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Today was nice. Quiet, just me and my mom and my brother. We do not do big Christmases anymore. And I like it that way.

I spend much of today thinking about Christmas four years ago, when I was a junior in high school. There were two significant things about that Christmas: one, we went to Miami that day, from Christmas until New Year's Eve. I really would like to do something like that again--Christmas somewhere warm. It's not like we have relatives we're obligated to see; nothing's keeping us at home on Christmas except not having planned anywhere else to go. I'd like to go somewhere.

The other thing was that that morning I broke up with Ben (yes, on Christmas, yes, I'm a bitch, yes I probably should have done it earlier... no, I couldn't do it later, he was leaving the day I got back). Probably not the best Christmas gift ever for him (if that mattered... he was Jewish). But probably the best Christmas gift I ever gave to myself. I hadn't felt so unburdened in years.

This means that today is exactly four years being single, and unorthodox as it is... I feel this is something to celebrate. Obviously, I would've rather that I weren't completely relationship-retarded the thing with Tony had worked out, but since it didn't? This means four years of not making the mistake of getting myself into commitments I didn't understand, and didn't understand the terms of, and didn't want to be in. Four years of not succumbing to doing something I didn't want to do on the vague notion that other people thought this was a good thing, and hoping I'd see the point once I figured it out. Four years of not wasting time feeling claustrophobic and wondering what the fun part of this was supposed to be. Four years of not trying to figure out all this weird relationship business from the inside, where there is enough reality to it to worry about getting it wrong. Four years of not getting all claustrophobic feeling locked in by dull grown-up stupid words like "date" and "boyfriend." Four years of being FREE.

Four years sounds like a decently long time. I managed to leave that part of my life behind me so fast, it would always startle me when I'd think about it and realize it had only been three years, or two, or one. At one year, it felt like a lifetime ago. And I didn't like those numbers; they were too small, they made it sound like a recent mistake and I wanted to distance myself from it as much as possible. Four years sounds convincingly like it really was an entirely different stage of my life, one where I was young and stupid and it has nothing to do with who I am now.

I am single and I have absolutely no intention of changing that. The chances of something coming my way that I would want to make an exception for are slim, and I am glad they are slim, and I wish I had never run across the one I did. I am not looking; I am not available. I don't ever want to fall in love again. I don't ever want to be attracted to anyone again. I don't ever want to get landed on a date again in my life, and I am proud of the fact that I've never been on a formal enough date that I realized it was a date at the time (it took me over a year to realize that if you're dating someone, anything you guys do together is a date. But I have never been on a date that's just a date, and I'm keeping it that way!). And I absolutely, absolutely, regardless of the well-meaning 'there are other fish in the sea' comments I get from people, do not want to find a replacement romantic interest to get over Tony. I just want to get over him and get on with my life, with my family and friends.

I look at couples, even ones that behave decently in public, and I just can't ever imagine myself being in their situation--I can't see myself holding hands with someone in a restaurant, or calling someone "baby," or saying the words "I have a date tonight," or worrying about bringing someone home to meet my parents, let alone something like having sex be real, part of normal everyday life. It has no appeal and trying to mentally put myself in that situation just seems wrong, wrong, wrong, in every way otherworldly and bizarre. I can't see myself leaving campus overnights to visit the SAME person EVERY single weekend. My brain skids around and my imagination totally fails me trying to create a concrete thought of someone I'd want to be in a relationship with out of distasteful abstract terms like "man" and "date" and "boyfriend." If I mentally put me and Tony in the picture instead of me and abstract-boyfriend-notion, some of it has appeal. Some of it seems less claustrophobic. Some of it even makes a little more sense, but not all of it. And almost none of it becomes anything I can see myself being comfortable with, just another part of life, trusting that this is how it is and it's not going to suddenly dissipate if I make one wrong move. It just doesn't seem like me, even under the one circumstance I can think of to make it desirable and not a sentence.

And it's now four years I've avoided getting stuck anywhere in that world anyway, and I am not going back!

*goes for more champagne*
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"In case de curse does not succeed, dis is me lucky stake. I have killed many vampires wit it. I call it Mr. Pointy."

I have certain too-cool-for-school biases that I am learning, slowly, to get over. They have caused me to deprive myself of too many of the wonderful things in life. Like Joss Whedon shows.

One of the unfortunate things that tends to happen to people when they discover Joss Whedon is that they get very, very excited and, regardless of whether or not they'd first mention Buffy or Firefly if someone merely asked them "What's the best television show ever made?", the moment they find out you haven't seen it they go completely evangelical berserk on you. Any militant nonconformist, like many of us styled ourselves in high school, have a knee-jerk bad reaction to this sort of enthusiasm. As such, I put off watching Firefly for a very long time. How was I supposed to know people were actually *right* about how awesome it is?

