Who would have known that a pair of Rockport could be uncomfortable! Nevermind that I was on my feet 11 hours, waiting on people who, for whatever reason, decided that this was the weekend they wanted Mexican food and stuff you can only get at Gap and JC Penney.

Why do people want to shop for Christmas, all at once? Wouldn’t it make more sense for shopping malls to *assign* a time to people when they could come and do all their shopping? Then there wouldn’t be a mad crush of people — literally mad and figuratively mad.

Of all the things I don’t understand about the Human Race, it’s a drive to rat-pack it to the mall and be herded around by a security guard on a powertrip with a stungun. Doesn’t it make more sense to say, shop at little boutiques and other places where they would actually *care* that you’re giving them business?

That’s the challenge this Christmas Season: Don’t go to the mall. Instead, find what you want at either a local store and pay the extra four percent (that’s the price differential these days), or worst-case, only go to free-standing chain stores. Avoid Mega-Super-Conglomo-Mall.

See you at the food court.

I love deadlines — especially that glorious wooshing sound they make as they go flying by. Unfortunately, I missed the deadline on a paper I’m writing concerning sexuality in Romeo and Juliet, specifically the presentations of Juliet’s sexuality presented in the play by various characters. Ironic really, the concept of sexuality and deadlines are so similar.

Things have to start at a certain age to be finished by a certain age. It’s the same with projects. If you don’t *begin* a project in time, then the deadline will pass long before you have a chance to complete the project. I’m not sure how it’s going to work out — The R&J deadline, not my sexuality. (That’s done been and gone. I’m convinced I’m never getting laid again.)

Why deadlines? Don’t misunderstand me. I know why we have dates by which projects must be completed. But why do we call it a DEADline, as if the fear of not getting paid, not getting published, getting a bad grade isn’t enough to get our creative juices scared into flowing. No, we have to tack to the concept an appeal to the most basic of human emotions: fear of death.

Today, I’m going to protest. No longer will I suffer under the burden of fear. I will stand my ground against the deadline. Instead, I’ll call it a LIVEline. Instead of a point-of-no-return, it will be a date that — if you succeed in reaching your goal by it, you get to celebrate!

I invite you all to stand with me and fight the oppression of — hello, yes. OH! I ALMOST FORGOT IT’S THE FIRST!