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…if you have to leave,
I wish that you would just leave.
Your presence still lingers here
and it won’t leave me alone…
- My Immortal, by Evanescence
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False
Restrictive
Enemy
Endings
Delusion
Ostentatious
Menacing
Why can’t you leave me alone? Why do you continue to haunt me? Why must your memory constantly stalk my existence? Why can’t I let you go? Why don’t you escape my soul, like your words made it sound? Why does it even matter?
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Or it was. I use the familiar carol sung on South Park by the Dark Lord himself to describe most of my, if not all, Christmas celebrations. Let’s start with the earliest one.
First there’s my aunt and uncle who can only “afford” a pair of socks that never fit, a piece of cheap chocolate, and $5 to McDonald’s (which is never enough for anything). Thanks for breaking a ten, cheapskates. Their daughter, my cousin, is the best thing to come out of them. That was every Christmas until I turned 18.
Next is a Christmas where I was actually FORGOTTEN. I had no reason NOT to be there. But, OOPS, my aunt forgot to add me to the equation. I ate my food as I sat on an armrest to a couch. It was the most embarrassing thing to happen to me in a VERY long time.
And then there was last Christmas, where I got to go to Edmonton. My older sister lives there with her new husband and her kids. For the sake of her late husband (she was a widow before marrying her new hubby, so no Maury Povich required), I went. I had a decent time. I “experienced” the West Edmonton Mall, I found a store I would actually go to and buy from on a regular basis (that is only in that mall), and I had shitty food for dinner. Expecting us to be the same pigs she grew up knowing (we had black holes for stomachs in our youth; my brothers are all over 6’ and I’m 5’10ish), she prepared a load of food that we were unprepared to eat; we became modest about our appetites in public. Not only that, but her kids are spoiled rotten and undeserving of a lot; the excuse my mom gives is, for my nephew’s case, that he lost his father. Please, if I was spoiled over the fact my dad was dead, I would be the laziest and most chauvinistic prick on God’s green earth (well in this case, it was white; Edmonton was covered in snow). At least I had my laptop and Skype. I kept in touch with my girlfriend and it kept me from entering a freak-out. The straw that broke the camel’s back was at the end of the trip, just as we were about to head for the airport. My older sister, in her “infinite wisdom”, says that siblings should not argue. Say what? Siblings SHOULD argue! How else can they make sure that they don’t offend their own sensibilities? Also, how else can they protect one another? Arguments are EXPECTED. No one has more in common with you than the person who is more closely related to you, and that’s your brother and/or sister. Typical that it was my half-sister to say it, we all looked at her, disgusted, and didn’t say another word. I don’t care if my younger brother did say something to her, but she has hell to pay with me. I’m never going to Edmonton TO VISIT HER again, nor am I looking forward to her coming here for a Christmas; I’m avoiding her family.
But those are Christmases gone by. I’m home this Christmas, and I will have my girlfriend as close as I can get her. I have her presents “wrapped” and she gets them in two days. Of course, she’s impatient and I’m excited, but I preach patience and I always will, even though every single horoscope says that I should be as impatient as ever, more so than she. That might explain some of my haste into intimacy…
Anyway, I’m just glad to be home. Instead of getting everyone individual presents, Mom gets a break this year: I’m buying Christmas dinner for our immediate family, even though it’s not going to be ON Christmas. As well, I am going to get myself in a daze as of the 24th. Christmas Eve is usually a Mass where the pastor goes into a depressing rant, draining away all of the celebration that is the birth of Jesus Christ; yes I am a Catholic. If he mentions his chaplaincy in a juvenile detention center, I walk out the door. Then there’s a party held by my godparents for close friends and family. I played baseball with them this summer (and my godfather the past two summers) and they always have a good spread of food; who am I to say no?
Making this a depressing-happy-depressing sandwich, my older brother and his family are probably coming over for Boxing Day, as tradition dictates: Dad’s side on Christmas Day (with my grandmother on his side now deceased, no such thing will happen) and Mom’s side on Boxing Day (with my grandmother on her side basically institutionalized, she won’t be there). I have a beef with my older brother because of a comment one of his Facebook friends made regarding the fact my family does not go to see any of his Pipes and Drums performances, as he is in the Grimsby band there; I’m too lazy to find the name. Anyway, his friend says that my family is too jealous of his success. As soon as my younger sister told me this, I found the comment, left a very colourfully-worded reply, and deleted his sorry ass from my Facebook page. If I see him, I will talk to him, apologizing first of course; I’m too nice sometimes. I will then tear him a new one over it. I’m done with putting up with people’s shit. I don’t even like it when my girlfriend talks shit about herself, because she is insulting the person I know by insulting the person she thinks she sees. Christmas will be a turning point, as I’m no longer letting life just flow. If I have to, I will become a rock in the stream and take my place before I go over the falls.
