So it's Christmas time again. I just completed my Christmas list for Santa Claus.... wait... maybe I should explain myself.

I've been thinking a lot lately. And the more I think about things, the more I don't like them. On the surface, my life is going pretty well. I'm doing okay at school. I've got a good job now (Well... as good as you can get without a degree). Things are okay.

But then again, they aren't.

I don't know why. I've been in this deep funk lately. Nothing really gets me excited. Nothing really makes me happy. As I'm writing this, there's a party going on downstairs for this film company I work for. Friends and colleagues alike are having a great time, getting drunk, watching movies, talking, vomiting off of the front porch, etc. And I'm up here.... Alone... on the computer.

I can't really explain my anti-social behavior. As far as being in a social climate, I don't handle myself very well. By reading this website you'd probably think I was a very outgoing and whacky guy (Or in need of psychiatric counseling). The truth is... I'm completely introverted. I keep to myself a lot.

Maybe it's an insecurity issue. I figure, if I'm alone and I fuck up, the only person who can laugh at me is myself. When I get around a large crowd of people I get really nervous, and when I get nervous I starting talking, and when I start talking I can't stop. I usually end up rambling like an idiot with no clear ending on the way. Next thing you know, the party goers are spiking their Kool-Aid Cockbusters (It's a real drink... look it up sometime) with cyanide, trying to find an escape from my incessant meandering.

But I've found a way to beat this horrible disorder. I've found a truly miraculous and wonderful cure.

Regression.

Now most of you are thinking of that procedure where they hypnotize you, and make you remember when you were four years old and then they have you show them where your father used to touch you and whatnot. Well, I'm not talking about that. For one, I know where my father touched me (And as far as I know, there are some pictures circling the internet that prove so). I'm talking about regression in the sense that I am going to do my damnedest to become a small child again.

Think about it. When you were a small child, what did you worry about?

Are my favorite cartoons on?

Are we almost out of Coco-Pops?

Is daddy going to hurt me again?

Wait... scratch that last one. Anyway, my point is that when we were children, we didn't have a CARE in the world. All we wanted was to grow up and become a fireman (Or if you are a woman, a firelady). If we had only known.

We squandered our youths. If we had truly known how horrible growing up was going to be, we would've spent every waking minute living our childhood's to the fullest. And my biggest regret is that I didn't. And when it's gone... It's gone. You can't get it back, no matter how much you like it.

So I'm taking steps to reimagine my childhood. And what better season to start this sort of thing than Christmas? Hell yeah!

So all I have to figure out is what else I can do with my life to make myself feel like a kid again.

And I also have to figure out what I'm going to do with "A Kajillion bajillion Mighty Morphin Power Ranger figures."