YULENESS!

Christmas trees in the bathtub.

All snowy and shit.

Setting up the festive atmosphere with gingerbread houses and decorated trees.

Spreading some love to the cephalopods.

The goddamn dog is never looking at the camera when I am.

This is the reason I get up in the morning.

I love the holiday season. Christmas is my favorite holiday. I'm not really sure why, but I always loved the tree and the gifts and the all that shit. I remember being the kid who loved to decorate the tree, wrap presents, and, even though I never ever believed in Santa and was the kid who told other kids that Santa wasn't real, I loved unwrapping shit on Christmas morning, despite having already guessed the contents of the gifts. The consumerism isn't the point, it's the principle of the holiday: In the dead of winter, we give shit to other people to feel good/not kill ourselves because the SunGod has forsaken us. It doesn't matter what the gift is, it's the giving/receiving/interaction that matters.

I hate the Black Friday crowd and this year, they did not disappoint.

THANKS!

I feel a thing growing inside of me. I don't know what to think of it. It is there.

We had Thanksgiving and it totally ruled. Thankful for: children, wife, life, consciousness, dharma, prajna, the self that is no self and is emptiness, entertainment, ethanol, photons, The Lord God, all types of whole 'notha shit that can't be named here.

Last week we had game night and it was pretty cool with the social interaction and stuff, and today we had all the interaction there and it just kind of cements the idea that Homo sapiens is the ideal social creature and that, fuck it, we are engineered to give a fuck about each other, and that DNA mandates the idea that "No man is an island."

Fuck it, my Old Man died five years ago this month.

Hate You, Lifetime

This is how the History of Psych was really written.

I am almost finished with this behemoth of a paper, after which I will move on to some shit about ocean acidification and existential psychology. You know, I spent five years in the Marine Corps, and, at this point in my academic career, I have to say that cranking out papers on shit that I don't give two fucks about is isomorphic to running five miles in the cold after I drank too much on purpose because I hate my life.

The real thing about college is, I've found, it just wants you to think. It's like you pay X amount of money for someone to tell you to think, which is kind of why it's so absurd. I mean if you've never thought before, why would you think its a good idea to dole out the dough necessary to get told to think?

Now that the paper's mostly over, pass the wine!

Punkin

I think I have a thought, but really I should have a "thought'. The Buddha would have a field day with all of us.