Don’t get me wrong, I love Christmas. But there are plenty of things that dull the sleigh bells if you ask me.
1) Christmas Shopping
I’m not even getting onto the whole “Crap, what can I get what’s-his-face for Christmas?” with this one yet; that can have a point all to itself. What I’m talking about is the shopping. I hate shopping any time of the year because of all the people, but Christmas shopping is a whole different kettle of fish. There are too many damned people on this planet, so for everyone to be shopping – stressy Christmas shopping – all at the same time…it’s chaos. And I really cannot stand it. I usually try and get my Christmas shopping done by about October, but this year I’ve just been too busy with deadlines and I ended up in the wave of horror. They’re getting in your way; you’re getting in their way. You’re apologising and excusing yourself, and they’re huffing at you because you’re the “ignorant youth of today”. I could go on and on about how the so-called adults can be just as rude, if not more so, but that would bore you all to tears. And me.
Who the hell came up with the bright idea of high school/college/university getting more intense as Christmas nears? I want to slap them about with a wet fish. Come December 1st, you can always be sure that my friends and I will share a look and a common thought: “Oh bugger.” I miss my primary school years where I could be genuinely excited about Christmas because homework was this thing that we hardly ever faced, and when we did it was to read this ten-page book, or learn the three times table. From as soon as you leave high school, you find yourself to be less like this:
…and more like this:
I’m a very happy bunny – my mum and brother bought me a toolbox and socket set. Who needs the Doctor when you have the Engineer?
But seriously, what did you guys think of the Doctor Who Christmas special? Personally I felt it was really poorly written, although the ending was rather beautiful. But ever since Matt Smith came aboard the TARDIS, I feel like the writing has fallen to…well…shit. Some of the River Song moments have been quite good, and I quite like Clara, but overall it’s just not up to the usual top notch I’ve been used to with Doctor Who. Or is it just me who feels like this?
Away from Doctor Who, I hope you’re all having a wondering time with family and friends, and I’m looking forward to seeing you all in the new year! 2013 has been a good one; bring on 2014 as far as I’m concerned!
But that’s the thing about ending a relationship. You know you need out and that this is the best thing to do and all that bullshit you’ve already told yourself ten thousand times, but it’s just so difficult to put all those words into actions and actually do the right thing. You imagine them to be heartbroken, and perhaps even burst into to tears or get angry with you. After all, you’ve both invested so much only to get…this. An unhappy ending, til the next time. It’s one of the scariest things you have to do, and so you just keep leaving it, and leaving it, and before you know it you’ve left it a month and you still can’t make it to their door to give them their stuff back that they left at yours and set you both free.
“I’m not a pussy. I’m not a pussy…”
That’s what you keep telling yourself, yet you’re still here, curled up with your comfort food, wrappers scattered all over the carpet, watching some crappy TV show that bores you to tears but is still better than going out there to face the music. It’s like they’re your safety blanket, except they make you feel vulnerable and needy.
So what’s the point in going 30 on this motorway? Either way you’ll be reaching the same destination. It’s just a lot safer for everybody to get there sooner rather than later. Surely…
It’s 14:10 and I am still in the sack, feeling disgusted with myself but unable to leave the warm covers and face the day…and pile of work I have to do. My laptop, instead of sitting on my desk, is sprawled upon my lap, and my pillows are bunched up behind my neck so that I can see the screen. I’m acting like a slob, and it’s bloody gross.
How is one supposed to leave this sanctuary and force one’s self to make each and every day a productive one, when all one wants to do is take a break now as opposed to in two weeks’ time?
To be fair, I blame my bed for being so damned comfortable!