We often realize the presence of something only when it breaks down. We take our computer, or printer, or coffeemaker for granted —until it stops working. In a certain sense, it is only when these things fail that they start to exist for us and come into full view; they become visible after a measure of nothingness has crept into them. As long as you can use your car unproblematically la move from one place to another, you don't pay much attention to the car itself; gradually, as it keeps working as it should, you see less and less of it. But when it breaks down in the middle of the road, the car becomes suddenly, massively present. You cannot not notice it now: here it is, an imposing pile of steel and stuff, noticeably not moving. Not unlike Heidegger's hammer, except on a grander and more annoying scale. Failure unsettles-it dusts things off, exposing them for what they are.

Although it is the middle of the summer, I am sitting here listening to Christmas music. Many people would say that I have a screw loose or that I'm simply just a little odd in the head. The truth is probably a little of both. Actually, I listen to Christmas music throughout the year because it brings me peace and solace. Holiday jazz and classical songs tend to bring about a calming reaction in an otherwise chaotic environment. This is so true during the actual Christmas season. Besides the daily hustle and bustle, people are in a giving and caring mood. They give more to charities. They drop coins in the buckets of bell ringers on every corner. In general, we are all more kind to fellow human beings during the season. That being said, why do we have to contain that kindness for only one part of the year? Why can't we have that Christmas spirit every day of the year? If you take away the commercialism and don't have to fight for gifts at the mall, you are left with just a cheerful attitude. So as you set up for your summer picnic, stop at the stereo and pop in a Christmas CD.