Kill Me, Kiss Me, Feed Me to a Cow
One of my favorite aspects of South Park is when they animate a scene of angry people gathered into a crowd. Instead of giving the voice actors lines to shout over each other, everyone just screams, "Rabble, rabble, rabble, rabble!" over and over.
That's a bit what it's like in my head tonight, with a bunch of emotions elbowing one another for more room and making ever so much noise. In just the past few days, I have been: livid to the point of tears, worried, sad, giddy, guilt-ridden, ecstatic, and mischievous, just to name a few. At one point, my subconscious decided that the best solution was to drown the impending madness in true Hollywood style; before I knew it, I was looking up flasks on Etsy and trying to determine what sort of alcohol to buy online. (I'm sorry to report that I didn't make any purchases. 2011 will not be the year of the Drunkskirts.)
I suppose that's the nature of the Christmas season sometimes. Hectic, harried, bustling, dizzying. So I'm going to curl up with a crossword puzzle, some hot tea, and a purring kitty in a valiant attempt to find a little peace in the eye of the hurricane. I suggest you do the same.