I had similar snobbery issues with Buffy, for many years. Got sick of people always bringing it up when someone mentioned vampires; developed a sort of "hexcuse me, I am busy reading Montague Summers here, I do not have time for the crappy 90s television version of this myth" *FLOUNCE* attitude. Also, highly biased against the recent development of vampires completely transforming their physical appearances to feed--in books, they look like what they look like. Any physical changes are limited to eyes flashing red (very old old demonic trait) or their fangs getting longer (logical, biting's sort of a big thing with vamps). When was the last time you read a book that was all "and then his eyes flashed red and his fangs grew longer, and his skin turned sort of green and his nose got all squished, and his forehead grew bigger..."? Yeah, didn't think so. Also, WTF sort of name is "Buffy"? Dumber than "Sookie," seriously.

And I still, actually, think the vampire makeup and the name "Buffy" are kind of dumb. But this is more than outweighed by the fact that the show is awesome.

Some people have compared Twilight to Buffy. Actually, no, that's not true. People have said that they'd ASSUMED Twilight would somehow compare to Buffy, but NOBODY with reading comprehension can draw more than superficial similarities. I mean, you can compare anything, and you can especially always compare one paranormal romance to another. You can compare True Blood to Twilight, and not just 'cos they're both popular. But they're nothing *like* each other. And Buffy really reminds me a lot more of True Blood, mostly in that the main character has a personality and is not so militantly emo-ly Outside Teh Shallow Cultural Mainsteam OMG Aren't I Better Than Everyone Else? I mean... seriously, I'm a Goth, I probably *have* more in common with Bella on the socially awkward not-going-to-school-dances end (and CERTAINLY did in high school!), but I really LIKE that Sookie and Buffy *aren't* dark and brooding. Sookie and Buffy are strong, with the occasional appreciation for being "girly," like wearing no pants, ever. Bella covers being a stereotypically weak female by being concerned with ~deeper things~ than girliness. MAN UP and LIGHTEN UP, Bells. This is almost making me want to go blonde.

The vampire boyfriends in all three stories are still dark and brooding; it's apparently necessary. (Only Edward is a CHRONICALLY PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE MANIPULATIVE CONTROLLING ARSEHOLE about it, though.) The Buffy/Angel thing did clear up part of what looked like inconsistency in Twilight for me, though (because OF COURSE it can't be Stephenie Meyer being inconsistent!), the whole bit where Edward was like BUT I CANNOT SHAG YOU, IT WILL BE FATAL but then does anyway and it doesn't kill her? It is not fatal because he will squish Bella with ~vampiric manliness~, it is because if he shags her, he will NOT BE EMO FOR TEN SECONDS, and this is the kiss of death for melodramatic vampire boyfriends of human chicks. IT ALL MAKES SENSE NOW.

The show also has a nice balance of vampire-related plot to other-paranormal-stuff plot, although as the show is progressing they're getting more and more interrelated to form a recognizable plot arc, which I guess is standard for most shows--more episodic at first, more cohesive as it progresses. But it stops the vampires from getting to be too much. And all the other weird shit they run into is just so much fun. (My favorite episode so far is still when Xander and some other kids get possessed by hyenas, partly because hyena-Xander has so much more class than normal Xander. Also they ate the principal. Which... made me hungry?)

I supposedly have to wait until school starts again to get season 3 from Simon, although I might have to find a way around that. Or I could chill out and read the next three Sookie Stackhouse books. I should probably do that. (And watch the Sopranos. Variety is good.)

In other news, the gym Mom joined is ridiculous. I'm very glad to have a gym to go to over break, since I always eat too much and spend most of the day reading/watching movies, for three weeks, which is bad. Paul has agreed to take me for an "advanced driving" lesson on Saturday, and I'll be taking a defensive driving course sometime this break, and then maybe we'll be able to start looking at replacing my car and having me actually be prepared to not crash it this time. (Have been trying to deal with the anger and embarrassment by looking at this as a learning experience. I have learned that sometimes I'm *not* just being a wimp when I'm not comfortable with something, that grown-ups aren't always right and copying them is not the way to learn things, and that some things are dangerous to learn by mucking about by yourself. Next, I'm going to learn to drive better.) It's almost Christmas: I love baking, I hate sappy Christmas music (Make cake, not love!). I am still being antisocial and haven't seen any of my friends since I got home. Hanging out with Mom is fun but if she's not around I'd rather it just be me and my mood swings. I never thought I'd write that sentence, ever. Crate & Barrel is selling those adorable half-size martini glasses they have at Moynihan's, and I am coveting them for post-Christmas shopping, even though I have a ridiculous number of martini glasses already (and all from Crate & Barrel). And that is about the most exciting stuff going on in my life right now. It's so good to be on break.

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