I know this is so cliche and yet so me to turn things into a sappy mess on Christmas but the holiday has me thinking.
I woke up today to a homemade breakfast and lights strung and a wonderful dad who happened to wrap my presents in a plastic bowl and a Starbuck’s cup. I gave him a list of wants, number one being a dog, and I got none of those gifts. I got:
- A cup of $2o
- A framed poster which his friend photographed
- Pepperment Jojo’s from Trader Joe’s
- A bowl of $10
So, long story short — nothing on my list. I made a list for a reason, Dad. But honestly, I wasn’t disappointed at all because he gave me gifts he knew I would like and they were more personal. Well, I was actually only disappointed about the dog, but there’s always next year.
I continued my day by texting every person who had any significance to me at all during the year. This list includes but is not limited to: best friends, ex-best friends, ex-boyfriends, old friends, new friends and lost friends. This was a cleansing thing, making sure I left things on a good note for myself so I don’t go into the New Year with this shit hanging over my head — I already have back problems.
For the nth time, my mom, sister and I volunteered to feed the homeless for a solid three hours. That’s always a tear jerker. Because between the bussing of tables and running to get drinks and pies and the occasional conversation, my mind is to itself on the busiest day of the year. I begin to think about the homeless and how my life is such a blessing, and my friends and family who made me the person who would actually volunteer for the homeless on Christmas. Unfortunately, not many people I know would do that, and I know I’m a good person for doing so.
With that straightened out, I began to cry to myself for the second time in 12 hours. (The first time being when my boss let me off on time at work on Christmas Eve, when I should’ve stayed another hour. God bless her and allowing me to spend the night with my family.) And the second time was standing in middle of a huge dining hall in the Portland Art Museum with a lot of people staring at me because they’re probably like “Why the fuck is this privileged chick crying when it’s Christmas and she’s surrounded by a bunch of homeless people when we’re not even crying?” Well excuse me, sir, it’s because I just had a realization on how great my life is, so fuck you.
During this same time I was watching a group of five or six Chinese people sitting down and I went to offer help and they spoke to me in Spanish. I was more confused than I should’ve been and blankly said “No speak-o Español.” There’s my Spanish 3-4 for ya. Public schools.
After another two hours and fifty eight minutes of volunteering, we were off to a steakhouse for dinner. My mom doesn’t like to cook and we don’t like to eat her food so we were satisfied, beside the fact that we ate a microscopic amount of food and it only cost us $150 for all-you-can-eat.
My mom got me virtually half the things on my list, plus or minus a few. But I wasn’t any more happy with her than my dad because they both made me really happy in their own parent ways. Isabella, of course, was the one to break that rule — she definitely made me the least happy and the most happy. Let me explain:
She fucking bought me and my mom matching sweatshirts with my cats on them. She bought herself one too.
And about seven hundred words later, that about wraps up my day. But why the hell did you read this far? My day was very insignificant, despite the roller coaster I made it seem. I don’t even expect myself to read this far.
But yes!, there is actually a plot to this. I love Christmas not because of the gifts, but because of the comfort and warmth it gives you inside. It makes you realize the good and the bad and it’s a real kick in the ass if you’re trying to become a better you in the New Year — like a report card a few days before the end of the semester.
With that, I started realizing how fucking weird my 2016 was. If interested, here is a summarization:
- My sister graduated and left for college (they grow up so fast!)
- I turned 16 (sweet!) and got my licenses, and a car
- I had many firsts: (a list within a list I hate myself)
- first time smoking/being high
- first time drinking/being drunk
- first kiss
- first time having sex
- played varsity softball and racquetball but quit soccer (I later quit softball)
- I kicked ass at nationals in racquetball and won “Rookie of the Year” award, no biggie though because there were only two “rookies”
- I became best friends with someone new
- I stopped being best friends with this same person 6 months later
- I also lost about four of my other best friends
- My forever best friend basically upgraded to my sister
So “wack” is the only word I can think of to summarize that shit up. Basically, I need to get my life together because I probably have PTSD after 2016. And how do I do that? “New year new me,” right?
I want to leave the bad parts of me in 2016, and I already have regrets of what I didn’t do. I think this is more 2007, but I really want to learn the piano. I just watched a music video and pianos are beautiful. I also want to learn to dance in puddles and walk to a beat and get the courage wear my yellow raincoat even though I know people will find it ugly. I wish I would’ve gone and seen The Lumineers before they were a big band because if I were to go see them now it just wouldn’t be the same as a small concert. So maybe learn to go watch small concerts. Also, appreciate the good things in life because they not last as long as you wished.
(Basically that last paragraph is my reactions to watching a Lumineers music video.)
((The song was Ophelia, if you were wondering.))
Once I’m done with this post I’m definitely going to do a post on my reactions to watching music videos to my favorite songs for the first time, so just hold tight a fat minute so I can get this wrapped up and get the show started.
BACK TO THE POINT. This has turned from a *quick summary of my big Christmas realization* to a post I have devoted at least an hour of my life to that I won’t get back, and I’m probably wasting your time too at this point so might as well make it all worthwhile.
I already know that my 2017 is going to be just as wack as my 2016. If interested, here is a summarization:
- Junior year
And of course solid half of my friends are going to graduate and leave for college and I have a solid two and a half fucking years to deal with fake bitches and high school. Even though that sounds passive aggressive, it really is. Most literally: everyone at Lincoln (except a select few, mainly seniors WHICH is the reason I’m passive aggressive) is either fake or a hoe, and I mean that most literally. But I’m gonna let your imagination run wild to figure out who you are!
I really am going to miss our seniors and my sister when she leaves for college again in January and my innocence because that shit’s staying in sophomore year. I know myself all too well, and I know for a fact that I will be crying when watching all my friends walk at graduation and I will have to leave the photography to my partner Alex, (go you, love you) because I will be a HOT MESS. And the same things will happen in two more years when I sit next to all my friends and watch them walk from behind the curtain. Because, to be honest, the grade above mine is irrelevant as fuck so no tears will be shed for them.
All I want is, in a year from today, to be held accountable. I will read the blog post in a year, six days away from going into 2018 and I’m gonna be like “Wow, and she thought her shit wasn’t together. Lmao little did she know…”
That’s all I want, and this is basically a salad (my boss started using that term as a synonym to a big mess). All I really want is to live every day like it’s Christmas. With the warm feeling it leaves you but it’s that ass-kicking motivation for you to get your life in check, because obviously things are changing very fast and we’re growing up and by the time I finally finish this post, we’ll be graduated.
So, enjoy my babes. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.
P.S. I already know I’m gonna get those comments like “You were probably pretty fucked up when you wrote this post, right.” NO. 110% sober. Because staytruetoyou.org.