A/N: Sorry these have been posted irregularly this month. I keep forgetting what day it is. I almost posted this on time yesterday, but I was so exhausted I passed out before I could.
What even happened this week? I’ve been in a trance.
I went Christmas shopping with a friend. It was the first time I’ve ever really done that. It wasn’t extreme Christmas shopping, just mostly looking for stuff for my parents, but nonetheless, I haven’t really done that before.
Christmas has been an odd time for me these past few years. Since lockdown, but it’s not entirely because of that.
You know how when you were younger and you saw a relative you hadn’t seen in a while, how they’d always go, “You grew,” or make some other comment about your changing appearance? That was me with my family post-lockdown, except it wasn’t (completely) about my appearance, and there were no actual comments made. No one said anything at all, not even me, but we all knew I had changed. We all knew that we all had, but it felt different surrounding me, though I know I probably just think that because I’m me. I have grown. I no longer fit in the spot I used to fill in my family, and I’ve been trying to find a new one to inhabit ever since.
It’s normal for your family dynamics to change as you grow from child to adult. I think it’s even normal to feel like the black sheep in your family. I’m just wondering if that feeling ever goes away. Probably. Maybe. I guess I have to wait and see.
Besides black-sheepism, I’m also broke as hell, and prior to this year, I was extremely uncomfortable with even the idea of driving, so Santa Claus I was not. Even though I felt that I should’ve been. Even though I wished that could’ve been.
I wrote a piece about it for school last year. We had to write a short vignette on a stranger, and I chose a girl and her mother that I had overhead on the train. The girl told her mother about all the gifts she was going to ask Santa for Christmas. The list was extensive and extreme. Her mom had to tell her, “I don’t think Santa can do that.” There’s always some gift too grand for even Santa to conjure up. Listening and secretly taking notes on the conversation made me lose track of the stops, and I wasn’t experienced enough with the route to reorient myself in time, so, I, panicked, ended up getting off at the wrong stop. I realized it as soon as I got off the train, but I, embarrassed, walked to my location instead of getting back on. I made eye contact with the mom before I did. There’s not much of note in the piece, but this is how I ended it—this basically sums it up:
“I wished that she told me it was alright if I got back on the train. I wished she told me it was alright if I didn’t know where I was or where I needed to be. I wished she told me it was alright if I still wanted to believe in Santa.”
I cried when I wrote the piece. I was in my dorm. One of my roommates was watching TV right in front of me. I wiped away my tears before anyone could see.
Despite my lazy front (is it a front?), I’m not a huge fan of always receiving and never giving, especially when it’s to people who I would give everything to… for? Whatever. The point is, ever since I outgrew child labor laws, I have felt an expectation to be Santa, and I have wanted to be Santa, but I’ve never been able to do so. I was too jobless, license-less, cowardly, and confused to be. I was trapped feeling pressured, unfulfilled, and behind. As per usual.
But now I am job-ful, license-ful, a little less cowardly, and STILL confused!!! Hell yeah!
My brother and I have decided to start small with gift giving; we’re at Santa Claus Jr. level. Only gifts for our parents because getting stuff for everyone is so stressful, man. We’re not ready. Even getting gifts for just two people has been stressful! For our dad, all we have (we still need to fine-tune the gift) for ideas is “Sportball.” That’s it. Just “Sportball.”
I have hope that Christmas will be a bit less odd this year. I’m not looking for perfection, I would just like cheerful, festive vibes and happy, cozy times. I can withstand being the black sheep, just make sure the wool is soft.
The future is scary. It gets scarier each time that I think about it. But next year, maybe my brother and I will buy gifts for our grandparents, too. And I just helped my brother buy a year-long subscription to a comics collection. And the next F1 season is bound to be dramatic. And my fanfiction is going to get good. And my hair keeps getting curlier. And we might grow a peach tree instead. And my New Year’s Resolution is shaping up to be interesting. And you won’t understand half of what I’m talking about. And you’re still here. And so am I.
