happy fucking holidays

suddenly, i'm not so sure i'll be home for christmas. the sad fact of the matter is that i don't want to be home for christmas. either home. on one side, we have my mother and dying grandfather, who may well be dead by then, nobody knows. it will be depressing, it will be oppressive, there will be the terrifying family that i mentioned in my thanksgiving rant. my mother will be at the end of her tether, my grandparents will be doing their best but really just too old and too sick to do the normal family thing, my uncle will be sitting around spouting dogma while his sociopathic 13 year old daughter stares dolefully at me and my mother, refusing to speak to us. meanwhile, i and perhaps my sister (if she's able to make it) will be attempting to keep the peace in some way, whether that be driving people around or cooking dinner or whatever.

and in the other corner, we have a gaggle of texans. all of whom i love, but don't know so well, and there would be small children involved. and it would be texas. though there would be sweet potato casserole. but it would be texas.

so i don't know. going home just isn't sounding so good right now. i'm kind of hoping that i can just stay here and marinate, crash a refugee celebration or something. the city will be so quiet. perhaps i'll even have the apartment to myself for a while. an apartment with no heat, but to myself nonetheless.

yeah.

i kind of hate the holiday season. and i kind of love it, too.

once again, i need an answer. but, unlike the last one i sought, only i can provide it. and i can't decide if that's going to make it more or less frustrating.

seek not, little grasshopper, lest you find the truth behind your suspicions.