I'm tired of Christmas and it's only December 9th. Miracle on 34th Street makes more sense in the actual, literal context of New York City, where Christmas is everywhere and wholly insincere. It's a marketing scheme, that even Macy's embraces by putting a giant lighted, "Believe," in Herald Square in November.
Believe in what? Tourism?
I'm jaded. I also haven't liked Christmas for years. Sometimes, I want to. I want to decorate and do for others I care about, but my efforts never seem to go the way I think they will, so, I stopped.
It's snowing today, which makes it both better and worse. It's giant, sappy Christmas movie snowflakes because this city is so humid in the wintertime. I know the answer to this is to feel however I feel and be OK with that. Expectations and I have a weird relationship: some of them I arbitrarily care about very much.
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