This is the time of the year when I wish I was travelling. I'd much rather be in some foreign land, alone, during Christmas. That way I don't have to see all the fucking happiness going on. It drives me nuts.
Everywhere you go there are people wishing happiness on each other. In just a few days they'll be cursing and giving the finger to each other, but that's what the Christmas Spirit is all about: being fake to each other for about a month.. Sure, the lights are pretty and the crispy weather means you can wear your nice coat and snuggle up to someone warm, but I have neither a nice coat nor a snuggle friend so I'm left hanging out in the cold watching some cheap WalMart lighting blink on and off.
It's not pretty.
But I can manage being cocooned in all this psuedo-happiness. What drives me absolutely fucking insane though is the bloody Christmas music that every radio station deigns that it must play. Hey, Mister DeeJay, turn that shit off! I'm tuning into your rock station so I can hear rock music. I want to hear Metallica's Enter the Sandman and not Frosty The Snowman.
Seven days. I hope I'll make it.