My week has been rather plain anyways, not that I’m complaining. Although I had a friend tell me that her favorite blog posts of mine are the ones where I go through a crisis. Those are my favorite too, quite frankly, but boy, does that suck. No, wait, I can make this positive. Ooo, poetic lines incoming. Hold on, whole ass poem incoming:
Yeah. That’s a fun one. I haven’t really experimented with calligrams before, though this is the most basic example of one. Still was fun to write! And annoying! Graphic design is NOT my passion.
I was just thinking about what type of writer I would consider myself the other day. I was asked that at work once and I stumbled through a half-baked answer, so I thought it might be useful to think it through. I’ve decided on saying that I am mostly a fiction writer, usually within the coming-of-age, realistic fiction, comedic realm, though I’ve recently started dabbling with creative nonfiction writing about my life. I am also a sporadic poet; occasionally I am possessed by some impassioned pull and am forced to write poetry, as shown above. In general, I write about identity in whatever form I feel most compelled by, in hopes that I may understand my own a bit more.
GEEZ this is a pretentious post. Or maybe overly-dramatic is the better term. Let me talk about the projects I’ve been working on to end. That should bring us back down to planet Earth.
I have completed the first chapter of my fanfic!!!! Thank you beloved bestie and common commenter Kayak for being my beta reader and helping me edit it! Much appreciated. I tried making an AO3 account so I can start to learn how tags work and hopefully get it posted sometime soon, but I got waitlisted! You need to get on an email list and wait for them to send you a link in order to make an account! I get why, but it doesn’t make it any less annoying. The date I’m supposed to get mine is December 23rd. Man c’mon. That’s eons away. No, it’s not, but I can’t wait! Although, this has forced me to start on chapter two. I haven’t been too in the writing mood as of the past couple of days due to my other projects, but I am nonetheless so excited to see my story come to life. I have ideas. Hopefully they turn out good.
I have spent too many hours working on THE F1 video. I have the driver descriptions finished and am now onto explaining that actual season. I’m a little less than halfway done, but I have the theme of the slides pretty locked down so it should be quicker to make the rest. I then have to make the script, find a decent microphone, record, edit, post, and bada bing bada boom it’s done! Easy peasy lemon squeezy. I’m basically done.
My 2024 white boy calendar is complete! I plan on sending out a survey concerning some superlatives to give them. I’m calling it the White Boy Awards. I’ve already started to work on it; it’s super easy to make, but I don’t want to send it out quite yet, so I’m putting it on the back-burner for now.
I am working on a secret project, too. I’m not sure if I will share more about it once I’m done because of… reasons… but I’ll say this: Maybe I was wrong. Maybe graphic design IS my passion.
HOUSE SEASON 8 SPOILERS:
I am season eight of House. The final one. We did it. Hey look Ma, I made it. This season has sucked! Cuddy and Thirteen left. Are you kidding me? Cuddy and Thirteen?!?!? In the final season?!?!? Shoot me. Just shoot me. We have two new characters replacing them and I don’t even remember their names. Bob girl and prison lady. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
This is going to make the woke mob get me, but it must be said. I understand that they added these characters to meet the woman quota, but you cannot expect me to care as much about them as I do about characters who have been here since the beginning or just about. Also, at this point, I can tell that these characters are just fulfilling archetypes that other characters had. Prison lady’s thing is just Cameron’s compassion and morality. Bob girl’s thing is just Masters’ quirk and youthfulness. Except Cameron was more interesting and Masters was more entertaining. I lowkey miss Masters, honestly. If Cuddy and Thirteen are gone, I would’ve liked to see her come back. It wouldn’t have made much sense story wise, but I do not care.
If anyone else leaves, I’ll puke. Also, Foreman is the big boss now. We win.
I hope the show wraps up nicely. It’s slowly coming to a natural stop, I think. The question is how to end it. It always is.
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