Christmas has always been my favorite holiday of the year. But this year, for the first time in a very long time, the silence in my apartment is louder than the carols. Memory can be a double-edged sword during the holidays. In years past, my Christmas was defined by a specific, chaotic, beautiful noise. It was the sound of a "traditional" family celebration. It was a table groaning under the weight of a feast I helped prepare. It was the tearing of wrapping paper as we opened stockings, the clatter of dice on the table during our board game sessions, and the quiet, peaceful moments in between. Most of all, it was defined by the happiness on the faces of the people around me. I fed off that joy. It was my fuel. This year, the script has flipped. Following the dissolution of my marriage, I am spending Christmas alone. There is no feast to cook. There are no stockings to fill. The games are on the shelf. The silence is heavy, and the longing for that lost "normal" wei...
Nearly twenty years ago, I started a blog called The Path is Too Deep, a geeky reference to a rare computer error message. A great deal of life has happened since then, a life I would like to share. So, here again, are some random bits of unfiltered Chris.