Christmas Eve

I like hearing about other people’s Christmas plans, because it feels very homely, and I like imagining the moments. Sure, every scenario does get twisted in my head so that everyone’s wearing a sweater, in front of a fireplace, and toasting marshmallows, no matter what it is that they do – watching American TV does that to you – but it’s still a nice image.

Like one time when I called up Bee and her mom answered the phone, saying, “oh hi, Bianca’s just laughing really hard at a joke she just told.” And I said, “Oh, is the joke funny?” and she replied, “No, but she’s laughing really hard anyway.” And then in the background I can hear Bee laughing hysterically to herself, Greg telling her how weird she is, and it was a really nice – and slightly amusing – scene to listen to.

I think it would be really cool, in the not too distant future, to wake up one morning to a Christmas with a tree that the people I’m living with worked hard on, and then open the presents, and then spend a day together just goofing off.

And, I’m pretty sure I’ve already blogged something like this last Christmas. Actually I can recall 3 pretty bad Christmases in a row (I already counted this year’s in). Hopes for a good 2009.

Last Christmas and the Christmas before, my family had invited the bunch of “family friends” over for lunch. This year everyone was busy so I thought, finally a Christmas where I’m not being yelled at by my mom to clean up and tidy up and be a slave. But instead she decided to call over another family, and they have a small son who I’d have to entertain. I don’t see how this is really helping either of us, because the son is bored by me and I am bored by him, so wouldn’t it be a better Christmas for the both of us if he and his dad went to the city or someplace fun, and I get left alone at home? Apparently, that’s a really rude thing to want, because my parents want to “have fun” with the dad. I’m pretty sure my dad hates his dad. So just my mom then.

But count on it that I’ll blog tomorrow.

De Fluffe, Out.

P.S. On the offchance I don’t, because, well I can’t imagine what…Merry Christmas.

Content

I think, for now, I can be content just sitting on the couch with some good munchies and a solid supply of decent sitcoms.

It’s strange – at least, I find it strange – that I can be so tired of life sometimes. I can wake up with absolutely no outlook on anything, not wishing or wanting to get up out of bed but knowing I should. I’ll make it to lunchtime before my eyelids feel thick and heavy, and I want to just bury my face in my blankets and sleep the heaviness away.

Then, other times, I’d miss another voice, another face so much that I’d pick up the phone to annoy someone, or look through my pictures just to see those loved faces. I’d dredge up memories of laughter just to take the buzzing blue feeling away.

Content. I love doing things with people. I love the feeling of accomplishment when I’ve done things with people, like going shopping and finding something that either I or they wanted, or having watched a movie and discuss it, or go bowling and, win or lose, witnessed a funny moment I could relive later. But I love even more quiet conversations, heads huddled together, whispering secrets that I’d never say louder, giggling at things that mean nothing.

Like the bankside bench, like the nap.

De Fluffe, Out.

Can someone turn the happiness on?

Why am i not happy like I used to be? I used to be able to have long happy thoughts and memories, my imaginations full of fun things we could do, have done, should do, so forth. Now it’s hard for me to think happily. Despite myself, I keep hearing a darker voice telling me to see the worst in things. To see the glass as half empty instead of being grateful for the water I’ve been given.

And I should be happy. It’s not from the person I’d originally thought, but I’ve gotten everything I ever wanted in a friend. And all I could do to her is complain about how she’s not the person. I should just cut the crap. I’ve been given a pretty good run for the past weeks and a pretty good run coming up for the holidays.

There are three letters I want to write before the year is out. They’re each to Bianca, Carmaine, Dani and Eunice. I want to thank them, in a lengthy manner. But I don’t even know where to start. Last year Carmaine wrote me 2 simple pages, A5, and in less than 200 words she’d struck the chord, and given me a message I still keep in my wallet. I should be able to do the same. I should be able to write the same kind of things so easily. But I can’t even find the voice that I write with.

Last night I had a long and, let’s face it, depressing conversation with Dani. Well, no. The topic of conversation was depressing, but I felt more relaxed and comfortable and…content than if we were talking about plans for the summer holidays.

There was just one other moment when I was content, and that was when I was at Bee’s house, lying in her lap while she was…trying…to study for History. Just watching the Flinestones and feeling her breathing.

I’m not happy or content unless I’m with someone else, these days. I personally depress myself. I can’t stand the crash back to reality after my dreams end.

De Fluffe, Out.