The surgery went well. It was a reasonably minor outpatient procedure. Blah blah blah benign polyp in the sinus. I woke up with a sore throat from the "standard procedure" breathing tube, nauseous from all the blood I swallowed, and the-inability-to-keep-my-eyes-open-in-spite-of-the-fact-that-I-was-mentally-all-there-almost-immediately-upon-waking. Apparently I'm more resistant to anesthesia than I thought. I'm probably an expensive drunk, too.
Normally I hate hospitals, but this one was unusually empty. Of imaginary things, that is. Imaginaries take many forms. Most are shaped by human expectation. Pixies, gnomes, the immortal menace that is the Loch Ness Monster to name a few (eat that cryptozoologists!). Some are more primal, formed unconsciously of feeling rather than legend. Hospitals are usually just crawling with such beasties. People have fears and worries and hopes among other more complex feelings which make strange creatures. Negative emotions make nightmarish things come to life and the more positive end of the spectrum brings forth what is best described as cute and cuddly. Of course the former often eat the latter, especially when hope is weak, and they're not too common to begin with in such places. One of my imaginary associates calls the negative ones Nervosa. (I assume it's a nod to psychological disorder names.) They're generally not fun to deal with. Sometimes they become strong enough that they can directly affect the ones who helped form them. On one occasion, I had to help get rid of a particularly nasty one who stalked the wards of a childrens' hospital not too far from my university. The Nervosa in question took the form of a doctor ripped from the collective dreamscapes of King, Barker, and Lovecraft. He was made of and fed off of the fears of mostly surgery patients. But that is another story (though it is a thrilling one.)
Anywhat, this hospital was strangely free of Nervosa. I noticed three relatively minor ones in the waiting room and none beyond. It was rather pleasant. The hospital has a good track record, so maybe its reputation has other benefits. The way she was looking around, I think my mom noticed the fact too. But my dad didn't. Strange, since he noticed the gremlins back at Thanksgiving. (Side note: Are they both something other?) So yeah, blessedly free of scary things.
Recovery was reasonably smooth and the ability to breathe through my nose for the first time in a year was quite pleasant. That wasn't the best thing I got for Christmas, though. My family gave me some books (glorious books!) and I had the pleasure of giving them each a handmade gift blessed with a minor protection charm. My best gift, however, came on Christmas Eve night. Ever since my first encounter with the Jolly Old Immigrant I've been making sure to leave milk and cookies (and to make sure they're the good stuff) out. We've had a few random encounters outside the Season of Giving and have a friendly acquaintanceship going. Incidentally, it turns out Santa Claus does a whole lot more for the world than we give him credit for. Him and a mysterious gentleman with a strange thorny circlet. (Again, another time.) Anyway, he shows up, we enjoy a brief chat over the snacks, I give him a thank you gift and go to bed, he leaves presents, Christmas morning, rinse, (maim), repeat. This year, when I gave him his present (after all, a little gratitude is never a bad idea) he handed me one of his own. I kind of felt bad. I had given him a little handmade snowglobe which depicted the first time we met, but he gave me something way more awesome. It was a crystal tree topper actually made out of a star! I mean, he had actually gone through the trouble of plucking a shooting star out of the sky and refining it for me! I put it on top of our tree immediately (our old star had been retired this year). He also included a little bottle of starlight. "A little light," he said, "Is never out of place. Plus it doesn't run out of batteries." With that, we parted ways and went to go fulfill our Christmas Eve duties. For what it's worth, my family wasn't all that surprised about the new star (though they did think it was pretty), so I have to wonder if they saw it for what it really was. (But again, what are they descended of?)
The last major happening was something that occurs every year: New Years. Every year, people use the start of a new year to make resolutions and forge a new path for themselves. "Out with the old! In with the New!" as they say. Anyone with the eyes to see can see at the stroke of midnight wherever they are a sort of Cosmic Skin Shedding. The imaginary objects and markings people collect over the course of the year simply slough off, if only for a little while. Sometimes the ephemera dissolves into nothing an sometimes it soon enough reattaches itself. More than that, though, the collective resolution to change and become better, sincere or otherwise, actually makes the world around us shed much of the emotional and imaginary imprint we drop on it like litter over the year. Sometimes only for a while before things return to normal, sometimes permanently.
There's not really much else interesting. You see, with the exception of the odd gremlin or other critter, I'm not particularly involved in the preternatural going-on of my hometown. I arrived in time to go off to school and get involved there. It's kind of nice though. Christmas break is like a vacation.
Summer can be like solitary.
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