
2. The death of a NIU freshman at the hands of fraternity hazing
3. A Chicago fire that is now looking suspiciously like a murder

We went on to talk about less sensational topics for a minute, although still in a dramatic tone (CTA fare hikes, blizzard-like conditions), before moving back to Newtown and the NRA's response to all of the talk about gun control.  Revert to sports news: the Bears have another injury, Joaquin Noah is leaving his wild ways behind, so on and so forth.

Finally, thirty minutes in, for the final story of the newscast, we were graced with a blip about how a tweet from Ann Curry is causing random acts of kindness.  I'm not sure if we even glossed over the topic for 30 seconds before the newscast was over.

There's constant debates about how newsworthy, factual or accurate our news actually is - I'm not getting into that argument.  This isn't about agenda-setting and persuasion.  This is about how I'd love to see the lead story on my local news sway a little more positive and a little less homicide and arson.  At least once in a while.

I didn't quite push my way into the throngs of people drinking out of boots and noshing on bratwurst, but I edged along the outskirts of the Christkindlmarket.  It was only an extra block beyond my bus stop and it seemed like a good, albeit short, diversion before finding myself in the usual evening situation.  Couch and pajamas.

Despite the fact that I work with three (occasionally four) men, they are all married men...each with a child under two years old.  Therefore, things flow pretty seamlessly between frat house humor and stroller chat.  I suppose there was only a trace amount of surprise when it was suggested that we have a cookie exchange on Monday.

So I have a weekend mission.  It involves at least a trip to the grocery story and an hour or so in the kitchen.  Let's hope I can match the domestic skills of my married male compatriots and arrive on Monday with a worthy batch of snickerdoodles.

It's not that I'm Scrooge, I just don't have quite as much holiday cheer as most people.  Working in retail kind of turned me off holiday music.  Unless it's *NSYNC - Home for Christmas; that stuff is pure magic.  And I'm also a sucker for the ultimate Mariah holiday song.  I won't even deign to name it, you're already hearing it in your head.

One of the lines that I draw is a Christmas tree.  First of all, logistically, this studio apartment just isn't made for it.  Then there's the hassle of getting it in and out of the building, cleaning up after it, decorating and undecorating.  I'm tired just thinking about it.  So I'll just enjoy the scent of other people's trees when I visit.

Instead I've figured out a purpose for the fireplace, which otherwise serves as a rather vestigial part of my apartment.  (Thanks to the baseboard heat that never stops pumping - in fact, my window is open right now.)  I've taken to calling this my Christmas vignette.  A little $6 holiday celebration of red lights, ornaments, vases and a candle.  Fifteen minutes a year to unpack, set up, take down, and put away annually.

I don't make Christmas cookies, but I love to eat them.  I can't remember the last time I watched a traditional holiday movie, but I've seen most of Lifetime and ABC Family's repertoires.  They're horrible and I love every second of it.  I own zero ugly holiday sweaters or Santa hats.  Everyone celebrates the holidays in their own way, this just happens to be my way.

I also really wanted to play with my camera's settings in a situation containing twinkle lights.  As you can tell from the two similar, yet somehow distinctly different, photos that I've included today.

It's amazing how exhausting continuous days of mental exertion can be.  Or simply shaving off three hours of sleep that you're accustomed to.  It seems to fine tune all of my senses.  Noises seem louder, sharper, more clamorous.  Smells are too pungent, all-encompassing.  Lights are too bright.  Yet, everything tastes good.

All I could think about in my mental and physical exhaustion was the delicious comfort of carbohydrate-laden foods.  My body was yearning for bread and pasta.  So I indulged.  I met head on with an act of winter hibernation survival.  And I relished every ounce of those carbs, feeling guilty for none of it.  Even topping off the night with a little Ghiradelli chocolate ice cream for good measure.

Now I'm happily full, sleepier than ever, and barely making it through this post with open eyes.  I will dig deep for the effort required to transfer from my cozy state on the couch, only because my bed has so much more real estate and better pillows.

 I am happy to report that my streak remains alive.  While walking home from work tonight, I was sidelined by a directionally-challanged tourist who apparently thought I looked like I knew the answers.  And I did.  Of course, I was also harangued by a woman who was looking for my reaction to the assertion that she could show me the female image of God.

Life in the New York office is such an interesting change of pace.  The conversations are different, the amount of stock in the kitchen is different, the male to female ratio is clearly on the other end of the scale.

Of the many productive things accomplished today, we determined that there needed to be office parlance for a "hard stop" that has a small range.  So, for instance, having to finish a meeting between 4:00 and 4:15.  You really can't go past 4:15, but in an ideal world you'd escape at 4:00.  This shall now be known as a semi-malleable stop.  Pass it on.

This morning as I was grabbing some Cold Brew coffee out of the fridge (a little upgrade from my daily Starbucks Via), I was forewarned that there was a shortage of milk.  Due to the Cold Brew's high concentration, you'd better be immune to caffeine if you're going to drink it straight.  I opened the fridge to reveal four varieties of milk, including one non-dairy.  First world problems at their best.

My commute to the New York office is also a different experience.  Since it's only a mile from my lodging, I hoof it instead of taking the subway.  They say cardiovascular activity is good for you.  It also gives me an opportunity to witness, and occasionally join, a real-life game of frogger at every crosswalk.  No one looks at walk signals, they may as well remove them.

All of that considered, I'm still coming back for you, Chicago.  It's just nice to have an opportunity to shake things up every once in awhile.