Thursday, December 18, 2008

Dreaming of a White Christmas

My last few posts have all been about "finding a man." Don't get me wrong, I do want to find one. Particularly a slightly burly, tallish, outdoorsy, physics nerd who dances and can't get enough of lame jokes; not that I am picky. But I've been writing about my quest for love mostly because its a frivolous topic; it is easy and it takes my mind off of some other things.

Like the fact that I've sent out over 100 resumes and still don't have a job. It's like college rejection letters all over again. (Dear Bowdoin, I still cry when I think about you...kisses!). I can't figure out why and I am sort of sick of dealing with it. In fact, my parents and I had one of our spats over this job hunt last week. I never fight with my parents. It's happened never. First of all they were divorce mediators before they retired which pretty much means my life is full of 'I feel' statements and their will not be yelling. The other part is that I hate confrontation. They're usually right, so why fight them. Problems arise in a couple of areas and it usually has to do with me feeling like I am failure, I am too embarrassed to tell my parents I've changed my mind, have applied to every job on the planet and no one will hire me, or that I am deeply depressed and feel its a character flaw (this one is rarely the case - its only happened once circa Mount Holyoke; Dear Bowdoin, thank you for that, you prick).

Last week, my parents tried to have an adult conversation about my job hunt and I just could not talk to them about it. So, we corrosponded via e-mail a bit and have come to the very mature decision that when I feel I can discuss the job hunt with them without feeling like an utter failure and loser than I shall bring it up on my own; but they are not to bring it up 'til then.

But more pressing than my lack of employment opportunities is the fact that I am utterly homesick. This is the first Christmas I have ever been away from my parents. And while Santa in summer wearing shorts and carrying a surf board hardly seems like the Christmases I am used to, it is still the holidays. I hate admitting that I am homesick. To me it feels like I am doubting the best choice I ever made in my whole life. I hate feeling vulnerable and weak. But I am so homesick. I know I am going to see my parents in a month(!), but that doesn't make the fact any easier that my brothers' and I have difficulty communicating across the pond, I miss lying on the floor in my living room with my dog, I won't be making gluten-free Christmas cookie disasters with my mom, I won't be feeding our horses and taking a ride in the snow, I won't be cooking the traditional Christmas Eve feast of the very Jewish Potato Latkes, nor the Christmas feast of the very Guatamalan bean loaf and homemade tortillas, and I won't be opening gifts from a stocking hanging from our woodstove named Ashley.

I will be creating new memories as I celebrate Christmas the Australia way with my friend Lauren and her family. I know they will be every bit as precious as the 22 Christmases I've celebrated with my own.

And on top of it all, I still need a man. Oy vey.


  1. I went through that like, 7 years ago, when I was 18 (don't calculate, i'm older than you. :P) and it was TORTURE. Hugs, gluten-free koala lover. (that didn't sound right).

    It must be really hard, but think about it this way, this is the first christmas you spend on your own, and creating traditions that you may pass on to your kids with Andy Roddick! You never know.

    Oh, and I DO NOT recommend you listen to Josh Groban's "I'll Be Home for Christmas".


    Don't do it.

  2. Tag, you're it:

  3. Demigod - Aw thanks. You're not *that* much older than me. Haha I'll do my best to avoid The Groban.

    Bridget - oooh, I am it!