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…is to live in your world, just for a few hours. Ignorance is bliss, and your very existence makes you a walking proof-of-concept. I want a world where the only important things are image and connections. I want mommy and daddy to hand me everything on a platinum platter. If my 2nd hand Mercedes has the smallest of mechanical difficulties, I want them to step in and buy me a $30,000 car just so I don't have to take the bus to 11th grade. Shelter me with pointless wealth.

Shade me from the real world, you can have it, I don't like it anymore. My real world involves friends of mine trying to kill themselves by drinking a cocktail of industrial-strength cleaners and solvents. This is the most amazing human being I have ever met in my life. She is beautiful, intelligent, and enlightened. She did this because she looks at the world around her and realizes how totally screwed up the society in which she lives is. It isn't even the social pox that Northern Virginia seems to have become; it's the whole world. So what happens after the most amazing woman I've ever met spends an hour rolling around on the living room floor, as the cleaner which should be turning her internal organs into a protoplasmic soup rushes through her system? X-rays, and a full examination, after a stomach pump. Results? No sign that she swallowed anything. So, she's a miracle or something. Twenty minutes in conversation with her told me that. Did I ask for this rather dramatic example? Hell no.

Did I ask for the first person who did anything nice for me after moving into this armpit of existence to get stabbed 3 times in the chest and have his fucking throat cut from ear to ear then crawl two and a half blocks to his friend's house, and not actually be given the release from that pain until he was in the Medivac chopper? All of that pain, issued by total strangers, over three fucking beers?

Do I ever ask for the drama and pain that inserts itself into my life so often like bending my mind over in a prison cell and commencing to duties without the benefit or mercy of so much as some jelly? No, I don't. So for Christmas, even though Jesus has no place in my life, and the rampant commercialism of the whole season is appalling to me, can I live in that beautiful world of total ignorance, if only for a few hours? The world around me seems to think that I'm a portable Freud, and I think it's about time I had a damned vacation.