embrace loneliness (or get the f over it)

I’m not sure I’ve embraced it, and I’m not sure I’m over it, but for now, but not (as) lonely, so I s’pose that I’ve circumvented this goal, even if I haven’t actively achieved it

I think I’ve got a crush on a gay man for the second time within the past year. I don’t think my crushes are normal; I tend to like people because they’re sad, not because they have sex appeal. I thought I supposed to experiencing raging hormones in my 20s?

I haaaate nice people. Chirpiness reeks of fakeness.

But I also dislike mean people – perhaps even more so because I can’t stand up to ‘em worth shit and only curse them afterwards in my head. And, going on the very presumptuous postulation that there are ONLY nice people and mean people and no in-betweens, I suppose I hate all people.

Or, if we must account for discrepancies, I suppose people can be both nice and mean, but I find both attributes equally disturbing, although for different reasons. I think the people I DO like are the ones who are nice and mean at the same time. Or the ones who I can’t really categorize in terms of “nice” and “mean.”

Holidays bring out the scrooge in me. Christmas, especially, reaffirms my belief that warmth and fuzziness are social constructions – or rather, social fabrications – intended to delude and placate. Although I must admit, there is some comfort in delusions, yes?

Tomorrow is back to work. It’s funny because yesterday, Christmas Eve, we were frazzled to death clearing out the Christmas tables and marking down all the holiday items. It seemed slightly absurd, all of this cleaning up and clearing out taking place pre-Christmas.

What’s just as absurd, however, is how tomorrow, post-Christmas, all the Santa hats, peppermint bark, and twinkling lights will lose their effect – that is, their ability to impose an aura of warmth and fuzziness – and become horribly out of place. All the decorations, once beautiful, will suddenly seem incredibly contrived and overdone, so much so that they’re marked down 50, 75, or 90 percent. Doesn’t all this prove that Christmas is really a rather shallow – if not altogether terrible – holiday, very shiny and superficial, little more than a pageantry of suburban spoils?

Pardon me for not feeling very thankful. I hate the feeling where I sit for so long that my legs get stiff. I mean, seriously, who gets tired from sitting?!

I’ve been getting increasingly more hung up on political correctness lately and, as a result, have adopted a holidays-are-a-social-construction mentality. Yet, I can’t help but feel depressed when I’m sitting alone in front of my computer on a warm-and-fuzzy family holiday. Damn you, society—for being you and for making me care, even when I don’t freaking want to!

You know the Simon and Garfunkel song, “I am a Rock”? Such a perfect song. Shows how saying something automatically and paradoxically makes it untrue. That is, I am a rock = shit, I’m just silly puddy.