Christmas, comics and crab rangoons... (not in that order)

Happy Monday...it is a rare Monday off for this post-grad, and after some Chinese food delivery, a little Love Actually and a fear of the 15 degree reading on the online thermostat, I've retreated to my bed for a bit of pondering.
"Christmas is all around..." Yesterday, Sunday- it was the first long-lasting snow of the season. A constant flurry whipped around landing anywhere but the ground for the better part of the morning. A setting fit for a slow walk through Cambridge, from Central to Harvard Sq, on a mission for crepes, gifts, and shared memories. There are certain elements of my life that have shifted instantly from one step to the next, "MTV editing" as my old film professor coined for the type of editing that is quick and unforgiving. The acquisition of bills. the compounding responsibility of scheduling your own classes, doctor's appointments...life. But there are other, far more abstract elements that change slowly as my life moves onward. My appreciation for the holidays is one of those tracking-shot type changes.
Each year I wake up on the brighter side of early- the morning after Thanksgiving- and head out to the Christmas Tree Farm for a little do-it-yourself pine cutting. We drag the tree three agonizing quarters of a mile back to the van, place it in the tree vibrator, freeing the dead needles from the ride home strapped to the hood of the Odyssey. Christmas music ensues and a day of tree lighting and ordainment hanging is upon us. As a middle "too cool for" schooler - this was a day I'd much rather spend on the sledding hill, or in the middle of an epic clash between aged high schoolers and us of youth on the snow ball battlefield. Not understanding the importance this day had on my poor mother, waiting for me to grow up and not only appease her, but truly appreciate that which the holidays have always provided...tradition, shared experience, appreciation for a year of work, and damn good cookies.
Well this year, the morning after Thanksgiving left me dozing on a train, city-bound for a day of work. No complaints there...just...not tradition. I didn't think much of it until I was in the middle of bringing home my first, very own Christmas tree. Now, a Christmas tree is never just one's own. It is my girlfriend's, my roommate's, her boyfriend's, and everyone else's who comes by between now and when we all head to our homes, for a taste of aged tradition. But until then...we're making it up as we go along, and I could not have asked for anything more. After yesterday's snowy adventure, there were cookies, there was music, icing, decorating, laughing, crashing on the couch for Christmas movies...new tradition.
I haven't seen any new films in the past week, or done much reading, though I have made a serious dent in The Watchman. It's my second tour through Alan Moore's earth shattering 1985 graphic novel. An old boss/current friend of mine is itching to borrow it, so I must make my way in haste. The piece has been optioned for a film, and is due for release in March, Moore has completely removed himself from the project. Avid readers of this blog may remember a thesis I wrote (and often reflected on here) regarding the philosophy of film. It was a concept that I explored, attempting to pinpoint the importance of film in the development of our subjective reality. In the spirit of my own past studies, I am having a hard time accepting the film as something valid, seeing as its source's creater has declaired that his novel could not be reproduced in any other medium. Regardless, The Watchman is about to impact a whole new audience...though the orginal commentary on mid 1980's global politics, the essence of the super hero and the eternal question "Who Watches Thw Watchmen?" will most likely be lost behind 300-esque effects. Bitter? Not in the least...I'll be first in line, March 8th - midnight. See you there.