A festive flair for the gallery in this post. Yes it's Christmas time again, and who doesn't like wearing a little red once in a while?
This is called, "This Is Not Xmas".
And now the ramble begins..... I'm actually not very good at doing the whole Christmas thing. I do remember enjoying it as a kid, but then something happened to me to spoil the whole thing. Enter the dissafected, cynical, smart-arsed teenage attitude, oh around the year 1988. Add a dose of compressing into one day the seeing of every person you have been trying to avoid all year. A sprinkling of showing gratitute for gifts you never wanted and will never use while your brain is not a cauliflower, and a pinch of "If we're not religious, why are we celebrating a religious festival?". Yes, it seemed my task on the day was to be a 'orrible little git. Job done!
Things have gotten a bit better, maybe.
Funny though, how I notice things that are not so good. Yesterday, I saw three seperate women completely lose it at my local shopping centre (which was heaving). I mean yelling and crying. One was because the attendant was having difficulty extracting her jammed receipt from his cash register for goodness sake. The pressure seems to be on and if the breakdown is going to happen now seems to be the perfect time.
Even yours truly is starting to lose his way a bit. For the last 15 years I've worked in an industry that views December as not much more than a cash cow. The heat is on to get all we can while the getting is good. Now, people who know me would say that I am a rather temperate person. Even during a crises I can keep my head. But last week somebody at work managed to find my "piss me off" button and bashed it several times, just like those people who think the more times you hit the button at the pedestrian crossing the sooner the lights will stop the traffic. I snapped just a bit, and gave back a volley of "back off!" suggestions. I am unfortunately not good at this, perhaps naively believing that the best way to resolve a disagreement is to discuss it sensibly. I wonder how far these things should be allowed to continue before one releases the F-bomb off?
I am however looking forward to a bit of down time after xmas. I call it "the decompression", a few days that start on boxing day and last for three days. To sit upon couches, read, sip cold beer, watch bad movies, think, smirk at my laziness, consider starting that painting I've never started (and probably never will), admire my feet, take afternoon siesta's, walk the Sydney streets, and be selfish.
How many more sleeps?
Far too many days until time off - I think, anyway, my days are pretty muddled at the moment anyway. I quite agree with the time off/time out thing. I'm looking forward to housesitting for my aunt in the new year and lolling in her pool.
ReplyDeleteI swear so much that no-one pays attention when I tell them to fuck off. Indeed, I swear so much that people think my vocabulary is lacking. Oh dear.
Time off/Time out - I imagine myself there already. No plans, no schedules. Read when I want to read, sleep when I want to sleep. Wonderful!
ReplyDeleteOh I think swearing is much underrated. Sometimes, only the F-bomb will do.
Time off an out highly reccomended. I have been relaxing on behalf of the working majority of humanity.
ReplyDeleteSounds like we need to wrangle a philly in to assist in the admiration of your feet during said down-time.
Mitzi, your always a few moves ahead, a trailblazer if you will. No doubt you will be able to give wise counsel on appropriate couch dwelling reading material.
ReplyDeleteI conversed with bandit (my left pinky toe, the forward thinker of the group) and he agreed with your suggestion. In fact he said you couldn't be more right even if you were being presented with an award by the International Council of Correctivity for services to the art and science of "getting things right".
The other nine nodded agreement sagely. It's quite a utopian society down there.