On Holiday Gifts:

I will be giving very few gifts in person. Most people like mail, so I'll be making and mailing gifts to y'all. 100% unique, but somewhat cheap and lettery. But they're a one-at-a-time process, and I'm taking my time because I want them to be good. Sam's is in the mail. I've got ideas for most people, but I'm taking my time on a few people (Areli being an excellent example -- but hers will evolve into a birthday thing anyway, so maybe that's a bad example) because I want them to be fully-formed, not some half-assed thing I whip out. So it's a slow process, but most people (read: Alaskan buddies) will be receiving mail from me over the next couple of months.

Clearer above: You'll all get something eventually. And it will be a thoughtful, personal gift.

In other news, I'm home.

I am still reading y'all's journals and whatnot. But don't expect replies to anything until the weekend. I'm in PDX without much computerage. This is Kyle's laptop at the commie cafe open mic night. Free wi-fi and loud grrrrrrrrrrrrrrl rawk,etc. Expect me in Anchorage late on the 20th. 21st, really. happy 'olidays.

It occurred to me today that a lot of my life is complete escapism. But I don't really object to that because what exactly am I escaping? I'm more or less at peace with the burning philosophical questions with my unique blend of existentialism and bullshit, I meet my basic survival needs admirably (we made a hearty Irish stew!) and my various mental illnesses are usually at some kind of equilibrium. So why not distract myself with blogs, chocolate, movies and Dave Eggers? Other than it feeling kind of superficial in that leaves-a-bad-taste sort of way, I mean. I haven't created much lately. That kind of smarts. The rut I'm in now was better than the rut I was in before, which was better than the rut I was in before, which... is this recursive, relative non-suckitude life? Gotta say that's not so attractive. Good thing I bought an iPod (20GB).

Hey, please don't read this as self-pity or any of that crap. I'm totally smiling right now. There's some funny stuff in here. I mean, I know that little consumer thrill people get when they indulge themselves. Usually, since I'm cheap as hell, it's how I feel when I buy myself a book or a new pen (and don't pretend you don't enjoy it -- you're all like me). And then later, you're writing with your new pen, and it's awesome. Great flow, nice grip...it's a fucking RUSH! But after a little bit, it's not necessarily the first pen you reach for. It becomes one of the half dozen you carry in the front part of your backpack, and whichever one you fish out first takes the notes that day. A different, older pen will splutter out of ink, and hmm. Maybe you oughta get a new pen. If you're like me, you'll hold out until most of that half dozen needs replacing, and then you'll make a calculated decision with a coupon. It totally looks like you're a dorky miser, but you are fucking STOKED when you try out every color in that style you like. Check out the ballpoint on THAT bad boy! The coupon and test pads are just icing -- the hunt for acquisition is definitely the cake AND ice cream. But what happened to that pen you bought X ago? Oh, it's okay, but just get a load of this one! And I've got a coupon!

Or buying a book when you know there are at least two new ones sitting unread, pining for attention on your shelf, looking to your battered Neruda and Steinbeck for guidance. Pablo and Johnny aren't much help. They've always been well-thumbed. I got The Best American Nonrequired Reading 2004 for my birthday, but I'm not quite done with 2002. And I bought myself the complete short works of Kafka in PDX. So Old School is giving me a dirty look, but Cruddy is trying to calm him down. I got around to Lynda Barry, and I'll get around to Tobias Wolff, and man. It's worth waiting for.

Grabman, Sophie, Meg, whoever else may know: Where can I find Dreamweaver for no money? Or at least a trial version that I can scam?

Taking a brain-break from the final chapter (!!!!!) of Ulysses, on which I must give a presentation tomorrow. School-wise, tomorrow sucks. But otherwise, it should be awesome. I am leaving my teen years behind. In fact, in about 34 minutes, I'll be 20. The Awkward stage will cease. I will neither stumble nor walk, but float. Glide, if you will. (Ha. Given my absurd level of klutziness, I may have to hold out for 30. Or my next incarnation.) Kyle has taken over celebration plans, and I know nothing of what's going on. It's like Christmas eve, here. Except for the studying.

I SWEAR TO GOD I saw Snoop Dogg talking on a cell phone, smoking a cigarillo and driving a white Honda Civic (California plates) through the streets of Eugene today. Seriously. Down to the cornrows and mad cheekbones.

U of O has suddenly become a very alienating place in many ways. It doesn't always feel like I have a lot of friends here.

I will return to Anchortown on the 20th, and depart again on the 31st. Missing everybody ridiculously. I even found myself missing Europa (hellish bakery at which I slaved for almost two years).

There's a lot to say. I think of things I want to tell everyone every goddamn day. But I never write it down and it gets lost in the brainstuffings. More later. Perhaps much later. It IS dead week, after all.