Of all the Charlie Browns in the world, you're the Charlie Browniest.
Sunday December 16, 2007 @ 11:38 p.m. ::
Mood: thoughtful
Tonight, as I was out walking Trinny past the decorated homes dripping with Christmas spirit along my Mom�s street, I found myself envying those to whom the Christmas spirit comes easily.
It�s like I�ve become Charlie Brown, Scrooge, and the Grinch all gift wrapped into one miserable �I hate Christmas and everything it represents� package. (Though I do have to say that I do have a rather pretty bow.)
I have no interest in decking the halls or trimming the tree. (Sure, I decorated the store but, in the end, it was half-arsed.) Carols grate the nerves. Christmas cards are now an afterthought. I�ve purchased gifts but have no excitement about giving � or receiving � them. There was a brief excitement with the office�s Secret Santa but it frittered away. A mere flyby during the night.
It�s not that I�ve especially been Christmas-ey, either. I remember Christmases at my Grandma�s � the house was always filled with people. So much so that I�d go into overload, retreating upstairs and seclude myself in my room. And this year, with the prospect of two Christmases (one at Auntie�s and one at my Mom�s) and the sadness that comes with houses of single families celebrating instead of the extended family altogether, I suppose I can�t get into the Christmas spirit. It�s a symbol of the loss that�s overtaken invaded my life these last couple of years. The Spirit of Christmas Past has come for tea and my time with him hasn�t quite come to pass (and to top it all off the smarmy bastard�s hogging all the sugar cookies and Egg Nog).
I guess Charlie brown put it best:
I think there must be something wrong with me, Linus. Christmas is coming, but I'm not happy. I don't feel the way I'm supposed to feel. I just don't understand Christmas, I guess. I like getting presents and sending Christmas cards and decorating trees and all that, but I'm still not happy. I always end up feeling depressed.
