In lieu of crafting an insightful blog, I've spent the evening attempting to fashion a Christmas "tree" out of stuff from my apartment. I regret to report attempts have been unsuccessful.

So far, I have shredded a good deal of styrofoam (it kind of looks like snow ... but only kind of), hurt my finger and broken a kitchen knife.

I just want to buy a tree. Actually, I want to buy a tree the way they do in the movies (or commercials), where everything is perfect and snowing and I'm with someone who loves me and gives me diamonds.

It doesn't seem to matter that I'm not sure I approve of Christmas tree farming because of environmental concerns, and I wouldn't want diamonds because diamond mining practices are so abhorrent, and I don't think I should need a man or a holiday to make me feel complete.

I want it anyway.

** UPDATE **

My dad came through town today and declared my Christmas tree project "pure suck." He wasn't being mean; it's true.

He also said it's a lesson that sometimes being creative just does not work out, even when you have good ideas along the way (like "planting" the tree in a bucket full of toys, which I did).

So we just got back from K-Mart, where Dad bought me a half-price tree, Mucinex and some drinking glasses that I liked. They're not diamonds, but they are sparkly.

In a way, I got exactly what I wanted: a pretty tree, a nice time with someone who loves me, and something shiny. Merry Christmas.