Post-Holiday Stress Syndrome

In one week we can finally say good-bye to 2008, a year which had some sour (i.e. The MEMPHIS opening-night party) and some sweet (i.e. graduation, job…for the moment) memories. Still, I’ll lean it to the side of sweet only for the fact that I feel like I did what I said I’d do after school: plant seeds for future growing. Now that the seeds are planted, I’ve done an entry level job for close to a year, and we have a President who isn’t a dingus, I look forward to the year of 2009, where I watch a garden bloom.

What always strikes me as being so weird is how stressful the time after the holidays are. I got most people LJP S.W.A.G. this year (because I just looked it up and I am officially living below the poverty level) and got it early, so not really stressed about that. I didn’t travel and working on Christmas wasn’t too bad. By too bad, I mean it was a lot of fun to serve the XANADU cast Christmas dinner and sit around playing Martin’s werewolf game while we all got drunk. But now comes the stressful points: XANADU closes, XANADU leaves, we have a new cast arriving within 3 days of the old one’s departure, Sara’s moving down, Sara’s moving in, SARA’S COMING TO SAN DIEGO (Hooray!), then there is New Year’s Eve, and the BRONX play reading, and then finding a steady support of income.

Charlie Brown, quit hogging all the goddamn paper bags for once and send it my way.

Pre-holidays are nothing; post-holidays are everything. Perhaps I put new much equity into the start of a new year. After all, it’s nothing but a new puppy calendar on my wall, a simple changing of numbers and days. But I do get hopeful…thinking about the possibilities…I always say my life is never truly boring and each year, looking back at the time spent during the last 365 days, that adage always proves true. And like I said, 2009…it’s gonna be fine. Mainly, because when the Chinese New Year starts it’s the year of the Ox. Guess who’s an Ox, bitches?

Right now, the only sad thing I can think of is this picture. After years of hearsay and slander, of papers chanting that “this is Coney Island’s last summer”, and of numerous deus ex machina like saves, Coney Island has closed.



So really, we can’t get worse than that.

(P.S. My Blanket Top 10 List is coming, but I still have to see Benjamin Button and all its glory)