christmassy bullshit

Yesterday was a day of rumination, which does not bode well for exciting blogging. 

 

In the morning, I bought a little bag of fancy white chocolate disks at the coffee shop/baking supply store to finish off one of my friend's Christmas presents (she already has a little bundle of knitting stuff and a sticker). On Monday I plan to go to the post office and buy an array of small boxes in which I can mail away Christmas presents. On Tuesday I plan to stop at the Christmas Tree Store (??? they do not have these in Iowa) on my way home from work and investigate the possibility of wrapping paper and ribbons. I still need to acquire my dad's gift, half of my maternal grandma's gift, my nephew's gift, one friend's gift, small things for one aunt and another friend, and make three other gifts (pastries and a Christmas card design). 

 

I do not like that my whole life is currently consumed by this nonsense, but it will be over soon, and hopefully next December I will have more money and less anxiety so it will be less of a situation.

 

I've been late to work A LOT recently -- never extravagantly so, but two days ago I was ten minutes late and yesterday I was thirteen minutes late. A coworker informed me that "this will catch up to me." I am feeling a bit grim about this. 

meta dreaming

A thought I had:

A lot, if not all, of my rumination boils down to "I HAVE EXTREMELY LIMITED ABILITY TO SELF-COMFORT OR SELF-VALIDATE. PLZ HALP"

Soooo. . . does working out how I feel and why I feel that way in detail have much value? Should I just skip to "hey, I feel bad, can someone tell me something kind?"

I do not know the answer to this thing.

***

A thing I am working on:

How can I crystallize my self-comfort fantasies into a form that is reusable and sturdy?

Some of the difficulty is that part of the pleasure of an escape dream is its infinite, fuzzy potential. It can contain within it all beautiful things, even those which are geometrically impossible or geographically unlikely. 

But that fuzziness is itself somewhat dangerous, because Treachery Shit Brain can warp even the nicest dream into a story about how I am a crap human and do not deserve good things.

I am considering. 

The dream of the day, which I have not quite tacked down, is what it would be like to be the sort of person who had a Proper Reason to buy a lot of nice things from [large box store where I work] (instead of being me, who buys 1 bag salad or 1 box of 900 cookies at a time).

Example: what might a person do with a big box of pears??? Maybe make a fancy tart. Maybe make TWO fancy tarts, for a PARTY. What about a massive bag of coffee beans? Perhaps this mythical person has a transient espresso machine that travels from closet to closet throughout the city. Maybe they have dozens of international guests every year, and they make each one of them a breakfast cappucino. 

(There's only one real Proper Reason, isn't it, and that's because one belongs to a whole network of people who need nourishing -- )