Just Another Holiday
The end of the American Thanksgiving celebrations seems to put everyone into a tailspin for the next series of holiday celebrations. Suddenly, New York City is back to its cheery holiday mood. The shop windows are all dressed in the holiday colors and there is that obvious chill in the air. Then there's the shopping and the many dinners/lunches to schedule with friends. Yet the world doesn't stop - I have too much in my plate to take in any more even just for the reason of celebrating something I just celebrated last year.
I am still undecided on what to do this year – if I am traveling to see my parents or if opting to stay home in New York will be more reasonable and less stressful. Work has become crazy the past weeks and until the last minute I have been terrorizing my travel agent with more changes to my itinerary. I am amazed that the brave woman still bothers to take my phone calls. As per our last talk this afternoon, she has given me a strict deadline to get ticketed by the end of the month (which happens to be this coming Friday, 3 days away) or lose my reservations altogether.
I would drop the world in a second to fly back home and indulge in the love of family anytime. It was always great to look forward to weeks of slowing down the pace and of just kicking back and relaxing. Perhaps it is a process of growing up but the priorities are now screwed up. No matter how the immense the amount of mental debate I undertake, I keep coming up with the wrong mindset that staying in New York and hashing out the urgent demands at work as more important. To sit idle on a plane for more than 15 hours each way has become an awful nightmare for my constantly double-booked self. And frankly, yes, I love this life of crazed pace. It makes me feel so alive!
I have addressed four boxes of Christmas cards and the stamps are attached, they’re just waiting for their mailbox drop date. I am wrapping up whatever work already is on my desk with the assumption that I am leaving. I have shopped for the gifts to bring home. And yet the Christmas decors for my apartment are out, deciding if they are going up. Mentally, I am not yet in December but more like April. Is it a sign of age to lose my glee for what was once my most favorite season of the year? Perhaps I'd even dare to say that at this point even the idea of Christmas has lost its meaning on me.
I am still undecided on what to do this year – if I am traveling to see my parents or if opting to stay home in New York will be more reasonable and less stressful. Work has become crazy the past weeks and until the last minute I have been terrorizing my travel agent with more changes to my itinerary. I am amazed that the brave woman still bothers to take my phone calls. As per our last talk this afternoon, she has given me a strict deadline to get ticketed by the end of the month (which happens to be this coming Friday, 3 days away) or lose my reservations altogether.
I would drop the world in a second to fly back home and indulge in the love of family anytime. It was always great to look forward to weeks of slowing down the pace and of just kicking back and relaxing. Perhaps it is a process of growing up but the priorities are now screwed up. No matter how the immense the amount of mental debate I undertake, I keep coming up with the wrong mindset that staying in New York and hashing out the urgent demands at work as more important. To sit idle on a plane for more than 15 hours each way has become an awful nightmare for my constantly double-booked self. And frankly, yes, I love this life of crazed pace. It makes me feel so alive!
I have addressed four boxes of Christmas cards and the stamps are attached, they’re just waiting for their mailbox drop date. I am wrapping up whatever work already is on my desk with the assumption that I am leaving. I have shopped for the gifts to bring home. And yet the Christmas decors for my apartment are out, deciding if they are going up. Mentally, I am not yet in December but more like April. Is it a sign of age to lose my glee for what was once my most favorite season of the year? Perhaps I'd even dare to say that at this point even the idea of Christmas has lost its meaning on me.