Santa, Baby

Santa Baby, 

I've been bad more often than I've been good since your last visit. I'm sure that stoolie, the Elf on the Shelf has already gleefully relayed all of that -- unkind thoughts, jealousy, resentment, quick-to-temper, selfish, blah, blah, mother-fucking blah. Oh, and cussing, too.

Here's the thing, Santa -- I'm not going to make excuses or even offer explanations. Bad behavior is bad behavior. Guilty as charged. I'm working on it.

Anyway.

Some of your minions -- the good toy-maker type elves, not the tattletale snitch elves -- have been asking what I want/need for Christmas. I am at a loss to answer. What do I want? I want more counter space.  I want a real vacation. I want the will to make the mundane seem sublime. I want acceptance for all people and marriage equality and the de-stigmatization of mental illness. I want to be beautiful and vital and strong. Oh, there is such a long list of things that I want!

If I try really hard to behave better, maybe next year Santa Baby, maybe next year you could slip some of that under my tree. I'll pass on this year completely if you think you could make that so, big guy.

Sincerely Trying,

Tam