Clearly very into the Christmas spirit.

So it's probably obvious that this week I set a mini-goal for myself to blog every day, even if I had nothing to say, even if the words that spilled out of my fingers are sure to embarrass me one hour from the time I publish them and then every hour after FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE. And then they will outlive me to embarrass all of my progeny.

But isn't that what blogging's all about?

Who still hasn't done the bulk of her Christmas shopping? ME! Who was just sitting here trying to convince herself that watching Project Runway in her pajamas tonight is MUCH MORE important than doing any Christmas shopping? ME! Who is easily convinced by her own very illogical logical arguments? ME!

Also, I still have tomorrow and Friday. Geeze. Okay, maybe Friday would be a bad idea. Tomorrow. Definitely tomorrow. As long as some Cold Stone banana ice cream is also involved. It takes huge incentives for me to get my ass to the mall these days. Those people, they are mean. Also, crazy. And, you know, some are all merry and crap.

I probably fit at least one of those adjectives, and I'm pretty sure it's not the last one.

Blogging is clearly also all about talking myself through my silly bourgeois problems.

Speaking of silly bourgeois problems, I thought the point of today's entry would be to share a Hemingway quote I read yesterday that, gender-exclusive language notwithstanding, is really quite intriguing.

"Who the hell should care about saving his soul when it is a man's duty to lose it intelligently, the way you would sell a position you were defending, if you could not hold it, as expensively as possible, trying to make it the most expensive position that was ever sold. It isn't hard to die."

Here's to dying! And to selling our souls! And to Christmas.