Bah Humbug!

I really wasn't going to do this, but this blog is my outlet, and I feel the need to vent. When you receive the diagnosis of cancer, I'm sure that it comes as a shock and a blow at any time of the year. But, to get it in the middle of the holiday season when everyone is so damned happy and cheerful just either pisses you off or makes you more jaded about the whole issue.

As a young lad, I loved this time of year. I loved the candlelight service at church. I loved opening the one present (just one!) on Christmas Eve. I loved visiting Mom-Mom on Christmas Eve at the High Rise. I loved my cousins Johnny and Mike coming over to see who got what. I just loved nearly every aspect of Christmas and the season.

I guess as you get older and more jaded, things like Christmas become more about rushing around and trying to find a good gift, or you just lose all that and turn into a bitter hermit cursing at all the Salvation Army bell ringers outside the department stores. I think Christmas starts to lose some of its magic as you grow more weary from this world.

So, with Christmas losing the magic already, Marion is diagnosed with cancer the Monday after Thanksgiving. Looking forward into the next month at that time was very difficult. All those festive songs. All those happy people. All those kids too young to know any better that life will wear down on them...

I can listen to most Christmas songs. Songs about a deformed reindeer or a snowman or silver bells don't really bother me. But, one song, as hideous and as tedious as it is, disturbs me to the point of tears because of its message. "All I Want for Christmas is You" by Mariah Carey just makes me so sad. You may think to yourself, why. And to answer your question, I'm not too sure. Maybe I feel the loss of something that we'll never have again. Maybe it's because I really dislike Mariah's cat like screeching. Whatever the reason, the songs bothers me.

I went shopping alone for presents this year, and that bothered me too. Every Christmas since we've lived together (14 years), we went together and picked out presents for one another and family. To go alone was tremendously hard to do. A well meaning cashier commented on a sweater I bought for Marion by asking if it was for "my lady". I choked up a bit, and mumbled an affirmative. She saw I was kind of upset and said things will work out, whatever it may be. How do you even acknowledge that? I just muttered a thanks and went my way.

For some reason I was also obsessed with getting the TY Beanie Babies Peanuts characters, especially Woodstock (Marion's favorite). I went to Five Below where they were advertised and told they didn't have any. Again, I almost broke down. I hope I hid it better. I did finally track those down, by the way.

But, my point is around this time of year people are just so cheerful, and they don't want to be brought down with some serious issues like cancer and sickness or what have you. People want to eat their fruit cake, buy their presents, and wish you well. I know everyone is just trying to be good intentioned, but it just hurts to know what I do, and to be powerless against this disease. I know Marion has a really good chance, but I still just wish it was all a nightmare (a very lucid one) that I could wake from; I'd hug her and hold her tight and tell her everything was just a terrible dream. That's my Christmas wish, but I realize that it's just not the way things are.

If you don't know where you're going, any road will take you there.

I'm taking a break from my retrospective about my employment history for the time being. Oh, I'll probably write something tomorrow or so.

I've been pretty melancholy this holiday season due to Marion's condition, Ron being in the hospital, and still missing Mom during another Christmas season. My Mom loved Christmas and decorating for Christmas. I was talking with my Dad about it earlier this month. My Mom was a gifted artisan in a way. She made these drum ornaments for the tree one year. She must have made at least 300 if not more. I could only imagine the detail that went into crafting each one. I can only imagine the sense of accomplishment she must have had when she finished and had all those little drums on her tree.

I think I wrote previously that I've been in a funk since returning to New Jersey from Las Vegas back in early 2005. I haven't written (besides this blog and innocuous facebook postings) since my screenplay "Minimum Wage". I really think by the time I got to that particular screenplay, my writing for the film medium had developed quite nicely. Dialogue was coming more naturally. I was actually developing good plots, and I had unique ideas (as much as film can be unique). I often try to outline a new idea or two, but always seem to talk myself out of it. The last serious idea I had was writing a screenplay based on my Dad's bedtime serial stories, "Gitchy Gatchy Goomie". I think it would be an original story. Heck, any story about a kid that's dropped off on a deserted island to "toughen him up" is pretty original in my estimation.

Yet, I am faced with self doubt that it wouldn't lead anywhere when I know full well there's a chance that it could lead somewhere, but maybe I would rather live in a world of "ifs" and dream that I could have been the next Ethan Coen if I just sent my script away. Besides "Minimum Wage" I wrote two other screenplays I felt were pretty decent. "A.C.E. Atlantic City Expressway" and "Among Thieves". But, when I look at the files on my hard drive, and I read them, I just think they aren't good enough and no one would even find them at all appealing.

I live in a world of self doubt, I suppose. I'm crippled by it, and I just grow older by my inaction.

Regardless of my writing aspirations, this time of year always depresses me for any number of reasons. It should be a joyous time, and one filled with hope. I just see things the way they are. It's just another year that has passed me by. It's another year that I've bid farewell to friends and family. It's just another step closer to absolutely nothing. I realize that I'm not being filled with Christmas cheer here, but I'm engaged in a battle. I'm saddened about Marion's condition, and I feel so helpless. I'm not really helpless. I think it's just that powerless feeling that goes along with getting a diagnosis such as this. Even when the cancer is staged, and treatments begin, I think there will still be that hopelessness. I'm battling that because I hate self-defeating ideology. I'm just trying to stay strong.

Maybe it's time to start outlining another project.