Sun, Jan. 4
... In the way you look at me
I still haven't mailed most of my Christmas cards and half of my Christmas presents. It seems that the procrastination that plagued me all semester has continued in through the break. This doesn't bode well for the semester that starts tomorrow. I've got to get myself on top of things this semester--just 4 more months, and it'll be over. I just have to push through the next few months, so that it will be over in April. Otherwise, that whole dream--plan--of graduating this year won't be such a reality.
This has been a good Christmas. In some ways it's sad that friends have such an influence, but this has been one of the least lonely I've had in several years. Not that I've had horrible holidays, but this year, there was just more of a sense of companionship, closeness, and people to share it with.
And now, it's back to life as usual. I always hope that after Christmas, I can carry a little bit of the magic into January. It's one of the hardest things to do, though. January is so bleak, and there's something about going back to school that gets a little more depressing every semester. Life goes back to normal, the weather gets colder, and it seems like spring is too far away to count on.
The Christmas tree has been taken down, the presents have been put away, last semester's binder has been cleaned out and fresh paper is in there, ready for the new semester's notes. People are back from Christmas vacation, Boxing Day sales have been shopped, New Year's Eve has been counted down, and another year has slipped into the vague something we call "history." The plans being made now aren't for where you're going to spend Christmas Day, but for what you're going to do for a summer job. The pageants, plays, parties, banquets, and candlelight services have all been attended, and tomorrow, all the weekly meetings begin again.
This is the end of Christmas break, the way it happens every year. We keep the magic out a little longer, but soon it's replaced by some other form of magic--the miracle of Easter, the joy of spring, the exhilaration of summer--and that buoys our spirits for a few more months, and soon, before we know it, Christmas will be upon us again, and it'll seem new.
The childlike wonder stays because Christmas doesn't. Christmas comes, and then it goes, and we marvel at it fresh each year, because we don't have it all the time. There's soemthing miraculous about seeing each new season, holiday, and special event, each year. The cycle is as predictable as sunrise and sunset, but it's so fresh each time that we can retain some of the innocence and vitality in a world that strips so much of that away from us.
infinite || abyss
posted at 1:36 p.m.
