Happy/Crappy

Strange... there is some really, really awesome news, and really good times, but also some
utterly depressing whining. So business as usual really. After waking at seven, eating chocolate, and then a breakfast of pink champagne and smoked salmon (Aunty's Xmas tradition #1), this may be somewhat incoherent. It was a lot of pink champagne.

First, and most pressing news alert can be that I can not breathe. My aunty has a cat. I am allergic to cats. They don't make me sneeze, although that may just be the constant antihistamine pill overdose I've been maintaining. No, cats give me asthma, which invariably develops into a horrible pneumonia type disease. I don't even have asthma, for gods' sake.

Next, and definitely most brilliant news, is that my cousin proposed to his girlfriend on Christmas Eve. As it was also her birthday, they all went out for a meal, and afterwards he popped the question. Definite cause for celebration there.

Now, as today is Christmas, I should say what presents and stuff I got. Lots of acrylic and oil paints, and brushes. Proper art supplies too, a nice step up from the usual stuff I buy from the remaindered book store. Although, of course, an 'investment' present which comes loaded with obligations. All I'm going to hear from my dad for the next few months will be, 'Have you done any painting?' There's no more certain way to destroy any chance I have of making anything worthwhile. I need to train my 'creativity' and 'inspiration' to be slightly less temperamental. And slightly less shy. If anybody takes an interest in what I do, or there is some obligation on me to create, then it fucks off, just to make me look stupid. The excuse of 'artistic temperament can only take you so far.
My other presents were £40 total from various relatives, an irregular pearl and garnet bracelet, and plenty chocolate. Oh, and some fluffy pink fairy lights. That's my room sorted,

We had an awesome Christmas dinner. My aunty didn't serve just a turkey. She served a partridge, in a pheasant, in a chicken, in a turkey. We each had a gift at our place setting. (Aunty's Xmas tradition #2) Most people got one of those alcohol miniatures gift sets. Mine is a little bottle of champagne and truffles. And I am finally allowed to drink more than one glass of wine, without parents breathing down my neck and suggesting that I am about to fall paraletic to the ground after my alloted three units of alcohol. After dinner, my aunty's husband (bear with me, this gets a bit surreal now) came in dressed as Robin (of Batman & Robin), and gave us each another present. (Aunty's Xmas tradition in the making) Him and aunty, his kids, and his wife's son and his new fiance got big shiny boxes, and they had to wait until we had opened our presents until they could open them. My gift was the Firefly box set. I have Firefly!!! Then the mysterious boxes were opened, and inside they got a piece of paper, informing them of their holiday to Florida this Easter. Of course, some shocked overjoyedness all round there. Holidays seem to be the new thing in gift giving. My brother's girlfriend is getting a week in New York for her eighteenth soon. This recession really is starting to bite...

So yes, everybody is happy. Even me. I just have caveats. Like unseemly rage, envy, and dissatisfaction. Spending time with smug rich people whose kids get more presents for one Xmas than I got in a whole year tends to do that. And now of course, they are all talking about Florida and Disneyland, and all the wonderful holidays they've been on, and the incredibly fabulous rich people they know, who have also done hundreds of wonderful things.
I will be spending tonight in an annexe room from my parents' hotel room, to get away from the cats. Sadly, being in hotels with my parents seems to bring out the worst, most childishly offensive parts of my already sullen personality. I hate it.

I have rediscovered my anger. Not the good, rage against injustice, type anger, but the snarl of the terminally bored and disatisfied, raging against nothing and everything in revenge for the person who I've turned into. I actually threatened to 'feckin' smack' my dad yesterday. I get my temper from him. And it's a horrible temper. I don't want to be horrible. Especially not on Christmas.

I've just watched Doctor Who, with a giant Cyberman. It was awesome. But then, we expect no less from the Doctor. Now we're waiting for something else worth watching on TV. I am hiding behind the sofa typing in an unsociable manner. It's that stage of Christmas where nobody can be bothered, the old people are watching Dancing on Strictly Soap Opera X-Factor Ice, and you realise that none of your presents have any immediate entertaainment value. I think I'll go find something to drink, and then watch the new Wallace and Gromit: Loaf and Death. Sounds suitably inoffensive and festive.