i hate holidays.
inevitably, i will become excited at the promise of something new and different. some glimmering day filled with laughter and cheer. a break from the drudgery of work/sleep/paybills/work. i will plan and plot and create vivid fantasies. i will become enchanted with the decorations, wrapped up in the consumerism, and positively giddy with unrealistic notions of pleasure and goodness.
i watch too much television.
i accept marketing ploys.
i am an advertisers wet dream.
despite my admissions, and subsequent self-awareness, i fall prey to holiday anticipation. every year, for each and every holiday. and every year, i vow to avoid the trap of enthusiasm the following year. and then i fail.
the worst incidence occurs on new years eve, when the entire world gathers in carefree and loving cliques to celebrate, laugh, and relish in the good cheer of welcoming a new year with loved ones. i, having an adversity to bars, parties, and large festive gatherings marked by binge drinking and tasteless dancing to vacant pop music, lament said adversity and dream of partaking in such dionysian frenzy. i know, however, that such activity would leave me depressed and bewildered over my fellow humans ability to laugh in the face of monumental global crises. i would then curse everyone, regret my decision to join the hoardes of ignorant partiers, and wish that i had stayed home on the couch with the kitties, the drew, and the doggie.
despite efforts to curb my desire to venture out on this new years eve and accept a warm and peaceful night of snuggling on the couch, i still felt that little green monster frolicking in my gut when i watched the people whooping it up in times square. why did they get to be there, vacationing, throwing care to the wind? why didnt their fiances have colds? how could they afford the ticket to nyc and a hotel room during the holidays? bastards.
the jealousy led to depression. 2002 sucked. i hated it. the drew lost his job. we racked up enormous credit card debt. i crawled back to satan and begged her for a job. the wedding was postponed yet again. i gave up any and all hopes and dreams of self-employment. i gave up on pretty much everything.
and then, while doing laundry only hours before the dreaded 2002 clicked over to 2003, i fell down the basement steps. (yes, you can laugh at that, one of lifes funny little kicks in the ass, as i suffered nothing more than a few bruises.)
fuck you, 2002. heres to a new year.