podeamMake the Yuletide
They say Christmas (and any other festive season, really) is for those dear to you. True, the crass commercialisation expiates it from being a truly holy occasion for most (which allows for the rest of us to play), but those whom you ring the till for should be dear to you.
They didn’t mean that you should spend special times with those you love. The times aren’t special unless they’re spent with those you love.
This evening didn’t feel like Christmas one bit. True, the tinsel was up, with fluffy wool and reindeer and snowflakes and santas, but it wasn’t HoHoHo Jolly.
Going through the rigmarole of Being Nice And Friendly To People, I couldn’t help but think how I’d prefer to be just curled up under my sheets.
True, it had been a truly horrid morning, fighting for something one shouldn’t have to fight for, with someones one shouldn’t have to fight period, but the evening just wasn’t Christmas.
Now I’m home, with dinner and a shower, waiting for a ride. For another celebration. A reason for inebriated splendour. Not my celebration, nor my reason, but I’ll take it anyway.
I wish I could be a better sport, during contrived Christmas Parties. On the inside, truly wanting to have fun and etcetera. But.
But.
I did enjoy talking to a few people, whom I’ve never had contact with before; I think I’d just have liked them quite abit more in a different setting – one with me and you and steaming mugs of the-beverage-of-your-choice and no tinsel nor fluffy wool nor reindeer nor snowflakes nor santas.
That would have been a hohoho.
Here we are, as in olden days,
Happy golden days of yore.
Faithful friends who are dear to us,
Gather near to us, once more
« Ho no. | Hearken the Bells »