I Believe

I wrote a letter to Santa.
I've wrapped boxes full of things I adore for people I love.
I've hung my wreathes.
I've decorated my puppies.
I've watched more than 20 specials on the TV.

I believe in the twinkle lights and glitter and the really good "cheer" and my tremendous stash of friends and the ribbons and bows and Lifetime Made for Television holiday fare and all the rest of the magic that goes with this time of year!

What I don't believe in is buying gifts for people I barely know or hardly see, being forced to participate in festive gatherings out of obligation, spending a fortune on presents for children, using the season as an excuse for gluttony, trying to "make a point," and insincere expressions of merriment.

I really thought I had something more in me on this, but I just don't. Maybe we should just consider this a reminder that you will receive in return that which you gave. I believe!

None for Me, Thank You Very Much!

Christmas can be an awkward time for those of us who intentionally hold no religious affiliation. It’s fraught with the declining of invitations to attend pageants and services and yet another, “come with us to see our neighbor’s nativity scene!" This rant is dedicated to those of you who extend these invitations/commands year after year as though something is going to dramatically change and we'll suddenly decide that everything we hold dear is of no consequence and come running whatnot... enthusiastically.

First, I would like to offer some advice on how to gracefully accept “no” as an answer.

1. Do not ask “why not?” It’s in poor form.
2. Do not plead or bribe. The answer will now be an agitated “no!”
3. Appreciate that your non-religious, non-conformist friend(s) will find a way to avoid you at the holidays going forward if you don’t respect their holiday traditions - or lack thereof.

[Sidebar: When you say no – to anyone for any reason – it is absolutely NOT necessary to offer up an explanation. When faced with an invitation that makes you want to run screaming to the back of your closet with a bottle of vodka rather than accept, your options are few: lie (always a bad idea); be truthful and risk hurting someone’s feelings; or silence. I recommend the third.]

I think we'd all like you to spend a little time mulling over why you’re so dead-set on getting us to your little shindigs in the first place. Is it really worth how annoyed I'd be just so you can add one more person to the audience when your 7-year-old son performs his ear-piercing violin rendition of Silent Night, or your grossly overweight daughter appears as a manger animal?

We of the non-religious persuasion are not curmudgeons. Quite the opposite, actually. I think we’re often more filled with the spirit of the season than many of our “religious” friends. And it’s not just the spirit we call booze! We don't feel the need to bust out a religious holiday in order to have an excuse for doing what people should do all the time anyway. We don’t need the guilt or fear of organized religion to make us "do unto others as we would have done unto us.” We heed the Golden Rule on principle, and we're mindful of  the power of "karmageddeon!"

Now, before you make me wear a new kind of letter on my pinafore, put an armband on my sleeve, or send over the bible-thumpers to save my poor soul from eternal damnation, let me type out loud that I’m not an atheist. Technically, I’m not agnostic either. By definition, an atheist, in the broadest sense of the term, is one who does not believe in any God or deity. Operative word: any.

To say one is agnostic, by definition, is to believe that the truth of a deity or other metaphysical power is unknowable. We could get into the semantics of this, but really. Why?

I consider myself simply a non-religious person. I do believe in the power of The Universe; I do not believe in any one God. I go with what I know and in this I have tremendous faith. For instance:

I have faith that I will, in fact, eat all of the orange cinnamon rolls if left alone with them.
I have faith that at least two people at some holiday gathering will irritate me to the point of having to keep a glass of “spirit” to my lips for hours on end in a gallant effort not to tell them to shut the hell up!
I have faith in inherent good.
I have faith that The Universe will never stop surprising me.
I have faith that as long as we continue to rise above the mire, we will continue not to get dirty… and I’m not a fan of dirt.

