Finally, I am feeling the holiday spirit. Warmth and joy are filling me up, I feel way less tense and depressed than before, and I am looking forward to Xmas day and opening my prezzies from my family and all that good stuff.

Plus, dinner with Joe’s family on Christmas Day. Turkey turkey TURKEY. (Protip : I love turkey!)

I’ve got my Xmas gifts from two of my roomies. Well, sort of. Joe has assured me that he ordered a bunch of shirts for me from my ancient Cafe Press store.

Warning, the layout is a tad crude. But I designed all those shirts and whatnot myself, many a moon ago. The idea was that it would be an outlet for my comedy writing skillz and a way to make some cash.

But like all of my creative projects so far, it failed utterly due to my complete inability to promote myself. Well, and the fact that my graphic skills are below primitive.

And I got a little too into the funky font thing. My dear friend Felicity could probably have done a better job. Now and then I tell myself that I should start over and keep things simple. See what sort of style the most popular stuff uses and try a close variant of that for my funny, funny words.

In other words, totally copy their style then file the serial numbers off. Hey, I am not a visual artist, I am a wordsmith. When it comes to the visuals, I have no style, no pride, and no artistic integrity.

Whatever gets people to buy my stuff is fine by me. I would really, really, really love to be able to earn my living, or at least some cash. Earning income would vastly improve my self-image and do wonders for my depression due both to that and just plain being able to buy nice things for myself and make me feel way less restricted and limited and cramped up inside.

The real prescription for my depression would be money, as is true for a lot of poor folks. Living on $8k/year is just plain depressing on its own. I bet if I had even a minimum wage standard of living, I would be less than half as depressed as I am now.

Sadly, the usual way to get one of those is to work a minimum wage job, and I am not capable of that, for I am disabled. And for the crime of being unable to work, society has decided that I deserve only barely enough money to live on.

After all, we don’t want people who can’t work to be happy. We just want to make sure they don’t die, because that would make us feel bad.

But happiness without work? Perish the thought!

Um. But back to holly jolly thoughts!

I guess along with the Xmas spirit, I am also feeling a little holiday blues. The holiday is very consumerist, after all, in addition to being able family and friends and goodness.

Oh right, I don’t get the family or friends thing, either. Riiight. Geez, no wonder this holiday is so fraught with peril for me. It sucks to be a sentimental sensitive soul like me with none of the usual ways to celebrate the day available to me. Le sigh!

But like I said before, I refuse to cynically reject Christmas just because it has not had much for me in it for a while. Some day I will have a family of my own to share it all with, and I see no reason to reject it when I fully plan on embracing it wholeheartedly again some day.

For now, I drift between embracing it the best I can, and enduring it.

I get the feeling that a lot of people feel the same way about it.

I suppose to start a friend, I will at least need a boyfriend, or ideally, a husband. (What can I say, I am a monogamy minded person. I want a man I can devote myself to, and who in return spoils and indulges me. Transient romance is very nice, I suppose, but I want something that endures. )

And that would involve meeting a lot more frogs to find my prince, and by “a lot more” I mean “any”, because right now, my entire dating world presence is a few profiles on a few dating sites that have completely failed to generate much of a response, probably because they are all wordy and weird.

But hey, “wordy” and “weird” are two of my primary personality traits. If they can’t handle that, we probably will not get along anyhow.

Or at least, that is what I tell myself. I admit, I have played with the idea of creating a totally bogus dating persona called “HorseHungBillionaire” and seeing how many people respond, but I am not quite that cynical. I would feel bad about getting people’s hopes up, even if they are vain, shallow, pathetic people who lack the common sense to wonder why someone like that would be on a dating site.

Fun to think about, though. Get a public domain image of a super hot guy. Write a profile where he’s just a lonely poor little rich boy looking for someone to rescue from their shitty lives and turn into a modern prince. “But you have to be able to handle my ten inch cock… ”

OK, I admit it. The evilness of my mind scares me a little sometimes. I am sure glad that I am a basically very nice and caring person and so I would never do some of the things my wicked and devious brain cooks up. I just think the bad thoughts, enjoy them, and then… put them away.

Intellectually, this is, I admit, a little like the guy with a million guns who polishes them all the time but keeps assuring people he would never, ever use them on anyone.

Not while there’s still other options open to them….

Happy Christmas and a Merry New Year, people!