Santa Claus is real
When I was a young white child growing up in Mesa, Arizona, I lived in a world where I whole-heartedly believed magic was real. The moment I became a believer was at age 4 when I saw a copy of Putt-Putt Saves the Zoo at the foot of my stocking on Christmas morning. How is that even possible? I only typed out the request in a letter to Santa on a website my mom pulled up. I didn't even show it to ANYONE before printing it and putting in the envelope for my mom to mail off to the North Pole. That shit was between me and Santa.
I remember seeing on the news one Christmas Eve night a graphic of all the places in the world that Santa had already visited. I would stare out the window for halves of hours looking up in the night sky, silently sitting, seeking Santa. Saw some planes, but never did find that red-suited son of a bitch. Let me tell you, it was my mom who actually bought my Humongous Entertainment's Putt-Putt Saves the Zoo that I received that beautiful morning. But I wouldn't find out until much later on in my journey, around age 7.
My older brother was the one that told me Santa wasn't real. That it was really my mom engaging in an advanced conspiracy with the news in order to fool me into thinking that reindeer could fly. I couldn't believe it- I had called my mom right away and confronted that lying hag.
It turns out it was the truth. My whole world was reshaped in an instant. I would go on to find out that the Easter bunny, tooth fairy, and WWF is fake. The neighbors weren't actually vampires, and Rosie O'Donnell taped her show in New York, and not on Neptune. I couldn't believe the utter bullshit. What's next? Joseph Smith didn't actually find Golden Plates after seeing God, Jesus Christ, and the angel Moroni? (I guess this one was actually true.)
Santa isn't real. Magic isn't real. So what the fuck am I doing here brigading your screen with blocks of text? Believe it or not, this blog does have a point. Also, it has nothing to do with the election so stop trying to find a metaphor.
I would later become a conspiracy theorist. And not your dabbling, once a Yom Kippur casual browsing. I was all in. This caused me to closely examine a lot of things that I had otherwise never batted an eye at. Is the moon even real? Did JFK even exist? Were Tupac and Biggie secretly best friends but acted as enemies for the show before they were tragically murdered? How could I ever know for sure that I'm not the only real person in a hyper-realistic video game with intelligent, soulless NPCs?
I have to come to realize that all the things that I have worked hard for all started with a single thought. An image in my head of what change I'd prefer to see in my world. When it was something I truly wanted, I would put in the work, and when I was tenacious enough- the tools to achieve that goal would fall into my path. A lot of times I would fail hard and feel like I need to give up. Like I'm not smart enough or good enough or talented enough. There's something wrong with me and so this goal is not for me.
But when I could find something that I was willing to ask for help with and put in the time and sweat necessary, results would inevitably happen. Sometimes they were shitty results, and I would actually quit but I would always survive with higher XP. And when I would finally reach a goal and see the thing I had once thought about so long ago, I would feel like I'm living in a lucid dream, where my thoughts become reality, only with delayed gratification.
Santa Claus is real. Only he isn't a jolly fat man with elf slave camps. Santa Claus is an energy, an essence in the universe that represents seeing something in your head, then eventually seeing it with your eyes. Everything that has ever come into fruition started with a thought. A visualization of what was preferred. Through effort, networking, persistence, trial and error, and optimism, the things visualized can become tangible items, so long as they follow the laws of the universe.
Sometimes it takes years, even decades. Sometimes it takes months. Sometimes it takes hours. I would assume it depends on the magnitude of the goal and the amount of time and agony you're willing to spend with it, and what you're willing to sacrifice to get to the finish line. We all have this tremendous power. I utilized it when I was just a child dreaming about saving the zoo with a friendly, talking car named Putt-Putt. The Santa Claus spell exists so when adults tell their children about him, they are metaphorizing the power of our thoughts while simultaneously believing they are lying. Now when life kicks the ever-living shit out of them, as it will, they are more likely to lose hope and forget the power of their mind, surrendering to the asshole of the government.
Or some shit, I don't know, I'm kinda high. Thanks for reading.