Now I'm wondering if I need to point out that Faith and Belief are two very different things. Belief is based in circumstances concreted into our own personal facts. For instance:

I believe that one must be cautious after dark.
I believe that four martinis will make just about anyone wear a lampshade.
I believe that no matter what, I cannot change – by choice or desire – the ultimate outcome of anything.
I believe that those without faith in their friendships are destined to chase something they’ll never catch.
I believe in my hairstylist’s innate sense of confidentiality.
I know you can’t change what other people want or need to believe.

I take great comfort in knowing that I will never be confused with a Christmas Catholic or Hanukkah Jew. I know what I know and that’s enough, thank you very much. Happy celebrations of whatever, Dear Readers!

Ah, the Romance

I. Watch. Too. Many. Romantic. Movies.

I’ve seen a lot of tragedy in my life – the vast majority of which was completely out of my control. For a control freak like me, that’s a tough nut. Nonetheless, those are the facts. That said, one would think I could do a better job controlling the things I can… like not watching romantic movies.

I figure these are written by women who, just like me, want to live in this crazy fantasyland where, through a series of serendipitous circumstances, whatever it is we want most in this world can be ours. I know it’s completely irrational and that spending even a minute hoping it’s possible is a minute wasted.

But still…

I dedicate hours on end to classics like Philadelphia Story (though in my defense, it’s one of the best movies ever produced) His Girl Friday, Sabrina (the original) and Adam’s Rib. I can spend entire weekends watching the romance-a-thon on Turner Classic Movies.

But I’m not a romance snob…

I grab a tissue box to watch The Lake House every time it comes on just to wrap myself in the feeling of true dedication to a relationship.

And who in their right mind wouldn’t pop some corn to watch When Harry Met Sally, You’ve Got Mail, Kate & Leopold – or any Meg Ryan romantic comedy for that matter? You know those are always heading for an uplifting and hopeful end.

Love Actually, My Best Friend’s Wedding, Notting Hill, High Fidelity, About a Boy, Did You Hear About the Morgans?, Dying Young, Autumn in New York, The Truth About Cats and Dogs, Serendipity. Oh! The Holiday! *swoons*

Really, I could name thousands.

It’s a freakin’ sickness with me, these movies. Part escapism, part wishful thinking, part artistry and part hopeful romantic… I just keep curling up on the sofa to watch, knowing perfectly well that in the end, I’ll only be one of two things: hopeful, or wrung-out depressed.

I wonder how many of the romantic comedies are written by men, and of those, how many are married? Are they all full of witty banter and graceful handling at home, or are they just a bunch of schmuggs?

I’m not sure how to go about breaking this bad habit, though frankly, I’m not convinced I really want to give up on the possibilities these movies present. Sure, it’s completely unrealistic to think those wonderful scenarios can play out in real life… but if someone thought to write it, surely it's not completely impossible.

*sighs*

Now that I’m done with that topic, this seems like a good time to talk about popcorn. How about giving up the non-biodegradable microwave popcorn bags and try this. Get a lunch sack, fill it with a ½ cup of popcorn kernels, fold the top over twice (do not clip or staple or do anything else stupid). Pop it into the microwave on high for 2-3 minutes or until the popping is down to 2-3 per second. Now top with about a pound of real butter and salt it like crazy! Voila!

Black Friday

This entire month nearly came and went without a word from me. Technically, I suppose it still will as this is a repost from last year. Nonetheless, some things bear repeating.
 
I don’t care what time of year it is, when I’m paying $5 for a cup of coffee, I want what I want, and I want it however I ask for it. Do not raise your eyebrows at me little Miss Barista, when I politely tell you that I would like a venti, non-fat, no foam, almond, gingerbread latte, with two extra shots. This is America and I’m perversely self-entitled. It’s my prerogative. Much like my un-American boycott of Black Friday.

Clarification: Said boycott actually has less to do with the long reaching, economic predictor holiday arm than it does with an early life discovery that the bars are open and the bartenders are bored. Holiday spending and gift-giving probably does induce pre- and post-seasonal depression. I say it’s kinder to keep that to yourself. It’s a different kind of holiday giving.

