As Alvin and the chipmunks sang, “Christmas time is here again…”

Well, long time, no blog, eh? I guess, well, I don’t know where to begin with the explanations as to why I haven’t been writing. I’ve been busy, yes, working a lot at [—-]. It’s Christmastime, which is crazytime for retail. Ever since Black Friday, I’ve been either working or at home, exhausted, after working, the majority of the time. I’ve also been pretty depressed on and off.

A week before Thanksgiving, I got a call from my friend Camilla, to let me know that one of my best friends, Ellie’s, dad had dropped dead while playing basketball. Ellie was studying abroad at the time, and didn’t even know and it was just… extremely hard. Her family were able to get her a flight home the next day, and a lot of our other friends were able to come home from college so we could all be together… but it just sucked. It was so sudden, and so much like what happened with my dad, that it was hard to be as strong for Ellie as I needed to be. It’s like I wanted to help her with her grief, but it was only like seven months after my dad’s death and it felt like ripping the wound back open.

So, yeah. That had me pretty depressed, plus my grandma has been in and out of the hospital (long story), and it just seems like everything has been systematically going wrong, one thing after another, constantly. *big sigh*

But things are starting to look better! Really! Christmas is coming, and I love Christmas. All the decorations, the carols, the presents, the cheer. Plus, all my friends who are away being dedicated college students will be home for winter break, and we can party it up like it’s 1999, or something.

I also applied as a non-matriculated student at our local state college, and while I’m waiting to hear back on that, hopefully I can start taking baby steps back towards college next semester.

And in the best news, we are FINALLY moving back into our house this weekend! Yay! Not only is all the flood damage cleaned up/gutted/gone, but everything is shiny and pretty and new. I can’t wait.

It’s snowing right now, has been for a couple of hours, and it’s actually sticking. We’ve had a few flakes here and there, but no major snowfall until today, which is really unusual for where I live. Generally, I’m not a big fan of winter, or cold, wet, precipitation, but I must say, this snow looks beautiful. I don’t know how beautiful it will be when I have to drive through it to work in about an hour and a half, but right now? Gorgeous.

It’s like fucking Dawson’s Creek around here! Or; Grief Makes You Selfish, and Occasionally Mean.

*Before I start bitching: All names have been changed to protect the innocent, as per usual. If I’m entitled to my anonymity, so are they.

Last night I went to go see Employee of the Month with some of my friends. Funny movie, btw. Dane Cook cracks my shit up; Jessica Simpson, not so much. Anyway, after the movie, I ended up spending some time sitting in my car, talking with my friend Carrie. Who was crying her eyes out, over our mutual friend Ken. There’s this whole fucked up triangle thing going on between Carrie, Ken, and Ken’s girlfriend, Taylor, who is also, you guessed it, one of my good friends.

I just cannot take the drama anymore. I want to fucking smack all three of them. Carrie’s sitting there, crying, and I’m trying to comfort her, and really all I want to do is to make her shut up, because I don’t care about her Dawson’s Creek problems, or how she and Ken are best friends, and she hates Taylor, and Taylor hates her, blah blah blah blah and will she and Ken ever be more than friends, blah blah blah blah.

Basically, for all you fellow Dawson’s Creek junkies: Carrie is Joey, Ken is Dawson, and I think that would make Taylor Jen. Which leaves me as what, Pacey? Oooh goodie. If we follow the whole storyline along that means I’m going to 1) fall in love with a mental patient and 2) end up in lesbian love with Carrie. Okay, so the Creek thing only goes so far.

I’ve been watching a lot of Dawson’s Creek lately. Damn you, Netflix. I give you my money and you send me Dawson’s Creek DVDs. I have a problem, and you encourage it. You’re an enabler, that’s what you are!

Anyway, I understand that Carrie’s hurting, really I do, and I want to be a good friend. But it’s hard for me to listen to her problems for hours on end without ending up feeling like she has no right to complain to me, my life sucks so much more than hers. Which is just mean! And what exactly do I say? “Um, yeah. My dad died unexpectedly, he just didn’t wake up one morning, and then my house got flooded and God only knows when we’ll be able to move back into it, so shut the fuck up about your fucking boy troubles?”

God, I feel mean for even thinking it. Basically, I’m a sucky friend right now. I’m not in any place to be giving people advice. But advise I did, and I talked to her civilly and didn’t strangle her, so why do I still feel like a lousy person?

Meh.

Meanwhile, I’m having trouble with the smallest, stupidest things. Like somebody will come through my line at [—–] and buy Good & Plenty’s (sp?) and I’ll feel like I’ve been punched, trying not to cry, because I hate them, but they were my dad’s favorite candy.

Okay, and now I’ve brught myself to tears writing this. It’s 4:15 in the morning. I should probably go to bed. And I refuse to cry myself to sleep. Sleeping pills, here I come.

Black Friday, or something like that.

Today was another gray and ugly day. I woke up hungover and stayed hungover. I’m wicked depressed, and I don’t know if it’s because my doctor took me off my anti-depressant (seems the obvious answer) or because my life just suck majorly and this is my reaction.

Fuck this, I should just give up the ghost. I’m beginning to think that things will never get better.

Off to cry myself to sleep.

It’s much easier to say this kind of thing anonymously. When people I know see me and ask me how I’m doing, I always lie. I say I’m doing fine, so’s my mom, everything’s fine fine fine.

Fine is a line. The smile is fake. All I am is a dark hole of sadness and grief and I just want to burrow further into my hole, into myself, away from the world.

My mom would never show to me but I can hear her cry at night and I know she feels the same. We’re just two holes, that’s all that’s left of my family.

Every day I miss my dad. I keep thinking it will get easier, but it never does.

Tomorrow

Tomorrow we’re burying my dad’s ashes. I don’t know what to say now, and I doubt that I will have figured something out by then. It’s been four and a half months since he died, and somehow I’m still in shock.

I worked an eight hour shift today. I’m hoping that I’m tired enough that when I hit the bed I will fall asleep immediately. I don’t want to think, don’t want to end up crying myself to sleep.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. I don’t know how I’m going to deal with this. 😦