I'm always completely astounded when I look back, whether it be something like a myspace message, tarnished with immaturity, or just a simple memory. I've been blogging for over a year now, though I'm not sure if that means anything to me. I don't feel as if I have reached some sort of significant point in time, but it gives me a minuscule sense of accomplishment. I wasn't sure that I would be able to keep it up.
On another note, being home has been a strange experience. I've been working 9+ hour days at Nordstrom, so I haven't had to deal with it all that much, but when I do have to... I don't even know. Being on break has been like reliving feelings of imprisonment and a thirst for independence. This unfortunate situation has not supplied me with an excess of holiday cheer.
Last night (Christmas Eve), I got off work around 6 and was greeted by my entire family in the car. The dysfunction was saturating the air so much that I could hardly breathe. We had decided to open gifts because my mother would be working in the morning. If I didn't feel like an outcast to begin with, the gifts I receive leave me questioning if anyone of my family members understand who I am. Instead of leaving it up to others, I need to be more assertive in suggesting gifts to be given to me. I'm sure I sound like an unappreciative brat and I may well be, but I can't help but to feel wasteful accepting gifts I do not want.
On this fine Christmas day, I've spent most of my time in bed. I slept in for the first time in months, which was a wonderfully indulgent experience. Since waking up, I've spent my time on the computer either watching movies/tv or reading my favorite blogs. I'm still wearing the same clothes I slept in. Isolating myself seems to be the only thing that will keep me sane. Dinner will be ready soon. Hopefully, I will have the strength to bear it.
Happy holidays.
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