What is it about the holiday season that reminds you just how much your family can drive you to an extreme state of mental and emotional exhaustion? Yeah, sure, there's the Hallmark aspect, full of love, joy and merriment, but I'm going to call bull if you tell me it's like that all. the. time.
I grew up with an older brother. We were close in age, being only 14 months apart. Naturally, sibling rivalry developed, lines were drawn and there have been plenty of times I didn't hold back in throwing a punch. Finally, we parted ways and packed some miles between us when he moved to college. It was a blessing, seriously. Aside from not having to share a bathroom — Hallelujah! — the pressure to be "better"didn't seem so omnipresent. But now, when he comes home from his hot shot job in Chicago, my status as an unemployed college graduate, living at home is highlighted ever more in the eyes of my parents. God, help me now.
My brother has been home for less than 24 hours and I've already found the desire to stick a fork in my eye, jump off a bridge to a rocky death and hash it out on this blog. Oh, you think I'm kidding...I'm not, that's why I'm on here.
As this holiday season drags on, I can only imagine where my angst will take me. The Christmas party slated for tomorrow is already marked with a red flag as I brace myself for the question I've grown to hate, "What are you doing now," — or any other variation. The sassy side of me will answer, "Just dickin' around," or "Nothing. I'm freeloading," but whether or not that side will attend, is a fate yet unknown. It'll also be a hard fight to keep her from surfacing as I get sassier with increased frustration.
So, call me bitter, call me a Grinch, call me someone who is sick of the comparisons, because I'm over it. I may not have a job (yet) and I sure as heck don't have a retirement plan, but I can do some pretty damn amazing things and I think I'm a pretty kickass person, regardless of your opinions or bank statement.
Sincerely,
Cybill
As this holiday season drags on, I can only imagine where my angst will take me. The Christmas party slated for tomorrow is already marked with a red flag as I brace myself for the question I've grown to hate, "What are you doing now," — or any other variation. The sassy side of me will answer, "Just dickin' around," or "Nothing. I'm freeloading," but whether or not that side will attend, is a fate yet unknown. It'll also be a hard fight to keep her from surfacing as I get sassier with increased frustration.
So, call me bitter, call me a Grinch, call me someone who is sick of the comparisons, because I'm over it. I may not have a job (yet) and I sure as heck don't have a retirement plan, but I can do some pretty damn amazing things and I think I'm a pretty kickass person, regardless of your opinions or bank statement.
Sincerely,
Cybill
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