Christmas happened.

Christmas is a strange ritual, which I've seldom felt in the thick of. It's never been my party, so to speak. As I look quizzically in from the skirting boards I have to wonder at a celebration that essentially marks out an infant for ritual sacrifice preceded by nice long bout of bloody torture. But lets be honest here, I want in. I wanna play too, because despite the fact that its a stolen pagan ritual celebrated by a bunch of repressed, stuck up prats who think they're better because some poor sod apparently died bloodily and painfully to make their lives slightly more viable, it also happens to be a party to which I want to be invited. Food and presents, when you strip all the other bullshit away, are cool. Bring on the secularization and at least moderate commercialisation of Christmas say I!

This strange relationship with the (possibly?) most celebrated and most certainly inaccurate birthday in western history started when I was a young tyke belonging to the undisputed black sheep of the family. I seem to remember quite a few rather disquieting drunken conflicts, about many things I did not quite understand. I also knew Father Christmas wasn't real. Which isn't fair. I knew this because A: his beard was made from a roll of cotton wool (seriously, how thick do you really think your kids are!?) and B: because I sort of knew my presents came from the Father Christmas belonging to aunts and uncles, there were just too many clues. So yes, Christmas is something to which I am invited. And in all honesty, if I ever decide to make a Christmas party happen, it would probably be a little different. For one thing, next year, in a project to start making Christmas my own, I'm going to have a tree. Yips, a shiny verdant Christmas tree. There will be metallic gold and red pterodactyls decorating it, possibly itty bitty Daleks too. I may have some planets, a teapot, and other paraphernalia if others get their way. I'm quite looking forward to it. This year was good though. I went to two rather differing celebrations, and nobody asked me to pray at either. In fact, one included quite a few descriptions of bizarre animal penises and accompanying mating rituals. I approved of this. The other was decidedly more staid, being a family affair, it was sweet, warm and welcoming, and I felt awkward but content, which as I understand these things, is pretty good going. Especially considering I'm trying to settle into a new city, replete with new job, flat and fairly new boy-person. (When are they no longer new? Is there a cut off point? An official transition period between 'new' and 'longstanding'?)

It is now 2012 (there was also this thing called New Years Day, which I always feel should be denoted by more ceremony, and consistently fail to address this matter, surely it would be an excellent choice for a secular/atheist day?) and life goes on. I hope I figure out some of these mysterious human rituals that so allude me, the corporate culture currently being the most pressing. Maybe I'll study something completely unnecessary. I also intend on making lots of art, just as soon as I have some acceptable surface to work on. For now though, I have an inadequate doodle...