Feline Warrior

Ah, Chris Whitley… tellin’ it like it is.

So it’s 12:07 pm and I’m sitting here hoping my mom doesn’t come downstairs to find out why I’m still up. I don’t want anymore mothering today. I’m all caught up. I’m certainly old enough to stay up as late as I please.

On a related side note: Would SOMEONE please send me a laptop for Christmas? It should have wireless capabilities and have a decent amount of memory. With this laptop, I will be able to write to you, dear reader, any old time - early, late and in-between. Fearlessly.

Sad, isn’t it? I am begging people I might not even know to send me a damn laptop. (But just do it, okay?)

Things are going okay. I had a pleasant time shopping after work. Some presents for the above-mentioned mom, a few things for the spouse and a friend. Nothing -nothing!- for me. Hmph! It’s okay… I have more than I need. I actually really do like gift giving. (I really like the part where I get to make packages pretty.)

Here’s another tune:

One of you will call me cheesy. I care not: I am cheesy.
Anyway, I have continued to be cheery, singing Christmas carols, decorating the office and my home, either completely sucking it all in and maintaining a shiny pocket of denial or maybe being genuinely cheery.

Does it matter which, really?

Of course it matters. Truly, I think it’s a combination. An emotional value-pack, super-sized. Yeah, yeah. Bite-sized denial with a cheery dipping sauce. Yum.

I leave you with Nick Drake. He brings out my melancholy…

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Tags: chriswhitley, sarah mclachlan, nick drake, melancholy