I think the whole Black Friday tradition of beating the hell out of people for 24 to 72 hours in an effort to procure bargains completely defies logic. What sane individual willingly leaves their home in a state of post-Thanksgiving lethargy, to get into a moving vehicle, negotiate traffic, circle endlessly in search of up front parking (because we don’t want to burn off any excess calories by parking at a distance from the destination), elbow mannerless other shoppers out of the way, and wait on endless lines all for the possibility of saving a few dollars, only to return home exhausted and further financially burdened?

NEWSFLASH PEOPLE: These same deals are available online and I haven’t paid for shipping in years. There’s a code for that…

I learned a long time ago that the whole of holiday shopping is something best done in the seclusion of my home office with a strong toddy. It’s been and will remain a perfect arrangement and my own personal holiday tradition.

If it’s the “spirit of the season” that forces you out of the house, I have an idea. Remember that bartender? Take your fancy phone with its fancy applications and park yourself on a stool in front of him… or her. Now you not only have the comfort of a chair and a cocktail, you also have a shopping mate. Believe me when I say, some of my best, and most unusual, gift ideas have come from bartenders. Not only do they know stuff, they know people. They’re a wealth of information, from who hates what newest electronic gadget and why; to all the reasons you might reconsider purchasing that diamond solitaire based on last weekend’s shenanigans.

Disclaimer: If you have reason to believe that I know you were planning that diamond purchase and are now wondering what I know that you don’t – it purely coincidental. I don’t know anything about anyone. Move along, People. There’s no show here.

OK. That’s all I have on this. Drink and shop responsibly.

Don't Pet My Peeve

For some time now, I’ve been putting together a random list of my pet peeves… so imagine my surprise when I read two of them on Sarcasm Society this morning. Ba!

The upside is that it lit a fire under me to share these little bits of insight and wisdom. Note that this list was not put together in a rush or ill advisedly. I’m also not certain it’s complete…

“I could care less”
Really? Could you? Then perhaps you should. The idiom is, “I couldn’t care less,” meaning the amount you care doesn't even exist at rock-bottom. I promise that if you use this phrase incorrectly, I will gently correct you by saying, very slowly in hopes your feeble mind will take note, “I could not possibly care any less.”

“Trust me…”
Because… why? You normally lie but this time you’re telling the truth? Because you think you know more about a given situation than anyone else? Are you seriously that self-involved that you believe you’re the ultimate authority? Just hearing you say that immediately generates a knee-jerk reaction from me not to trust you.

“I want to say…”
Well then go ahead, say it. I had a friend once who thought making fun of people who said this was absolutely the funniest, make-you-snort-with-laughter thing ever. Agreed. If you don’t know, just say you don’t know. Don’t guess and preface it with that expression. It’s ridiculous. Consider it said.

“LOL”
This is not something you type in a text, IM, or chat room just to fill the silence. And are you really laughing out loud? I doubt it. If you are actually chortling, how about employing the use of a phrase less pedestrian?

And while we’re on the topic of texting, why oh why do you think I want to waste time locating my chirping cell just to read your conversation ending, “K.” Here’s the thing: acquiescence is implied by your silence. For example: “I’ll meet you at the bar at 9.” If for some reason you’re not going to make it, then respond as such. Otherwise, go on about the business of preparation so you’re not late.

Oh, the perpetually tardy. You can judge an adult’s sense of respect for others based solely on whether or not they can manage to consistently be on time. I’ve ranted through this topic on numerous occasions, but if you missed it, go read Time Time Time.

Whistling. Some would say this bothers me because I can’t do it. I say I can’t do it because, well, why would I want to? I fail to see any reason why someone would fill a car with this harsh, high-pitched racket when there’s a perfectly conversational companion in the next seat. There is absolutely no call for walking around the office or anywhere else you’re not alone making this incredibly annoying noise. Let’s make a deal, I promise to continue only singing in the shower if you promise to only whistle there. And to be specific, your own shower, not mine. Preferably in another state. Thank you for your cooperation.

