So I’m sitting in an altogether unfamiliar computer right now, without spellcheck I might add, writing the first of what I’m surprised isn’t the fiftieth post-London blogs. I haven’t been able to really bring myself to write about any of my reverse-homesickness blues, as few as those moments have been. But nonetheless, despite all outward appearances being pretty normal, I do feel a few pangs of longing every now and again, but it’s just not something I feel like sharing right now.

Happy Birthday Blog. Or around here somewhere. It might have been a couple of days ago or something, but I do seem to remember starting this blog around the same time last year.. I was full of wit and mirth back then. I think.

I probably wasn’t in fact. Around this time of year I get pretty depressed, as a lot of people do. Christmas usually makes people think of  good times with family and exchanging gifts, and all I can seem to think  about  is the fedex guy who gets stuck with the Christmas shift. What a lousy life to want to work then, right? But then I remember that this will have been the first christmas that I haven’t worked in a long time. I usually am that guy.

I think Christmas makes me feel guilty somehow. Guilty for spending it with two wonderful families (each in their own very specific way), and I never feel exactly deserving of it.Where do I get off? I’m mostly selfish, and not really that wonderful of a person the rest of theyear, but somehow I find myself surrounded with love on this great day. And all I can do is be depressed about it.

I’m a mess around winter. I need to get drunk.