Okay: once again, time for me to make a concentrated effort to post every day. (Why? Who knows. It takes thirty days to make a habit and twenty to thirty minutes to procrastinate just long enough for the little voice in the back of my head bitching about all the stuff I don’t want to do to shut up, so here we go.)
It’s December. Well done, gregorian calendar! Well done, those of us who survived the holiday season without any extra criminal charges! I am separating Thanksgiving and Christmas into two holidays, as otherwise I would just have to drink from now until January 3rd. (Everything’s still shiny on January 2nd. All hopeful and shit. I like to skip straight to the “oh hey everything is exactly the same as it was [x] days ago” part; it’s slightly less disappointing.)
It is very cool to dislike the holiday season and to be suspicious and slightly resentful of your family. It is very in right now. I cannot say I do not enjoy it a little. I do not enjoy how it makes everyone think you’re friends because of the sacred bonds of not being entirely sure you want to spend upwards of fifteen hours around people you don’t speak to for the rest of the year. However, energy can be neither created nor destroyed, which I guess means all the liking-people with which the end of the year used to be imbued has to go somewhere.
I have got presents for everyone but my mom. They are quite good presents. It helps that I have removed two people I didn’t like or, really, when it came down to it, know very well, and so can spend my money and time on the rest of them. (Admittedly I’ve added four others, but I like them. One is a nephew, who is six and so adorable and easy to shop for. I’ve no idea what to get his mother, but I will set the time-delay charges under and run away from that bridge when I come to it. I can get across the river in a boat, probably.)
This holiday season, I am mostly planning to put on increasingly larger amounts of makeup and stranger and stranger clothes and sit in corners drinking the wine and exchanging sardonic glances with people who really only meant to convey that they find my wardrobe mildly disturbing with that eyebrow raise just then. Togetherness makes me nervous. That is probably the most accurate thing I have ever written about myself.