November 28, 2021

*phew* another messed up year. But very different than any of the rest. There are several years that I think of in pairs: 2020 had a lot in common with 2009 for me personally, 2018 & 2012 go together, 2007 & 2010...but 2021 is very much its own flavor, like 2014 or 2006, can't be compared to any other year. For now. Maybe the year that serves as counterpart to this year will come to me much later. I won't say "who knows?" because I'm sure someone does, and I'm not really asking. What I'll say is, time will tell.

I like to post things in December. I've been doing it for a while now. Part of it is just vanity. There's usually a dramatic decrease in new writeups posted after November's Iron Noder finishes, and many of the hard workin' regulars are tired out from noding. This simply means there's more of a chance for my work to be noticed, compared to November when it's more likely to be lost in the shuffle. I'm not proud of this per se but I have to admit the truth, this is a small part of the reason. But there's a similar quiet that comes in other times of the year, after other quests end or just a natural quiet. There's something much more personally symbolic about December for me. It's always felt special, and not because of "the holidays." As the alleged, de facto last month of the year and the month when Autumn deadens its grip into cold bare gray Winter I get...introspective.

It's been shit lately. And I've been quiet, pensive. Ok frustrated.

I've written some things I want to post and some of them are a little messed up. Or at least they are to me. You might not find them so, reader, because you'll inevitably see them differently than I do. You won't have the framework of my experiences and perspective to see them by. Such is art, such is the whole point.

And not everything I want to post is messed up but in the first place I guess it's nothing new for me to be posting dense or heavy handed writeups, right? You tell me. But whatever. I'm still vain as an artist, truthfully I'm still a fucked up little kid like I was in 2009 when I joined this website, but this year I've really started to finally and undisputably feel respected on E2. I don't know what took me so long, so many noders here have been respecting and appreciating me for the longest time. But in any case I've only just started to feel that confidence of my presence here, as a voice, as a noder. So...I guess that's one good thing about 2021. The other good thing is that there's more opportunity yet in the year, as it's not quite--

I am visiting M. She is a mentor and old friend.

This morning she says, "Here, you'll like this." and tosses something fuzzy at me.

It is a clip on bow tie. Covered with mink fur. Real mink we think that doesn't stink.

It is an old clip. The two wings fold up to open the metal arms underneath, which clip to grip when the arms are folded back down.

"You can use it to clip a sweater together."

I promptly add it to the fairly strange sweater I am wearing. "How's that?"

"Too much." says M.

I knew that. Doesn't work with this sweater.

I clip it in my hair instead. The clip works in my hair. It looks like I have a large brown woolly bear on my head, as if it should move at any moment.

And who wore mink clip on bow ties? That's the real mystery in second hand shopping. Who bought this and what were they thinking?

Tonight's the first night of Hannukah and I'm not Jewish so what do I care? Well I'll tell ya because it's a story.

See, back in late December 2019, just before the plague began to creep through our land, there was this big Hannukah celebration in the square. Dancing and music and all that. It was fun. They were handing out free menorah kits.

So I took one. And I thought "well jeez if I took one of these things I might as well use it right?" So I took the thing home, opened the box, set up the candles -- the menorah was a cheap piece of sheet metal but it did its job. I put the menorah in the window of my bedroom, lit the candles, and recited the blessings.

And every night I would say the blessings, light the candles, turn off the lights, and lay in bed, watching the candles slowly burn down, until they were spent, and then I would fall asleep.

That year had been a terrible year for me. A friend had died, I was unemployed, I was ashamed of my life being idle, the world was dark and cold, and all grief was magnified by ADHD drugs that I probably shouldn't have been taking in the normal dosage, or at all. But in Hannukah I found a measure of stability, a whole week of it. Whatever else happened on a day, I knew how the day would end, and I knew I had to make it happen. You don't give up on Hannukah halfway through. 

The menorah was a bright little light that guided me through a dark time.

I repeated that little Hannukah the following year, in memory of that guiding light. I shall do it every year if I am able. Like I said, I'm not Jewish, I'm not going to pretend I am. Nor is this a full Hannukah -- it's a solitary affair where Judaism depends upon community. It's my business alone, and if I weren't supposed to put the menorah in a window facing the street I wouldn't. As a matter of fact, I worry that by telling you all this I sound like bragging about the whole thing. But -- I had to tell you in order to give you the context for something amusing I realized when I watched those candles.

Because when the candles had burned down to little stubs, they still kept going. There was always one or two that would be little more than a smidgen of wax and a scrap of wick clinging to the side of the holder, and yet they would burn with a tiny little flame, some nights nearly as long as the candles had taken to burn down. It was as if they weren't going to go out after all.

Call that a Hannukah miracle.