...What did you expect?
I have nearly finished compiling my bibliography for this beastly essay, which seems to take as long as the actual writing process will.
Christmas was had. I wasn't feeling especially festive this year at all. I can see the signs of last year's January black dog reoccurring. This was not helped with my rents asking questions about my future that I can't answer. I have no idea what's happenning with the chaplaincy assistants job, I don't know which master course I'm going to be on, and no, I don't know where I will be living come next July. It just made me panic more. Christmas eve and Boxing day were horrid little episodes where I tried to stop myself from crying all the time, and I had the anxious knot on my chest like I couldn't breathe. The only time it lifted was at Midnight Communion, where Dad and I had our yearly competition to see who could sing the loudest. I wish I knew the proper soprano or alto parts to complement all the parts Dad learnt when he was in the choir. It did sound lovely.
I managed to be on my best behaviour on Christmas Day, being first down, and surprisingly cheery. This is most likely to do with the lovely soppy texts Tom was sending me on Christmas Eve. They reminded me that there's more to live for that mere career things. Soon I shall renounce it all and be the spinning weaving painting artist on a farm somewhere I've always wanted to be. With some sheeps. And a Tom. Hopefully. Anyway, the Day itself went well, I curled up in front of my Auntie and Uncle's new stove in their new living, having decamped there from my Gran's for lunch. I played with babies and Barbies and was throughly gifted. My favourite presents were the awesome snuggly dressing gown from my rents, the red pijamas from my grandparents,( *) the anime picture of me and my sister's the littlest sister drew, and the fleecy hoodie the next sister down gave me. When we had finished eating the traditional turkey et all I enjoyed a phone call all the way from France from Tom, despite loosing the signal out in the sticks every five minutes and then went back to my Gran's to watch Love Actually. Which I did in my snuggly dressing gown, and managed to finish Tom's gloves. They are now wrapped up and in his stocking.
Getting back to mine last night was a relief, as the heat and manic-ness at my Gran's was making me feel a bit loopy. I had a huge cry and snotted into lots of hankies. I also tried to find a home for all my new stuff, and assembled the big mirror my rents had also bought me. Really I wanted to phone Tom and cry at him, but I thought that would make me a little too dependant on him, and probably make him feel miserable too. So I didn't. I tried not to think about my essay, had an earlish night for me, and got some good sleep.
Today I was out of bed by ten, went shopping for goodies with Mr. Hunt, my new honourary brother, and have sat here for the rest of the day, collating information. That sounds terribly productive, n'eh? I hope so. I actually feel like I'm in the position to write something, and blogging this has got me into the typing mood, which is what I hoped it would do. Please please please let me have written 2000 words by the time I go to bed tonight. And then I will write 2000 tomorrow. Before the lovely Tom comes home. Then I get to do Christmas with him.
Oh the lovely Tom. It's been very nice this season of talking to family to be able to talk about lovely things I've done with this lovely man. It's nice to be with someone who seems to actually want me around, just as I am. *does a few carthwheels in her head because she can't do them in real life*
* the red pjs are size 8 - 10 and they fit me. They may be of the cotton jersey variety, and slightly stretchy, but fitting into them brings me an insubordiate amount of joy. Must remember to do another 100 sit ups tonight. When I have written 2000 words.