I know people who lie about the most asinine things. Things no one actually cares about anyway. It’s part of a game of one-upmanship and I have no tolerance for this sort of behavior. In what Universe do you suppose telling me how wonderful or dedicated or whatever you are is going to make a difference in my life? I live in my own little Jana Bubble. If it doesn’t directly impact me or my serenity I don’t give a shit what you do, when you do it, or who you’re doing it with. Lie about it though and you’re dead to me.

This list goes on to include things like bad table manners, no manners, loud-mouthed women, white after Labor Day no matter what “fashion” says this year, people who can’t hold their liquor or behave properly under the influence of one-too-many, children who don’t understand the phrase “seen but not heard” and the insecure parents who let them get away with acts of total disrespect, pettiness, and the slovenly.

*whew*

After all of that, it might seem like it’s difficult to be with me. It’s not. Merely think before you speak, and consider the outcome before you act. *shrugs*

All the Single Ladies

Are you seriously telling me that you can’t/won’t walk into a bar or restaurant alone? Good grief. *eyeroll* Next you’re going to tell me that you can’t/won’t eat out on your own or go to a movie solo!

Girls, as hard as this may be to digest, when you enter a building alone, people are not staring at you. To be brutally honest, the chance that anyone even noticed is slim. What? Now you’re insulted? Don’t be. It’s your own fault. You slink in hoping no one will see you, and sure enough, no one will.

I don’t mind waiting for someone at the bar (I’m habitually early) or dining out by myself. I know people aren’t staring at me or whispering about the woman sitting alone. In fact, I suspect some are actually envious. Whatever. The point I’m trying to make is that doing this is not scary or weird. In fact, for those living in Singledom, it can really work in your favor.

Irrespective of the other qualities on the list – great rack, sense of humor, millionaire – you’ll find that everyone is supposedly looking for a partner with confidence. Sure, you say you’re confident… then you cower in your car pretending to be on a call until you see your friends roll up. Really? You’re ridiculous.

There’s something hot, and kind of mysterious, about someone who can sit alone and enjoy a cocktail without “props.” That’s right. Put your phone down. Unless you’re actually a surgeon or an emergency veterinarian, you are not that important. The phone only serves to make you look desperate. And it’s just sad. So stop it. Need something to do while you wait?

• Sit up straight. Slouching is not only pathetic, it makes you look fat.
• Make eye contact and smile. Not that skeevy “come hither” smile you use in the clubs; just a little upturn of the mouth. Girls: men will find it charming; women will feel a kinship with you. Boys: flip that. It’s a win-win.
• People watch. Don’t be all Creep McGreeps about it, but take a sincere look. You’ll quickly realize that you’re not the topic of conversation, and most likely there are other people who are waiting on their inconsiderate, late friends, too. You are not alone.

When dining unaccompanied, I make this concession: feel free to use this time to catch up on your reading. Food service isn’t always paced to my liking and since I’m always 2-3 months behind on my magazines and desperately trying to finish a book, it’s like multi-tasking. And I’m always surprised how often some random person will send me a glass of wine. It’s nice.

[A note of caution: be aware that you’re a “1-top” and the server will want to turn your table with all due speed. If you’re camping out, order and tip accordingly. The Rule: appropriate tip for camping is 20% of what the bill would have been if you were a 2-top… so 40% minimum of your check.]

As for the movies, there are few things in this life I enjoy more than going to a show by myself. If you’ve never done this, or you’re not comfortable doing things on your own, choose a movie time that falls shortly after your next appointment with your shrink, and give it a go. I promise it’s fantastic. No one talks to you. No one asks you what was just said onscreen. You don’t have to explain the jokes, and most importantly, no one is shoving their big bear paw into your 2-gallon bucket of popcorn turning all the fluffy deliciousness into crumbs.

