Every year, for a few years now, I've been less than psyched that Christmas is coming. It's a holiday that lost it's magic for me along with my innocence, especially when I called my childhood best friend and she said she was dreading it, too. She was always the type of girl who had her own little tree- she had Christmas socks and plush Grinch toys. Forget the Advent calendar, at her house, the countdown started 24 hours after Halloween.
But now I'm an adult. I don't believe in Santa Claus, I don't make a wishlist. Instead, I fret over my checking account balance and hate receiving gifts because I'm always disappointed. I have to have two Christmases because my parents are divorced, unlike the first 15 year of my joyous, innocent little life. I try to brainstorm how to make a conversation with the family I haven't seen since last year. My bank statement indicates that last January I over drafted more than once. You're welcome, Bank of America. Even my first ever Eve of the Eve party ended poorly. Christmas is even worse when you're hung over.
This year things are different. I'm forcing myself to get in the holiday spirit, whether I like it or not. I'm literally watching as many Christmas movies as I possibly can, i.e. Christmas Movie Madness. I need to remember the joy of giving and selflessness, that this is a season of love and kindness not stress and sadness.
So far, I've seen You're A Mean One Mr. Grinch, Love Actually, Die Hard, Miracle on 34th Street and White Christmas. I'll let you know how it goes.
