South Carolina certainly loves Steve Spurrier!

In the times long before Christ and before Capitalism, there was a Yule festival. During the Yule festival, the men of the village would go out and cut down the biggest tree they could find and bring it to the village square, and start it burning. They did this on the Winter Solstice, and kept it going for 12 days, until the new year. During this festival, the people of the village would gather together for great feasts. They would sing, and dance, and give each other gifts. It was a celebration of spirit.

To be honest, I don’t know if that’s all true, of if I’ve just pieced together the better portions of a thousand different stories into something that sounds blissful in my mind. Maybe I remember it exactly as I’ve read it, or maybe I remember it as I want to believe it was. Either way, it sounds pretty nice to me.

I consider myself lucky to be surrounded by people — mostly family — who are not afraid to challenge conventional thinking and do things differently, and Christmas is no exception. Some of the people around me are non-religious, and non-traditional, and prefer not to participate in what they see as nothing more than a capitalism holiday. Some are traditional, and they don’t care about the history of the season, they only care about what it means to them: time spent with family. Some are very religious, and choose to focus on the story of Christ rather than on the story of Santa Claus. There are even some who have abolished the idea of Christmas altogether, professing that taking part in any way is entirely blasphemous to their faith. (Fortunately, those in the last group do not have kids!)

I don’t consider myself to be a big believer in tradition, and anyone who has read my web site knows I’m not terribly religious. But I consider it to be a benefit that I have people around me who are. I have heard numerous arguments for and against Christmas, and have been presented with many reasons and justifications and explanations and theories. If nothing else, it has given me a wealth of perspective in determining my own interpretation of the holiday.

For me, Christmas is a sentiment. It’s not a holiday, and it’s not a holy day. It’s a feeling, not a reason to shop. It’s bundling up in warm clothes, hearing happy music, seeing your breath, and thinking about others instead of myself. It’s snow, and gloves, and warm drinks, and fun gatherings, and National Lampoons Christmas Vacation.

I enjoy giving gifts, but I feel no obligation to do so. I give gifts to show my appreciation for the blessings I receive from those around me… not to prove my loyalty or sentiment. I put a lot of thoughts into my gifts, because I want to show that I have thought about the recipient. You can’t replace thought with dollars. No extravagance of price can make up for the lack of consideration.

I also enjoy receiving gifts, but I don’t ever expect them. Not from anyone. In the same way that I don’t give out of obligation, I don’t want to receive a gift out of perceived obligation. And your price tags won’t impress me… only the thought you put into showing me what I mean to you.

I’m not rich, but I am thankful to say that I can pretty much afford to buy whatever I want. And since I don’t have many wants, I generally do so. I like that, because it allows me to think about what really matters at the holidays. Giving, and receiving of gifts can be fun, and even sentimental, but what really matters is being with the people who really matter — and not just for one day.

After thousands of years, we still have Christmas trees and Yule logs. We still have 12 days of Christmas, leading into the new year. We still have gatherings and feasts and gifts. Sure, many of the details have changed — we now have Santa Clause, and Scrooge, and Trading Places — but the warm sentiment is still there.

I went to the midnight showing of I Am Legend on opening night and loved it. So much so, that I went and saw it again Saturday at the IMAX theater.

Will Smith has been one of the hottest actors in Hollywood lately, with everything he touches turning to gold, and there is no better actor in all of Hollywood to play the role of Robert Neville.

Will Smith is the only actor I can think of who has the ability to give heart-wrenching sincerity (Ali, The Pursuit of Happyness) while also possessing the ability to be the only actor on the screen for large portion of the film (Men In Black, I Robot).

The director deserves credit as well, for providing the angles and cuts that tell the story, but the truth is that Will Smith pulled off a last-man-on-earth portrayal that makes Tom Hanks in Castaway look like the amateur hack actor I think he is. If it weren’t for the SFX creatures in the movie, I think Smith would be a shoe in for an Oscar.

It was obvious to me that he put serious work into understanding the mind of a person who has been alone and looking over his shoulder for three years. He talks to mannequins, keeps detailed journals, and is meticulous about where every little thing belongs, even down to moving his coffee cup and glass of orange juice into their expected places.

In his most impressive scene, he gets no help from the cameramen, lighting crew, or director, and has to carry out the implicit action while selling the emotion using only his face… and he does it triumphantly. In a closeup shot with only his face, Smith manages to tell the audience every sad and painful thing he’s doing off screen, while revealing the torturous consequences it has on him.

Once you’ve seen it, you’ll know exactly what scene I’m referring to. Both times I’ve watched it, that audience let out a sigh of anguish at the end of the scene. Marvelous.

After 1,865 kickoffs in their 31 years as a franchise, the Buccaneers finally returned one for a touchdown on the same day that they clinched first place in the NFC South, beating the Atlanta Falcons 37-3.

I wish I could’ve seen it, but at least I got to see Brett Favre set a new all-time passing record, eclipsing Dan Marino. Favre’s name is now attached to every meaningful QB record in the NFL. Way to go, Brett.

Wow, I’m noticing a follow-your-dreams theme in my writing today.

I picked up this little book last night called It’s Not How Good You Are, It’s How Good You Want To Be, by Paul Arden, and read the entire thing on my train ride home.

Arden instructs readers to aim high, set lofty goals, and accept nothing less. He says to be who you want to be, instead of who you are: talk big, and make it happen. He talks about how to please your clients and earn their trust. Most importantly, he encourages you to take responsibility for yourself, and constantly push forward, rather than becoming complacent and settling for less than what you truly want.

The book is filled with zen-like truth that applies to today’s world. It’s straight to the point, and brutally honest. Some of the advice is obviously related to advertising and creative endeavors, but the wisdom in this book is universal. I’ll read this again and again.

“Every time we make a purchase that doesn’t have real meaning for us, we’ve added another bar to our prison cell.” — Trent Hamm

Yesterday, someone tried to get under my skin by throwing in my face that facts that I don’t own a car, that I don’t own my own home, and that I live in a bad neighborhood in a spare room with family. This person thought that would really hurt my feelings, but they couldn’t have been more wrong. If you think that bothers me, you don’t know me at all.

Fitting, then, that after this happened, I went home and opened Google Reader to find the latest post from Trent Hamm at The Simple Dollar, talking about what it all means:

That luxury car and that sweet house in the suburbs are balms. They’re like putting calamine lotion on a very bad case of the chicken pox – you might lessen the itch, but the itch is still there and it will keep coming back no matter how much lotion you put on it.

What is the itch? That itch is your dreams, what your soul tells you that you should be doing with your time. That itch is the dream that you’re not chasing so you can drive that Lexus on your dreaded morning commute. That itch is the time you spend at meetings when you’d rather be your son’s Little League coach. That itch is the realization that you’ve just sold your dreams for a house full of consumer goods that are gathering dust while you sit in a hotel room watching sports on basic cable after a business meeting wondering what has happened to your life.

Exactamundo. Money comes and money goes, but time is in limited supply — once it’s gone you can’t get it back. I’m chasing my dreams, and they’re bigger than some mortgage or car payment. To quote Trent one more time, every time we make a purchase that doesn’t have real meaning for us, we’ve added another bar to our prison cell.