2001-12-13 | 1:09 a.m.

Santa is bringing me a nervous breakdown for Christmas. And why? Because that fat bastard feels as if its about time. It's so important for me to remain in perfect control. (Well, I suppose that's the understatement of some century or other.) But still, I can free flow with the best of them but I need certain structures. When those structures are obliterated it's not a pretty sight.

I'm walking around town right now trying to infuse myself with some Christmas spirit. Trying to remember that I have to live my life every minute of the day because 5 of my friends aren't going to have that chance anymore. So I look at displays and people shopping and laughing and smiling and I feel like I'm ticking down to breakdown city. The truth of the matter is that the holiday season has always made me feel ill. Thanks to commercialism, the minute Halloween is over, it seems as if everyone is barraged with reindeer, lights and wreaths. And it's at this time that I always start feeling strange. Whenever I'm confronted by a sign of the impending holiday season I seem to be brushing away unshed tears. And I understand we have to go forward and celebrate. Not to forget but to remember and still go on. But, oh shit I have no point. It's just a big knot in my stomach and no matter how much I try I can't seem to untie it.

The irony of this all is that I sent Christmas cards out after the first week of December. Trying to get them all done. I finished buying presents for my immediate family because money wise that's all I can handle this year. And so I jumped on that bandwagon. I got everything done. Except now I have this sour taste in my mouth. Because it's not about that and I know it. And honestly because I really should buckle up and not feel, or say, or think, so much. Because it's gotten me in trouble in the past. So right now I am trying to move past those feelings, because they will do me no good.

I have an interview tomorrow. Nothing exciting though. It's just an agency. I don't even know why I bother going. They all tell me the same thing. "It's really hard out there now" (no shit you think?) It seems as if all they want is for me to come in, fill out their paperwork and have them ask me questions which I always try my best at and then never hear from them again or have them tell me there are no job openings at the current time. Well if there aren't any then why bother even calling me in to see you? It wastes my time and theirs. Very frustrating.

And I told myself that unemployment would be ok. But I have hardly any cash in the bank and it's not like I'll be getting a larger amount in there any time soon. And while this is materialistic of me I don't give a shit. I hate having to think about money like this. I hate having to pull back on the simple luxuries like buying a magazine or a lipstick. Yes they are frivolous purchases but they are part of me because I like looking through magazines and wearing makeup. *grrr* Sue me if you think I'm so fucking girlie girl. Then again you wouldn't get a penny if you did. Po'ass broke makes you get bubkiss.

That's it. Fuck this. I'm going to bed before I try to defend my make up bag, and nights of gin and tonics.

Later..



p r e v i o u s // n e x t