I'm depressed about Christmas.
I know I should just be happy the baby Jesus was born and everything.
Shepherds, Wise Men.
But let's face it....that aspect of the holiday doesn't really have much of a hold on me.
As far as I'm concerned - I celebrate a pagan holiday of merriment, egg nog, electric lights, tinsel, Rudolph, Santa, Heat Miser, The Bumble Snowman, and Yukon Cornelius.
And this year I go into this holiday broke.
No cards, no presents.
And that makes me sad.
The whole season - just a reflection of all the things I can't do for my friends and family -- the same people who time and time again are able to do so much for me.
The metaphor here should be something like a little ragged urchin pressing his dirty face against the bright window of some 1950s uber-perfect Macy's-esque Christmas display. Toy trains and aeroplanes. Elves and bed-wetting dolls. Gingerbread houses and shiny, metallic bulbs. Holly Jolly. Burl Ives.
And it's cold outside.
My holiday this year is going to be a little closer to The Apartment than Christmas Carol.
It's just overwhelming and kinda sad.
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