December 21, 1998.

Today I went shopping and it was great.

I was depressed about the whole thing last night, of course. I couldn't figure out who to drag along with me. Then I decided to swallow my bile & call Scherezade. And it was cool. Old-stylee wolverine shopping, the kind we perfected on Yonge Street last year when I was supposed to be in Short Story class. Last week I made a conscious decision not to worry about my finances, and I haven't given the matter a moment's thought since. This is a rather necessary step for me, since I have no income as such this year, and am living on a fixed parental amount. I'm not hurting, I'm just not in a position to spend water like money. Oh, damn it, the other way 'round.

You know.

But who cares. It's Christmas. Instead of trying to figure out who I should get a gift for & how much, I'm just snagging stuff as I see it. Less bothersome. I had the most ideas for the Boy, of course - not only do I have a pretty good idea what'll make him eyes light up, I also have a very strong inclination to make such a thing happen. I had to set an upper limit there. Everybody else gets stuff from the comic book shop, no exceptions. That's just how it worked out this year, loves. Maybe it's because I like dropping a lot of money at the Snail, and I can never justify it at any other time of year. Prolifigate spender, that's me. Ho ho ho.

Yesterday we went up to my cousin's spread up north. He owns more than ten consolidated businesses, and they do quite well for him...resulting in a very nice spread indeed. It's nicer in the summer when the pool's going, but there are a lot of games and such to keep you distracted in the winter. Took the Boy (mostly to visit their airhockey table), and even he had a hard time controlling his face in the house. It's an almost embarrassing display of money...but I'm the cynical poor student, so I hope you got that grain of salt on the way in.

During the party, I mostly tried not to give in to depression (don't ask me why) while the Boy challenged those half and a third his age to airhockey. I'd rather have been elsewhere, yet I couldn't tell you exactly where. Someplace away from the NHL, I think. That would do for starters.

I've noticed a pattern in my recent entries. I start off as gay as I can manage, get off a few witty quips, then spiral downwards into depression & bad grammar until the entry grinds to a halt. Since the last paragraph seems to be hinting at the inevitable decline, I'll just end this now. Please spend the next five minutes depressing yourselves.

Thank you.