Bottom line: get over yourself. Everyone else is already over you.

Time, Time, Time...

I know, I’ve harped on this topic before, but it bears repeating. I’ll be brief.
There are very few things in this world we actually have control over. The sooner you grasp that concept the better off you’ll be. Something we can control is our time – more specifically, our time management skills.

You’ve been performing the shower, shampoo, and shine dance since you were a teenager. You know exactly how long it takes to go from bath to door. My question is this: why the hell are you always late?

Aside from the fact that it’s inexcusably intolerable, think about what this says about YOU. You’re telling people – your friends! – that your time is more valuable than their time; that it’s more important to you to jack around, dallying about with whatever distraction, than it is to be respectful.

Being late does not make you appear “cool” or oh-so-busy that you just couldn’t get where you were going on time what with being in such high demand. To the contrary, it serves to cement the fact that you’re selfish and inconsiderate.

So! For those of you who “just can’t” be on time, here’s a little time management gift from me to you.

1. Accept invitation
2. Post invitation wherever necessary so as not to forget
3. Determine location of meeting place using whatever means at your disposal
4. Mentally gauge how long it will take you to transport yourself to said location based on time of day
5. Factor in any additional stops which may be required such as filling your gas tank or that “quick” detour by your parent’s house
6. Determine how long preparations for rendezvous will take
7. Now use the following formula:

• Event Time – (transportation time + 10 minus) – (preparation time + 10 minutes) = Bath Time

I do realize that if you can’t consistently arrive at a designated location at a designated time, math might be a bit over your head, so try tucking into this:

• 8:00PM meet at favorite bar – (15 minutes to get there + 10 minutes just in case) – (1 hour to get ready + 10 minutes to change mind about hair style) = 6:20PM bath time

Note that by building in an extra 10 minutes to preparation time, I can reassess my ensemble if need be. The additional 10 in transportation ensures that if traffic is particularly congested, I’m still in line to arrive promptly.

If you’re reading this and mentally composing your scathing “Comment” for insertion below, mull this scenario over first:

You’re going out on “a big date.” He’s said he’ll pick you up at 7pm.
At 7:05 you're checking out the peep hole.
At 7:15, you’re blatantly throwing open the curtains to check the street.
At 7:25 you turn out all the lights and swear you’re not opening the door when he arrives.
At 7:26 you’re not sure you have the right night so you turn on the lights to check whatever mechanism you stored this big event reminder on.
At 7:40 you’ve decided to change into jeans and bail when there’s a knock at the door.
Remember how pissed you were a minute ago? There you have it. You’re glad your date hasn’t stood you up but you’re looking for a mighty damn good explanation for being treated with such gross disrespect. After all, you could’ve spent that time doing plenty of things other than waiting.

The principle of this scenario plays out the same when you keep your girlfriends waiting. It’s just as rude and inconsiderate and just so we’re clear, I won’t wait. If you’re late because you didn’t want to be alone waiting for me, you’re in for a longer wait than you thought.

From time to time, unexpected circumstances arise which put you off schedule. I get that; I’m not a complete hard-ass. You’re late. But you know you’re late. You knew you were late well before the pre-determined meeting time. So call whomever you’re meeting! And don’t wait until after you’re late – they already know! You don't wait until 5 minutes before you're supposed to be somewhere. You place that call the moment you realize you're going to keep someone waiting. For all you know they may have had something come up and now they’re busting their ass to be on time – and making it – but could slow down and take a breath knowing that there’s been a 30 minute delay.

If your “big issue” is that you’re just not comfortable walking into a bar or restaurant alone, get over it! Walk in, sit down, order a drink and look around. No one is staring at you! Quit acting like a school kid.

Being on time doesn’t appear desperate. Quite the opposite, really. It shows your friends, family, or business acquaintances that you’re excited and reliable. People do not respect those who cannot be depended on to do what they commit to doing.

Being on time is easy and 100% under your control. Grow up.