MERRY CHRISTMAS

I have been experiencing a long bout of writer’s block. I know enough about writer’s block to know that when it happens, the best medicine is to just forget you’re a writer and just live life. I have done some of that. So forgive me if this is the worst thing you have ever read. Every time someone that respects me reads this they will think of me and shudder. This note isn’t carrying any greatness. Actually, if you love yourself, don’t read it. Go take a walk, drink some tea or take selfies with your loved ones.

It is Christmas day, tis the season for blah blah blah… Can’t remember the rest. I have been peer pressured by the season to write. Everyone is being reflective and sentimental in the blogsphere. I just saw a Christmas picture collection that made me feel like I am slacking. There is no internal pressure to celebrate the season. My family has never been the Christmas type. We don’t do the tree and the carols. I have one Christmas carol that I like and no, I will not be singing it; the most I will do is grin while people who can actually sing do the singing. Christmas is a nice day to oversleep, miss work and go braless. Accidentally I also cook a mean Christmas dinner and make the best everything, ever. *sound of own horn blowing*

Last Christmas at this exact time, I may not or may have been hang over, regretting that last tequila shot because I still have to cook Christmas dinner. I may or may not have been feeling pressurised to chill with a certain someone and his crew, I may have gone there and I may have had a nice time.

It has only been a year and I am already in a totally different space. I lost my milk teeth in 2015. Metaphorically, please keep up. I can’t say I am a baby anymore, in any sense of the word. Every single day I go deeper into the darkness and sometimes I wonder if I will reach a point where there isn’t any light left. That is why 2015 was the year I admitted that I can’t do this life thing by myself anymore. I got tired of trying to control everything and freaking out about the things I can’t control. So this year instead of a boyfriend I fell in love with being a Christian. If there is anyone who is perfect, that person isn’t me; I will probably even swear in the next paragraph. But Christ gives me a happiness I can’t explain. A calm that I need because I am a serial over thinker. And a confidence that is beyond current predicament. I am now super curious about where this whole life journey is going with this God who strengthens my hands for battle and teaches me how to war. I actually enjoy the concept of hard work now. I enjoy the concept of winning and losing. I appreciate people as individuals. I feel different. I feel lighter. Even when people can’t see it, the difference is there. 

I just got thrown off. So I no longer know what I am talking about. My annoying relative came to peer over my shoulder, asked what I am writing. Asked why I waste my time with writing. Asked what my plans are for 2016 and if I achieved any resolutions. I am here typing many words per minute, not looking up from my laptop and answering in monosyllables. Should I put a sign on my forehead to announce that I am a struggling writer trying to get my first December note in and I should not be disturbed? Some people have no sense of occasion.

Merry Christmas from this writer who can’t write. I stay amused by the atheists demanding Christmas presents or decorating their establishments. So it is okay to get financial gain from the season and not to acknowledge the reason? To me that sounds like chewing chicken and then spitting it out before it gives you nourishment because ‘you don’t believe in chicken’.  The chicken has been given! Believe and eat, let it nourish you!

Wow, typical Zambian, I had to throw in a chicken analogy. Hehe. Merry Christmas.