Thanksgiving this year was highly uneventful; almost a non-event. Mom, Dad and I went over to my brother and sister-in-law's house. The boys were with their Dad, which was fine for a couple of reasons, explained below. Dinner was basically a buffet of appetizers. Sliced ham, boiled and peeled shrimp, deviled eggs, lil smokies in bbq sauce and a corn dip.

Yeah. Bro planned the spread and was proud as a peacock over it.

No, he's not 12. Honest.

In all honesty, Tgiving has never really been a big deal for my family. X's family, on the other hand, goes all out, with Tgiving being the biggest holiday of the year for them. For every Tgiving the boys have had, they've always been with their Mamaw and Papaw, doing the whole big blow out - turkey, ham, stuffing, the works. I didn't want them to miss that just because it was a family togetherness type of holiday.

Another reason it was fine with me was because I desperately needed the time away from them. I was craving some alone time, and what better time to get that? I took the boys to their Mamaw and Papaw on Weds afternoon. That gave me until Sunday to do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted and it was pure heaven. It was a great way for me to pre-charge my batteries for the upcoming December busy-ness.

My Dad's birthday and my parent's anniversary (their 43rd this year! Go Mom and Dad!) fall in December. Add in Christmas bustle and obligations, along with traveling friends and family stopping in for visits and it gets downright busy in December for me.

The most important reason tho for my complete willingness to let the boys be away from me on Tgiving is simple ... it means I get them on Christmas. *big ol' grin*

Yep yep, I get them, and it has been this way since the first year X and I separated. We agreed that the boys needed to be in their own beds Christmas Eve and wake up to their presents under their own tree. Kimo still believes in Santa and was worried that Santa would pass him by if he wasn't snug in his bed with visions of sugarplums dancing in his head. Gomez recently gave up his belief in Santa, the person. He understands the whole It's in your heart concept, but last year, while he had his suspicions, he was unable to totally give up. And that was fine. I wasn't out to blow that how childish wonder out of the water.

So the agreement we came to several years ago was that the boys would go to their Dad's the afternoon their Christmas break from school began and would stay there - celebrating Christmas on Christmas Eve morning with their Dad and grandparents (as they've done all their lives) - then they'll come back to me Christmas Eve afternoon. Then we'll go to Mom and Dad's for a little family get together, come home, wake up Christmas morning and do our Christmas stuff here before heading back to Mom and Dad's to open presents out there and have Christmas lunch with my side of the family. After lunch everyone heads home to take much needed naps. LOL

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The following was my submission to my Tribe for this week's IC. It's not the one that our tribe went with, which was cool with me, afterall it's bound to ruffle several feathers.

I've wrestled back and forth with the idea of posting this. I finally figured out that dammit, it's my diary and these are my feelings and if I start censoring myself in my diary then what have I accomplished?

Granted, because of the IC there are some $5 words in here that I'd never use, but the feelings behind the statements are 100% pure Bisa.

Anyway, here it is, for what it's worth:

This week's IC has put me in a very melanite type of mood, to say the least.

No, I take that back. It's more accurate to say that this year's Diaryland Survivor has definitely had a desultory feel to it.

It's obvious to me, just from observations and conversations, that interest in the game has nose-dived and I suspect the main reason for this is the fact that there are Tribes this year.

Let's face it, with Tribes it means that each week instead of multiple entries for the "viewers" to read and get hooked by, they get two entries to read and that's it. Not much variety there for them. Last year when I was a zygote in the Dland Survivor fan club I discovered several new diaries along the way and am still reading a few of them one year later. Not gonna happen this year, is it?

It shortchanges every tribe member but two - those two who host that week's particular challenge - of having their own words in their own styles read and enjoyed. Also, because of time constraints and the valiant but quixotic attempts at scheduling meetings to discuss, plan and strategize, I believe it's leaving a "what-the-fuck-ever, do what ya'll want" attitude among some of the players. It's stifling, to say the least, when, while trying to mesh with other tribe members, your own voice and creativity gets squashed. Granted, this is because the stronger, faster writers, especially those who are more prone to writing narratives and stories, have risen to the top. Any tribe member would be stupid not to go with such strength for the good of the tribe. That doesn't make it any easier to swallow however. Ego? Maybe, but I mean let's face it, all the contestants entered for either recognition, fun or the challenge. None of which are happening.

It's becoming more and more difficult to find the fun in this year's competition. This IC is the perfect example. Last year there was a similar one, well, ok the only similarity is that the survivors were given a list of words to use. Theirs was so cool. The IC wasn't announced on the DS4 site, it was kept hidden. The survivors were to write an entry in their own style, but incorporate a certain number of theme related words into their entries. They weren't to call attention to the fact that the entry was an IC, but rather to try to make it as indistinguishable as possible from their normal entries. This let the readers go on a scavenger type hunt, trying to figure out the theme. See how that pulled the readers in?

Hell, even the nay-sayers who couldn't wait to drag the contestants to their own private gallow have lost interest. That susurration you hear isn't gossip, it's snoring.

I don't know, instead of waiting until we're down to 6 survivors perhaps we can finagle a quicker merge from the judges/hostesses; hopefully before we castaways resign ourselves to leaping on the literary sword and driving it through our collective sternum to escape the death house crackle which is ringing loudly in our ears.

Until next time~
bisa

To thine own self be true

Words and Images � bisa-pet