Another Christmas with Shirley and her family, although this time Bill’s family came down as well. I spent Christmas Eve night and Christmas day at their house, partaking in the Christmas experience with those who believe in the importance of such a ritual.
We were wrapping presents (from “Santa”) until midnight on Christmas Eve. The tree must have been raised the two feet off the ground to fit everything underneath. Negotiations went on through the night as to what time to wake up, but the kids woke us up at 6:30 anyway. Looking back on the pictures of 2005, you can tell how much they’ve grown in just two years.
Loads more pictures behind the cut.
Continue reading “Christmas Observer ’07″…
I’m already in holiday mode. Sure, I have one day of work left — Monday — but my brain has checked out. I even took the day off yesterday and made it a long weekend because I have extra vacation days left, and they can’t be carried forward.
This is how I spend most of my time nowadays: on my new chaise lounge from EQ3, with a mug of tea by my side, in a generally unkempt manner. Unshaven, with the flourish of a cowlick in my hair.
Last year, in which I declared that Christmas is dead, I stayed home out of spite, not directed at anyone but myself. This year, I’ve decided to go to Shirley’s for Christmas Eve and Christmas, and Pat and Jen’s for New Year’s.
But there’s a stretch of a several days in between in which I have no plans. Even though it’ll be a chance for me to do some extra writing, work on my photo projects, maybe even relax a bit, part of me wishes I was busy like everyone else.
I know I don’t have anything to complain about. I’m lucky enough to be spending the “important” days with friends who are important to me. I’m even lucky enough to have a choice of where to go. But I know that during the stretch, when other people has somewhere to be, somewhere to go, I’ll feel somewhat forlorn. They’ll have a place where they belong.
Maybe I’ll belong here, at home alone, on this wonderful chaise.
My dad called. After 14 months without contact.
Not that I wasn’t expecting it. He e-mailed me two weeks ago (flagged with the little red exclamation point to note that it was important), telling me that he was having a party on New Years. “Can you come and join us?”, it said.
Is he dating now, I wondered. Married?
I sat on this e-mail, unsure of what to say. A little while before this, Merv struck up a conversation with me about fishing. I told him I used to go to this one fishing spot at a lift-lock in Peterborough with my dad, and it made me wonder what I would say if I ever talked to him again. He didn’t even know me when we were on speaking terms, how would he know me now? I’ve changed so drastically in the last year.
We never left things off on bad terms. We just stopped talking to each other, so there wasn’t any animosity, on my part, at least. I never contacted him because I never felt like it, and I was expecting years to go by before he contacted me.
Then he called on the weekend. It took me by surprise. I thought e-mail was a way for him to stay distant, while fulfilling the minimum parental responsibility. I had guests over and was entertaining and somewhat charged up. He started talking to me in Chinese, and I could only reply in English. It was too much for my mind, and I was too much on my guard. So I told him to call me next week.
And he did.
Continue reading “Papa Was A Rolling Stone”…
A few portraits of Meghan. Her big eyes and waif-like figure give her something of an innocent look, while the dress and labret balances this out with a bit of an edge. Very appealing, in my books. Makes you wonder which part is more true of her.
Continue reading “Portaits of Meghan”…
I’ve come to realize that as much as I’ve grown and gained, I still seek approval from others, albeit to a much smaller extent than before. This approval is how I define my self worth.
It’s an old, bad habit.
I can trace this habit back to my parents. I would always do things to try to win their approval, only to be met with a comment about not being good enough, or unsupportive silence. Their constant criticism led to low self-esteem and feelings of inadequacy. Yet another example of how they mindfucked me.
At this point, it’s just a knee-jerk reaction. Remnants of my old, insecure self creeping up. I know that one day, I’ll be able to break the habit completely.
Until then, I have to remind myself that it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks of you.