I hate Christmas.
That's right, I said it. I hate Christmas.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not looking for pity here, I'm looking for solidarity. I do not feel like I'm missing out on something, or lacking in the spirit of the season. Giving gifts is fun and that I can stomach. It is everything else I don't care about, and wish I could avoid.
Maybe I'm not sentimental, maybe I don't get into tradition, maybe I don't believe in picking one day over the next as being more significant. All I know it that when I see a character in a movie or TV show that state that they have not been home for a decade I experience a pang of jealousy.
Yes, I enjoy seeing my friends when I am here, that is what makes these annual trips at all bearable. But I am seriously considering arranging long trips to non-Christian countries over the holidays for the next few years. Really. Really really. Heck, I should get a boyfriend just so I have the excuse that I have to spend the holidays with his family. Or an imaginary one, at the very least. Huh, what profession should I pick for my imaginary boyfriend? Oooh, the potential is unlimited. A trapeze artist could be fun. Maybe an Elvis impersonator? But I digress.
I guess if you feel sorry for anyone, you could feel sorry for my parents. They went and made themselves a non-sentimental daughter who craves freedom and independence. They have grandkids they can dote on, so they'll be okay.
Anyhoo, looking forward to tomorrow downtown drinking with Bacon. Good times to come, hurrah!
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