I don't know when it started really. There was no tragic turn of events, no wildly disappointing attempt at materialism, no family rift. But so help me, I just don't care for Christmas. Each year I ignore it until the last possible second, at which point I've already reverted to some sort of child-like emotional state which mostly consists of feeling sad and frustrated. This year was no exception, only it was compounded by the fact that I'm currently embroiled in a pre-thirty year old crisis. That ceaselessly fascinating emotional dilemma, I've discovered, basically means that I'm bored, I'm broke and I don't have a boyfriend.
Fast forward to today. Ready to shake it all off for at least a little while. I inherited some sort of reverence for the powers of cleaning house from my mother, and whenever I need to quit fakin' the funk and snap out of it, I clean. My car, the bathroom, the kitchen, whatever. All of the above. Music is requisite and joyfulness ensues. I mean this wholeheartedly, and I believe in it with renewed gratitude every time it happens.
And so. Another holiday down, another moment getting it all back to center and what it all means--good, bad and ugly. I am thankful, I am thankful, I am thankful.
"Whatever you are thinking about, you are becoming"
-Muhammad Ali
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1 comment:
So many comments to make, but I will edit them down to the single observation that activities, money and boyfriends are all things, the possession of which should never make you feel rich nor the lack of which feel poor. You're the treasure, and you always will be.
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