All I want for Christmas is you

I was told by my brother-in-law that I "better do some baking" for Christmas this year, though I do believe I've baked at least one cream cheese sugar cookies every year in the past few years anyways. So I'm exhausted but I'm baking some damn cookies, along with some cupcakes. But watch, I'll bring my slaved over baked goods to Christmas and they probably won't get eaten because there will already be too many baked goods that were already baked by my sister and said BIL. This is what happened for Thanksgiving anyways. I swear going to culinary school was the dumbest decision of my life, if only because I'm always expected to bake (from scratch obviously), and of course bake well...and I know when people are lying to me about how tasty something I've made is. Really there is no need to rave over something that I know only tastes mediocre at best. Well, I'm tired and I don't want to bake anymore, I just want to watch Felicity.

Me being the only one in the house who is required to work the day prior to and following the Christmas holiday, it has been rather lonely in the house, especially after a couple weeks spent crafting and decorating and listening to Christmas classics together in our cozy home. At least I have the cats for company. I was in a decent spirit too until the other day, it just isn't the same baking alone. I don't even want to go home for Christmas, if it wasn't for the food I'd opt out. Yeah, I'm feeling a little -funk-ey (not the good kind). Fujipants comes on friday though and we'll party it up, then I'll be in Duluth with family again. Haha, I was just thinking back to Thanksgiving and having a conversation with my stepmum about my eldest sister, who is kinda crazy and childish, and how they had this spat last year. Anyways, she was saying if it is so torturous for my sister to come home, why does she continue to do it, then went on to say that she knows my sister adores my Dad. I almost spit my wine out as I'm not certain that any of us children would put adoration in the pot of feelings that we have towards our father, especially knowing my sister's aversion for going to "the farm". I mean, we pretty much all have the same shallow relationship and resulting uncomfortable feelings when it comes to 'ol Pa, but whatever, I guess if my stepmum wants to be delusional about the man she loves that is her perogative. Unfortunately I'll be the only one of his spawn to grace the table on the actual day of Christmas and therefore I won't as easily be able to melt into my surroundings and avoid any of those questions that may come up about my pathetic life.

Well, I received confirmation that the JET program did in fact receive my application, and I should find out towards the end of January if I get an interview. I thought my chances were decent until I was reading some FAQs that a former JET had written up in which he stressed the importance of having a good GPA (like 3.3) if you want to get accepted. Well, mine was like 2.9, not that hot. He also said that only a quarter to a half of applicants get in! I knew I wasn't a shoe-in, but I thought my chances were slightly better than that, good grief, I'm screwed.

moody

I feel ill, self induced by over-eating and over-drinking no doubt. I nominate myself for "roll of the day".

Well, I do believe I have officially stopped thinking about anything of any importance. I have, however, obsessed lately over cat urine and holiday crafting. I also have a pathetic tale to tell for your reading pleasure...

Yesterday being the arrival of recently posted about young man, I did not hesistate to get sloshed out of my mind last night. I had been assigned the task of making a birthday cake for our volunteer, George (Charlie Kaufman's father-in-law). First of all the cake did not turn out at all, it wasn't moist and cake like at all, it was dense and dry, not sure if it was the recipe or a mistake on my end. So, I figured oh well, popped on some Elliot Smith (fit my mood) and frosted and decorated it regardless, whilst throwing back a couple brews. I proceeded to text my drinking buddy Mike because otherwise I feared that I would show up at the bar that I knew -he- was going to be at thanks to the evil that is facebook listening to a band that I legitimately enjoy so it wouldn't be totally unusual that I would be there. As much as I wanted to show up drunk and emotional and see him with his beloved and his friends that I used to hang out with and probably make an enormous ass of myself I thankfully decided that would be a poor decision. I needed a distraction. By the time my roomies came home though we started crafting and listening to Christmas tunes and I was feeling content, but Mike got back to me and was willing to drink. Since I was already four beers in when he picked me up, it didn't take much to thoroughly drown away any negative emotions I may have been feeling. It was just what I needed, but I feel pathetic for even still caring. I guess I'm not used to people cutting me out of their lives, period, but definitely not for no discernable reason. I mean, not to toot my own horn but I'm pretty well liked by those who get to know me. I think Not a Girl, Not yet a Wino says it best here..

"That even when not riding the church train, we owe people something more in this life. You can try to run from it, you can say that not calling her the day after a drunken lickfest is the way that people do it. But it isn’t the way you or I or we should be doing it. And this isn’t preaching. Plain and simple, it reeks of an era when we didn’t walk upright and beating your hairy chest wasn’t something done as a post-coital joke. You owe something more to the people who you choose to let into your life. Give them anything less than your best and you’re cheating yourself – screw the him or her you’ve known for a month – of the opportunity to be something more than the guy next to you at the bar who drinks Bud bottles* and avoids his wife’s repeated cell calls."

I have a flaw, or perchance a strength, or some combination thereof, of often thinking too highly of people or not doubting their motives enough. I also think in so many shades of gray that I can justify most sides to a conflict especially in regards to human emotions. In any case, I didn't expect to be treated so poorly, because I hope people would give their best, and that when they inevitable fail, that they do their best to correct the wrong. Of course I'm certain I need to work on this myself.

It doesn't help that I was quite fond of him and I -thought- he felt the same and nobody has piqued my interest in quite the same way since, not that I've really been looking. Jenni, however, has set forth a goal for me to give the f**k me eyes to the next dude that interests me, which is so not my style of being socially awkward and trying to avoid eye contact at all costs. It also really really sucks to be hurt and deal with that pain, and sometimes I think I may be fine just thinking about cat pee rather than obsessing over a man or getting involved in something that will more likely fail than succeed.

That said I obviously could sure use a date, geez, two lengthy posts on something that I barely have talked to my closest friends about. Not to mention I should be so over it by now.

Must nap now.