a little later, maybe?

25 12 2007

this season, i’ve been thinking about the reason for christmas. sure, everyone says that the reason is Jesus, but what do we look forward to? is it really the fact that our Saviour came as a soft, smelly, crying baby (people who really think Jesus the baby didn’t cry are kidding themselves), or is it because of the great new game console we just got? i’ve been doing a lot of thinking particularly because i’ve had to write my term papers and not have much of a break – but that’s just because i’ve left it till approximately the last minute.

we watched ‘home alone’ every christmas when we were growing up, and even though we could recite huge portions of the movie at a time, we still laughed over it. the traditions of the festival… is it more than this? there is more to christmas than pudding, and ham, and turkey-that-should-be-for-thanksgiving-only-we’re-not-american-and-don’t-celebrate-it, and crackers and reruns and candles and friends-we-don’t-have-anything-to-say-to. this is the season that everything came to pass. this is the season that means the sum total of existence.

this is the season of love.

and love is.

merry christmas, everyone.





no child should have to endure this

20 12 2007

this got my attention.





what if i say

13 12 2007

today, it’s been one thing after another. for the last month, it’s been one thing after another. i have ached to do so many things, but have not been able to for one reason or another. i can’t live by what i feel any more.

i’ve been seeing a psychiatrist for a month now. i’ve been taking little pink pills every morning and a little maroon and burgundy pill after dinner every night for a month now. i haven’t been able to see past this fog for a month now.

i’m supposed to become better soon, in a couple more months i’ll be alright, the doc says. i don’t like him.

the tears seem to just be there, and it’s hard to breathe, but harder still to not talk about it. how do i articulate what i can’t even put into words?

i feel trapped. in the privacy of my room now, with this light on my desk on the keys of my laptop, with my notes for the term papers in front of me, all i can see are the shadows that are formed by the light that just doesn’t… reach.

i feel so guilty, like i’m supposed to be a happy, joyful person who is strong, brave, outgoing, independent, free but i’m just not quite making the cut for the improvisation scene. helping the students practice their pieces for the drama events in the speech festival this year was exciting and brutal. i just don’t feel… it. this guilt i feel is not real, just like this heaviness is temporary. i wish i could run like a child again, safe in the knowledge that this moment is it. there’s no past, no future, nothing except for the… what?

but the shittiest thing is that i don’t want to feel this way; i know that there’s so much more to life than this, but this is hurting me quite a bit and i don’t know what to do about it, because it feels like i’m just waiting. i don’t want to leave my job, but i don’t want to stay. i seem to have lost my ability to decide for myself. i expect i’ll regret writing this, but they’re coming now, and the angry beating in my ears is holding back the lump in my throat.