Monday, November 23, 2009

A long overdue Christmas list

From freshman year high school to junior year college, I had stopped making Christmas wish lists. This is on account of several reasons.
  1. My wish lists have consisted of outrageous, nearly impossible demands. For instance: girlfriends, bodyguard monkeys, and the ability to shoot fire from my hands.
  2. Coming from less privileged roots, my parents have often shot down the majority of my holiday wishes. I have accepted that high-priced items are nigh-impossible to acquire, at least, by any fair means.
  3. I don't believe any gift will make me as happy as imagine them to be. In my mind, good friends, good exercise, good adventures, and good lovin' are the true components of happiness.
Because of these reasons, to me, Christmas, as it should be, has become more a holiday of substance than one of materialism.


Damn right, Charlie Brown.

But that doesn't mean I'm a completely wantless guy. There are things I would very-much appreciate, that, had I been in baby Jesus's shoes, would have very much liked the Magi to deliver unto my stable.

So in the spirit of change (and partial selfishness), I have decided to post a list of my Christmas wishes in the hopes that someone out there can fulfill one of these wishes or, at least, point me in the direction of acquiring them.

These wishes read as such.
  • A laptop. With my ADD becoming more progressively erratic, I have been in dire want of a portable word processor capable of keeping up with my sporadic thoughts. PCs are too damn heavy. And paper and pen just don't cut it anymore. A laptop would provide a generous outlet to my surging thoughts.
  • A Swiss Army knife. If you venture into the wilderness/ghetto/parties as much as I do, then you'd understand why I need to carry pliers/a blade/a corkscrew with me at all times. These things are damn useful.
  • An electric keyboard. I picked up the piano last year and have since fallen in love with its ivory touch. The catch? My piano back home is horrendously out of tune and the one that was loaned to me is on the verge of breaking. As beautiful as lobby pianos sound, I don't want to rely on venturing to my old dorm lounge for a chance to make music.
  • A car. Or as early twentieth century historians call it, THE big ticket item. Not having a car in a suburban setting—with suburban friends—really demonstrates how vital it is toward fulfilling, well, basic living needs. Personal transport is more valuable than many of us afford it credit.
  • A bookshelf. I am a voracious reader. If I could compare myself to any fictional character, it would be Henry Bemis of the Twilight Zone—you know, the book warm who survives a nuclear blast and basks in his newly afforded reading time, that is, until he ends up breaking his glasses. Ahem. But I digress. With over two hundred odd books in my collection, I would like some means, of organizing/displaying my knowledge out in the open. It's difficult to share your love of books with others when they can barely make it through your stockpile.
  • Job referrals. With about three hundred dollars to my name, a steady income would do wonders for my checking account. And seeing as how I don't really spend much on anything else but food, simply put, a weekly paycheck equals another month at, well, living.
  • Cargo sweatpants. The amalgamation of my love for comfortable clothing and unnecessary pockets. Nothing says sleepy pack-rat than this underrated article of clothing. I feel naked with only two pairs.
  • A digital SLR and a 50mm lens. Not many people know this, but I'm a huge, photo-geek. In my rare hours of boredom, you can find me perusing the weekly highlights of flickr and crying because my CyberShot can only hope to capture visual milestones with such clarity. The most expensive item on my list and but definitely NOT the most desired.
  • A bottle of liqueur, like Tequila Rose, KahlĂșa, Allen's, or Bailey's. I don't need to explain the necessity of alcohol to a college student, do I?
  • And lastly, soft-baked chocolate chip cookies. Because nothing says "I love you" more than a gooey mouthgasm in, as my friend JR says, "yo' mouf."


Heart shape not necessary.

That's it for now.

Though I acknowledge Christmas as an idealization of "what really matters," it would be nice for once to get something this Christmas that I have, before December 25th, actually wanted. If nothing else—if not the laptop, my lethal Swiss Army knife, or my bodyguard monkey—then by God, I want my cookies.

I promise to share them with those I love.

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