Oct. 07, 2003 @ 6:30 p.m.

Life is yet again taking turns a little too fast around the mountain side, with snow flakes falling and my second heart passively sitting in the passenger seat with no safety belt or regard for listening to any advice ever given, much less heeding any parts of it. I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, leaving me left with a mouthful of everything but my own foot. My financial counselor said to me today, “Can you believe it’s only five weeks until Thanksgiving?” As overjoyed as I was, I only managed to stutter back a small “Wow.” The leaves have mostly all fallen, like my freedom, as they both blow briskly and bashfullessly away like rolling tears down a small child’s cheek. As romantic as I am with life and words, there isn’t an exact smell that comes to mind at this time of year like most people can say. Mainly, memories flood my head, as randomly as the little white lottery balls that fly up the shaft only to settle and get called upon with exclamation and excitement, just as if the number printed on that ball has the complete potential to turn someone’s life around. When I think of Christmas, I think of how I’m usually alone, like most of my holidays have been, dressed up warmly and out in the winter Texas sun, enjoying my break with freedom and relaxation. This will be my second year to be in Denver on actual Christmas. I can only wonder if this year will be as grand as the last? It certainly has the potential. I could see that happening. Actually, when I look back and think about it, Christmas is usually a really good time for me. I think the most memorable of them all, and forever probably will rank highly among the tops of Christmas’ past, was Christmas 1998. (OMG! That sounds so long ago!) I had just met Erin after Tim had introduced me to her at a party of his up in Houston. She happened to be in Lake Jackson a few days later for Christmas visiting her grandparents, who ironically lived right down the street from me. (This is where I had sound effects, Zazoo from the Lion King would roar in with “It’s a small world after all!”) She was my first crush, my first kiss, and my first heartbreak. I remembr sitting around all day on Christmas Eve and Day, waiting for the phone to ring. I remember thinking and totally believing that it never would. Every time the phone rang, I’d leap in a single bound, out of my room, through the door and into the hallway where I would stand still, heart beating, socks slipping on the tile, waiting for my mother to yell, “CHRIS! It’s for you!” Finally, she did. I played it off as if I hadn’t noticed the time passing by, playing it cool, and being all macho man, as if I couldn’t have ever liked a girl like Erin. She invited me over to the house where I had one of the most awkward moments of my life with her grandfather. He shook my hand and held onto it for a good solid 3 minutes as we talked. I looked at Erin, at her father, at her mother, and sisters, with none of them giving me any kind of hint as to how to get my hand’s freedom back without pretending to be a ninja for a few seconds. The idea of chop kicking him and throwing him over my shoulder into the kitchen stove, rattling pots and pans sounded kind of cool but he did weigh a good couple hundred. This guy sure had a death grip for an old man! Later I realized he was sizing me up and even later I realized that sizing never needed to happen. We sat on the couch, watching TV and enjoying the fire that had no earthly right burning in south central Texas, but now I think it was just there for a good memory. We shared peachie-O’s and stories, talking and getting to know each other. I was nervous. She was cute. I can see remember exactly what she was wearing. I remember hugging her goodnight and I can still remember how good that felt. Two days later I was back in Houston, receiving my first kiss ever, from her, out in the rain, underneath a staircase that I could never return to even if I wanted. I had on my black hoodie, the one I adorn as I sit here now typing. I had wanted it to be special and even though I worked hard to make it so, I got what I wanted. Pushing past another hug and soft kiss, fast forward to New Years Eve 1999. I swore if I ever heard “Party Like it’s 1999!” by Prince again I was going to track him down like a world class hunter, stab him in the face and gut him like a fish. I ended up kissing her again that night, taking her to dinner the next day to a horrible Chinese place and over that dinner she broke my heart. Who said I fall for girls too fast? Haha! I was told that I “wanted something different” than she and it turned out that I never saw her again. That sounds like a horrible memory when I type it out! Ahhhhhhh. I did a regular journal entry. Eek. Since then I’ve had a few more first kisses, each just as special. I’m sure things will continue to go on, being firsts and creating good memories that are fun to look back on and keep to myself. Someday it’ll get to the point where I can’t share these stories cause my wife (I STILL SAY I’M NOT GETTING MARRIED!) will get a little jealous and we don’t need any of that now do we? There are lots of memories I’d like to make but I’ve become a believer in memories making themselves with just enough of a shove. I’m slightly excited to see what this year yields. I could go on and on but I think I’ll end this here and get back to my normal, “What the hell is he talking about?” styled entries. <3