Sophomoric vs. The Giggle Monster, or How I Found My Christmas Spirit

It's been a long while since I've been able to feel anything that fed my soul.  I wasn't even going to do Christmas this year.  My plan was to sit in a dark room, muttering "BAH, Humbug!"  But then a bunch of in-law family decided to come visit, and blammo, I'm back.  Inspired.  Excited.  This house will be decorated like never before!

But it's been a frenzy of less-than-joyful activity.  I play my Christmas music, and feel ... nothing.  I look at the pretty lights and feel ... nothing.  No joy.  Just dark and sad and lonely.

Last night I saw a movie on TV, one of those sappy holiday special movies that you don't plan to watch but you get caught up in and just can't seem to stop...

This movie was SO inspirational to me.  It was about a woman who has a horribly bleak life, no joy in it, no loving relationships, who alienates and is mean to everybody around her.  She gets conked on the head, and starts seeing this little girl who won't go away.  Lo and behold, it's HER, at age 7, her own girly self, her inner child turned outer.  "Like a belly button", she says in the movie, "Used to be an inny, now I'm an outy.  And I won't go away until you start to listen to me."

It was so well-done, I was so moved by this silly sappy movie, that it's still alive in my head this morning.  The little girl held all the joy.  She still had fresh eyes to see Christmas, and found enjoyment in little things like snow falling and music and being silly. And she's tired of being repressed and judged.

Little by little, the woman comes to listen to the child, and comes to love her, and by the end, of course, they blend again, become one again.  And when the woman dances for joy, we see the little girl there shining out of her eyes.

I've been in danger of losing my little girl, my joyful little child, in all the sorrow and the grieving.  I have to bring her forward again.  She is my joy, she is my heartfulness of the season. 

She's not far though.  I feel her poking her head out sometimes when I write on my other blog.  I write to make myself laugh, to keep myself interested in something.  But not everybody gets me, I know.  Some woman commented on her blog about my Jingle Balls post, calling my humor sophomoric.  I had to look up sophomoric:  "Exhibiting great immaturity and lack of judgment: sophomoric behavior'". 

Huh.  Yeah.  Can't argue with that.

I left her a comment saying I don't mind, I'm proud to be sophomoric and infantile.  But I lied, it did hurt my feelings.  The more I thought about it, the more it hurt.  Part of the problem with bringing my inner children to the surface is how easily hurt they are. 

I cried a little, and then ... I heard a giggling.  A chanting, "nanny nanny poo poo, you are a weiner too" followed by wild raucous giggling.  I remembered when my brother and I were little we used to go into fits of giggles at "potty humor". 

Sure, it's sophomoric.  And infantile.  But if I don't indulge my little girl now, there may not be much more chance to.  Life is short.  And inner children have been known to die from neglect. 

So, to that woman who doesn't appreciate my sense of humor: "NANNY NANNY POO POO, YOU ARE A WEINER TOO!"

Now I'm gonna go decorate something, and sing Jingle Balls at the top of my lungs.  So there.

Comments

[Nancy]

Christine, this is wonderful! Thank you for your sophomoric reminder. I, too, had lost that little girl for a while and your post has gone a long way in helping that spirit...that magic come forth again. :) Another reason why your blog feeds my soul, too. Happy Holidays!

[Cin]

You made me laugh while drinking. Now I have to post this, spelling errors and all, so I cna go get a cloth and wipe up the screen.

Brat.

[David]

Yeh. What y'all said.

;-)

And I'm still planning on making some "Jingle Balls"—and if I locate (via Technoratti or whatever) the blog of the gal that has no worthwhile sense of humor, I may just blog the experience and send her a link...

heh

"It is unpardonable conceit not to laugh at your own jokes. Joking is undignified; that is why it is so good for one's soul. Do not fancy you can be a detached wit and avoid being a buffoon; you cannot. If you are the Court Jester you must be the Court Fool." G.K. Chesterton

Yeh. What he said, too.