As a retail worker, the holiday season means I have less and less time for, well, anything.
Despite the fact that I’ve only written a single post since the beginning of this month, people have kept subscribing to my blog. I appreciate the vote of confidence, and I suppose I should start writing again to make your loyalty worthwhile.
I recently read an old diary of mine from when I was fourteen-ish. I had tried to make it fun in the beginning in the way I’d thought diaries were supposed to be, like YA contemporary novels and 90s teen flicks. But I gave up about halfway through.
Well, I don’t have any school to go back to in September. I thought I might take some classes but that’s not looking like it’ll happen until May. I’ve got a part-time job, but as stated, it’s only part-time. So what will I do the rest of the time?
Yesterday evening, I found myself with one-hundred-and-sixty-six other people in a room not even close to big enough. I was breathing in their sweat and sweating out their spit. We were all gathered in this room awaiting our turn to perform for an audience of fifty-five people–which is supposed to be a lot. It was the Performing Arts showcase, a brilliant medley of dancing, singing, and acting, all around one extremely important holiday: Christmas.