Holiday Blues

If fame is a hideous bitch-goddess, then Christmas is the goddess of guilt.  Oh yes, another holiday season is upon us.  Rather than mistletoe and rubbed noses, there’s just a mountain of guilt and a valley of frustration.  The mountain (in theory) is a snow-capped one and the valley plays host to a river of tears that I like to dip a toe into, if not for any other reason that my own self-destructive nature.  I’m well aware that sometimes I am a masochist, indulging the depressive side of me during the season that boasts such mirth and good-spirit.  Nevermind the stress.  Stress I can deal with.  It’s the added stuff: the doubt, the emptiness, the worry, the lonesomeness.  Those are a little harder to shake. 

 Drive, Oxen, Drive!

One of my favorite headaches involves the humanitarian concept behind drives.  Blood drives, food drives, toy drives.  I understand the meaning behind giving.  I do.  I just wish that the nagging would stop.  Oh, I’m not a fuddy-duddy or anything, but it’s just that marketing overkill to induce people to give.  I mean if giving’s your thing then I’m cool.  You should have an option (it being American and all) and you shouldn’t have to be forced to crack open your wallet and spring forth the mighty green fount because someone else said so.  You should be able to pick and to choose.  I’m just saying…


About Mema

I've been at this blogging thing since 2005, but I don't consider myself a veteran AT ALL. My posts are mostly well-meaning, fun anecdotes with the occasional random thought and a dash of humor for good measure. So sit back, relax, and stay awhile. And if you decide to browse elsewhere, just're missing out on an opportunity to meet (arguably) THE GREATEST PERSON THAT EVER LIVED. Overstated? Well, why not stick around to find out? Your call, tough guy. Or, gal. Or, martian.
This entry was posted in Chestnuts Roasting On An Open Fire, Wasteland, Angst, and Other Good News. Bookmark the permalink.

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