Thoughts around the Holidays

8 December 2022

It’s been a while since I’ve written. I’ve been snowed under with various ad-ridden mobile app games, listening to music I should’ve grown out of by now and trying to sort my life out.

Speaking of snow, it’s December, the month in which both Christmas and my birthday fall.

I turn 24 years old in two days. The same age Lee Harvey Oswald was when he shot and killed Kennedy. A bizarre age. Your brain starts making sense of the world. I’ve started to feel a bit more comfortable in my own body and mind, less inclined to passively kill myself, a general sense of socks needing to be pulled up and shit needing to be sorted. I wonder if this is how Oswald felt.

I started therapy, with a genuine interest in making myself feel better rather than to appease those close to me, or LARPing as Tony Soprano, and I feel like things are on the up. This is usually mania driven, and I do think I have a twinge of that (I cannot write without it) but less than is customary on my good days. A quotidian amount of mania for the days I don’t think about walking into traffic.

Talking is a complete bore though. I feel like a complete bromide paying some poor woman to listen to the same life story I used to drunkenly regale to whichever sorry cunt was stood next to me in a smoking area. However, it does help, I feel validated when people recognise the outré situation I was born into. It’s nice.

I’ve put my Christmas tree up and wrapped most of my presents. I’ve designed, printed, and written my annual Christmas cards, they sit in my drawer waiting to be posted since the festive season* doesn’t officially begin until after my birthday.

I’m somewhat excited for Christmas, it’s just a bit fucking tiring isn’t it. It comes around so quickly every year; I feel like I only watched Home Alone a couple of months ago. Apparently, every year gets older as you age, which doesn’t make sense to me as old people are so slow all the time. You’d think they’d hurry the fuck up. There are stockings to be filled and wines to be mulled. What is eggnog, by the way? Can you get that in England? It looks disconcertingly semeny.

Anyway, thinking about Christmas Day exhausts me. There’s so much going on, but it somehow feels never-ending. It causes the same feeling that walking through museums or galleries gives me. You know that weird fatigue; your legs feel like jelly and you’re always slightly too hot? It’s alright though, decent day. It’s no Halloween or Birthday.

Birthdays are the best. Not even a contest. Everyone must do what you want, and no one can tell you off if you drink or smoke too much. Did I mention it’s my birthday in two days? I am going to assassinate the President of the United States of America.

*“Festive season”, listen to me, what’s next? Merry Wintermas? You can’t say anything these days. The New World Order is trying to erase the Christian identity of our proud nation, while they laugh under their kippahs. It has nothing to do with faux-inclusively in modern marketing or a run-of-the-mill capitalist greed.