I'm a Christmas Card Loser
The postman delivered my two weeks of vacation hold mail today and wow! Let's just say we get a lot of mail. Among the bills, catalogs, junk and letters from the IRS (no, nothing to worry about. Part of the joy of self employment is the thrill of frequent communication with Uncle Sam. Good old Sammy writes me on a regular basis, so I don't forget that I owe him money and he knows where I live.)
Anyway, among this pile of thrilling correspondence I found a stack of about a dozen Christmas cards. I love getting Christmas cards and every year I have major aspirations of sending my own out. Did you get my Christmas card? You didn't? Oh right, the Christmas letter is my "White Bull" as Hemingway would say.
I have a major mental block against the Christmas letter. It is a paralyzing, overwhelming writer's block that prevents my from putting together a Christmas letter. Why? I don't know why. I just can't write the letter.
You: But Lisa, you write everyday.
Me: I know, but I spend a lot of that time writing about stuff nobody really cares about. Moby Dick for example. I spent several weeks of 2008 writing about Moby Dick and I mean please, weirdest book ever written, but whatever.
You: But you blog and the blog always seems to work out fine.
Me: I know, but the blog is just a snapshot in time. It doesn't come with the pressure of trying to sum up an entire year of our lives in a charming, witty, heart warming way. It's just too much, I tell you. Too much. I'm not up to the task.
You didn't get a Christmas letter because apparently I need therapy. So here's wishing you each a belated Merry Christmas and warm, happy and peaceful New Year.
Much love,
Lisa
Anyway, among this pile of thrilling correspondence I found a stack of about a dozen Christmas cards. I love getting Christmas cards and every year I have major aspirations of sending my own out. Did you get my Christmas card? You didn't? Oh right, the Christmas letter is my "White Bull" as Hemingway would say.
I have a major mental block against the Christmas letter. It is a paralyzing, overwhelming writer's block that prevents my from putting together a Christmas letter. Why? I don't know why. I just can't write the letter.
You: But Lisa, you write everyday.
Me: I know, but I spend a lot of that time writing about stuff nobody really cares about. Moby Dick for example. I spent several weeks of 2008 writing about Moby Dick and I mean please, weirdest book ever written, but whatever.
You: But you blog and the blog always seems to work out fine.
Me: I know, but the blog is just a snapshot in time. It doesn't come with the pressure of trying to sum up an entire year of our lives in a charming, witty, heart warming way. It's just too much, I tell you. Too much. I'm not up to the task.
You didn't get a Christmas letter because apparently I need therapy. So here's wishing you each a belated Merry Christmas and warm, happy and peaceful New Year.
Much love,
Lisa
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