It's beginning to feel a lot like time to hit the iPod...

I realize that most people would have me drawn and quartered for this, but here's the thing.

I hate Christmas music.

It's not that I hate Christmas. Although I do feel bad for religious Christians who have had Hallmark destroy what was once an actual religious holiday, I'm really ambivalent about the holiday.

I like the lights.

Well, the white and red ones.

The rainbow colored ones, however...sorry. Gaudy.

But the red lights and the white lights, very pretty.

I like the giving nature of the season, although I wonder why the other 11 months don't matter.

I even like It's a Wonderful Life, although I don't know why Jimmy Stewart doesn't learn his lesson after seeing what his life is like without him every single year.

But the music, the fucking music, drives me batty.

It's not that I'm Jewish. I mean, my mother's Jewish and she can't get enough of the Christmas music. In fact, if I go home for the holidays, it's more likely that I'll hear the music in our Jewish home than anywhere else.

And it's obviously not that I'm a Scrooge. Like I said before, I kind of like the season.

So, today, I started thinking about why I have this viseral reaction to Christmas music and this is what I came up with. It's The Gap's fault.

When I was in high school, I worked for The Gap for two years. That annoying kid who would welcome you to the store and immediately address your needs or remember the last time you were there and what you bought, yeah, that was me. One of the side benefits of a disturbingly good memory. The reason you got "greeted" wasn't just because the company (that's what we called it, "the company" -- very 1984, I know) wanted you to feel comfortable in the store, it was because the likelihood of a properly greeted shop lifter continuing to shop lift was exponentially smaller. At least according to "The Company."

It was a good job and, frankly, I still own clothes I bought while I worked for the company. The discount was wicked good. To this day, I still feel bad paying full price for anything in the store.

However, during "Holiday"---which is what The Company calls it---everyone's schedule increased. I worked an ungodly number of hours then. And the whole time, the whole fucking time, that stupid ass Christmas music tape would blast through the speaker system over and over and over.

Nothing, and I mean nothing can ruin you forever for Christmas music than hearing it every damn day, all day, for over a month.

No one was happier for the 26th.

Reality bites...

I was going to write about those mundane things that make Sass ask me to contribute to her Carnival, but today, my mind is elsewhere. And for good reason.

I've struggled with my share of mild to clinical depression. I think most people in my age group have.

When I was in college, the world seemed to be my oyster. I could do anything, be anything I wanted. But when reality set it and the mundane world of a "job" took over, I felt trapped. Very trapped.

And sad. Very sad.

I just expected more than the daily grind.

More from my job. More from myself.

It took a while, but eventually, after discussing it with many, I realized I wasn't alone. Life just didn't meet the expectations of so many people.

And that's when I stopped being depressed about work and started looking at other things for fulfillment.

And ironically, that's when things at work started to fall into place.

But I remember those days well. How hard it was to get out of bed every morning. How impossible it was to be happy when I was so overwhelmingly depressed inside. How it seemed like my soul, my love for life, was dying a little with each passing day.

So, this week, when I found out that a family member of mine was struggling with clinical depression, it took me back to those feelings. Unlike so many times when I hear of someone's problems, I know just how she feels.

I just hope she knows I love her very much and wish with every part of my heart that she feels like herself again soon.