Time flies when your life is falling apart
“The girls are down at Ruby’s
Trying to find some Christmas cheer
There’s not much to do but drink too much
When every day’s unclear.”— Melissa Etheridge, “Christmas in America”
I have no reason to be depressed this year. I mean, I *DO* but honestly, the things I never took for granted in the first place are even more special this year.
In the six years I’ve had my job, it’s never felt safe. You’d think being part of a 50-year-old business would come with some security.
But then the job I had last year got yanked away and transformed — first in a bad way (i.e., department, team and satellite office eliminated), then a good way (i.e., idiot new boss tossed out, I got promoted) … and then in a REALLY bad way (i.e., new department and new job eliminated). And then a new job appeared out of those ashes.
And then the apartment I never loved anyway was about to get sold out from under me … and then the landlord turned out to be a nice guy and he let me keep it through the holidays.
And the car I’ve been looking to replace broke the fuck down on the highway … but a wonderful tow truck driver and mechanic made Stewie better (and in one day’s time).
And while good health still eludes my mom and now my cat, they are both still here.
Every day is unclear, indeed. But if ever I took a minute of my good fortune for granted, I officially know better than to be the slightest bit ungrateful about what I *don’t* have because I *do* have so, so much to be thankful for.
Someone at work was asking me why I don’t talk about dating. And I explained the way I always have, that you’ll know when something amazing is happening. I don’t share anything less.
She was shocked I was so matter-of-fact and wholly uninterested in the topic. I said when you get to my age (which is old in my field — they only want the young kids who will work for no wages whatsoever), you’ve waited so long that what’s another year or 10.
I told her about my (smart, truly) friend who gets mixed up with one loser after the next. They abuse her mentally and/or physically, they take her money, they make her feel like shit … and she doesn’t leave. And when she DOES walk the fuck out … she just finds another loser to fill the void.
Not that I have any judgment in me, because I don’t where she’s concerned, but I avoid all that. You want someone to abuse and treat like an ATM? Bye, Furrlicia.
I am proud that I was able to take care of my Momma as best I could. Sure, I wasted money along the way and should have been more responsible and planful. But overall, we’ve had a fun, good life together.
Wasn’t what I envisioned when I was younger. But much better than babysitting some doofus and faking some orgasms to get his sweaty, hairy ass off of me faster. And then having to divorce him for voting against Hillary and then having to find a new home untainted by his stupidity and then losing half my 401(k) on top of it. Fuck dat.
In any event, the world is a big fat flaming pile of shit right now. But time flies when your life — when the country and the entire universe — is falling apart.
Might as well love what you’ve got instead of missing what you’ve never known. Who knows if it will still be there next quarter, let alone next year.
At least December brings the hope and spirit of Santa Claus. Even though there’s not a present to be found under our tree that you can see, I can say a full heart is eleventy billion times better than a cluttered floor.
Happy birthday, Jesus. Even though I am pretty sure you were born in the spring and that you aren’t exactly a Caucasian hippie, I love you today and every day just the same. Thanks for the real presents. Wish I had something to give you other than my worries and thanks. But I’m grateful that, if you’re the kind of guy (or gal) I think you are, that’s exactly what you’d want.