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Her Bad Temper

As merry and bright as the holidays appear to be, I for one feel a sense of doom around the holidays. I feel it in my spirit, I feel it in the ever approaching end of the year. I’m not who I should be–yeah, but is anyone? I know, nobody is. But I still feel bad about it. I remember last year, hoping I wouldn’t feel like this, this year. Regrets over the mean things I’ve said to people. The sense of rage I feel often or all the time over not knowing who I am or where my life is even headed.

For me, the holidays bring a sort of solemnity with them. Because I know who I’ve been. And I might say I’ll do better next year, but there’s a good chance I’ll do worse.

And deeper and deeper we delve into the depths.

It’s cold out today. I’m sitting in my apartment and the heater is on-again off-again as often as it can be. On Sundays I am passive and regretful. I am challenged to have a good day and focus on the good. For the good is this:

It’s a day off and there is no one to tell me when and where to be.

My time is my own, and I can make things like this

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so it can’t be all bad, can it?

 

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Woefully Detached

Christmas is fast approaching and I know some of the things I thought I’d do for people, I will not do. And other things, I will do. I wish I was more creative with making gifts like my mom. But for now, I guess that’s just not me.

I’m so tired today. I feel it in my spirit. A sort of sleepy happy. That’s the only way I can describe it. When I’m in the sleepy happy state, and I get in my shower, I always notice this spider. He’s been living in my shower for months now. He’s itty bitty and he sits on the upper ledge and as long as he doesn’t bother me, I do not bother him. There was a time I didn’t see him for awhile and I wondered if my cats got to him or if he found a new apartment, like the upstairs neighbors, to go to. But he showed up again some time later. I know it’s the same spider and not a different one because I just know. He has a specific face. I’ve thought about killing him before, rinsing him down the drain. Just to see what my reaction would be to the thought. It’s cruelty, and I would never do such a thing.

The end of the year poses a risk I think to many of us. We realize that the masks we’ve been prone to wearing we can finally take off, and throw away. Be ourselves for the people who loves us and the people who don’t and not be afraid any more. It feels like you’re someone at work, someone at home, someone with your significant other, someone with your dad or mom. I feel powerless in a lot of my roles. A voice, quickly to be interrupted or spoken over. I am not a squeaky wheel. I am not a neon color.

Justin and I’ve been talking lately about going to Wadi Rum. The fascination started when we watched Lawrence of Arabia, which, took 3 separate nights just to finish. It’s a barren, romantic wasteland. It’s camels and desert and starry nights. I hate getting on planes, but maybe we could take a cruise ship, and maybe I could do a short plane ride. Maybe we could go there and spend the night, hike the next day, ride the camels, get a tan. Maybe we can go there to that barren place and be barren.

Woefully detached from the world around us.