Tuesday, October 19, 2004


I hate Christmas.

The season is great. The cool air, the indestructable desire for snow to settle itself upon the world and destroy human mobility.

I hate the day.

Every fucking Christmas, I feel disappointed. It's not necessarily because I expected everything I asked for, in fact, I'm not quite sure why. Every year I ended up crying over something, or have a miserable feeling after the morning festivities. A miserable disappointment, I guess you could say.

Maybe it's my inability to be sated with material gifts. What's annoying is that by Christmas, I'm usually content with what I have. I don't really desire much that I'm not saving up for. It's the expectation that kills me. I expect something and emerge with nothing.

Oi, fuck Christmas. The best present I ever got was the Lego Monorail Transport Base. Ever since then, I don't think any gift has really produced or matched the same response.


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