This year, I feel deranged by the holidays. There is so much to prepare and plan and buy and wrap, and then there are the school functions, the parties, the toy drives. When I learned that Ginger had to dress as a 1980s rocker for her holiday concert—Check out the Pinterest screenshots attached for reference, the email said—I wanted to murder someone. To quote Patrick: “What the fuck is this? Private school?”
How dare Thanksgiving come so late! How dare there only be one week left of school before a three week break!
It’s true that I am working more than usual: I’m leading three accountability groups and teaching my creative nonfiction class at Caltech. I also find myself, two weeks before Christmas, revising a profile of a mega-bestselling author. I have been working on this piece in one way or another since September.
What I haven’t worked on lately? My novel. I’ve got too much other shit to do—and, anyway, the election threw me into a well of despair and creative apathy.
It’s times like these that the empty calendar of January beckons. That fresh, do-over feeling, however illusory, calms me.
Until then, here are three things getting me through:
Bean’s Christmas List
Everyone else’s teen wants an iPhone and a vape pen, but not my nerdy eighth grader.