dear santa: christmas twenty thirteen

It sounds preposterous, a twenty something year old penning a letter to a fictitious festive legend. But I’ve seen so many of these kind of posts floating around the blogosphere, mostly wishes for the material things like sartorial ‘it’ pieces such as the 3.1 Phillip Lim Pashli bag (hey, no judgement from me since I may or may not have also done the same vain thing myself) but its those few whom delved a little deeper, creating a more meaningful post, asking for a better year for themselves or for some simple guidance as they travel down their elected paths that I couldn’t help but fall in love with the romance of it all. Writing down one’s hopes and dreams, reaching out to help better themselves, like making a wish and throwing a gold coin into a (supposedly) enchanted fountain.

I can be crazy like that sometimes, wishing and praying, hoping for some kind of divine intervention to save my sorry ass. I guess I conceitedly view myself as that princess trapped in a dark and dreary tower, waiting for her prince, hell just about anyone to save and free her from evil mediocrity. Yes it is far too easy for me to be swept up in romances and fairytale’s alike but I wouldn’t change it for the world. I suppose this letter is more so addressed to the Universe whole, rather than the jolly fat man himself. It’s most certainly a plea of sorts, down on my hands and knees kind, begging for some help. Just simply asking for a wonderful New Year.

Dear Santa,

It has been quite some time since I last wrote to you. Then again, and correct me if I am wrong, but I don’t think I have ever actually written to you so bear with me now because I genuinely have no idea how this Dear Santa stuff all goes down. I guess why sugar coat this and let’s just get right on down to business.

What I want for Christmas is simple. I want the most sparkling, magnificent and most mind-blowingly awesome 2014.

I’m over feeling so helpless, feeling like a trapped caged mouse. Stagnant, always bloody stagnant and as they say here in Australia, up shit creek without a paddle. I’m tired of remaining idle, living life away in my mind because my imagination knows how to throw an epic soiree. I need a nudge back onto my path, and I want a masterkey to open those damn doors so I may finally cross on over. Look I’ve learnt my lessons and I am eager to put them to use. I truly feel ready for the next stage, for what it will require of me. I know I’ll commit entirely.

I want 2014 to be the very best yet. I want my own place and I want to travel. There, that’s really it.

I want my own place so I can just do whatever the f*** I want, like work on my manuscript, totally uninterrupted from dawn to dusk if I so choose. Set about improving my culinary finesse and possibly photographically documenting it all. Invite friends around to just get trashed on cheap vino because, why the hell not. But most importantly to have a space that is my own, to create and decorate it in such a way that will serve to further inspire me each and every day.

Finally I want to travel. First and foremost I need to get to New York City for my birthday in January. Just the thought that I will be passing up celebrating yet another birthday milestone is down right depressing. Suicidal actually. I’ve grown weary of pretending that I have a strong dislike for my birthday. Not that its a hard scenario or anything since I don’t exactly have a barrage of people asking and encouraging me to go all out and celebrate. At least in the Big Apple I’d have my cousins and friends whom would relish in the very thought of celebrating with their Aussie comrade. I’d also love to go back to the USA in April and spend some precious weeks with the family. I’ve missed them so and could really do with seeing some smiling and happy faces. Following that I want to go to Europe in July and explore it’s many countries and sights, meet up with another relative and see the motherland. Really see it, not just the small village high in those isolated mountains but go down south to the big sprawling cities with their palaces, castles and forts. Then journey back to America and road trip down good ole’ Route 66.

Gosh I’d be such a happy chappy with an itinerary such as that.

Really I don’t feel like I ask for much here, it’s just a small blimp of needs that you could easily rectify with the snap of your fingers. Just go into my bank account and digitally add a few zeros behind that twenty you’ll find. The rest I can do myself. See, I am even offering to do the heavy lifting for you. I have no qualms about searching for the right home nor do I have any problems venturing out to the travel agency to book my trip. It would be my pleasure. You’ve kept this globe of ours spinning and still on it’s course orbiting around the sun, regardless of how much we continue to poison her with our noxious pollution or by how much we continue to weigh her down with our hefty mass as we continue to overpopulate and by the vast amount of junk we dispose to landfills each minute. You’d think shed wither and die with all this, yet she turns and blooms effortlessly. Surly seeing to my needs above would hardly cause a sweat to your brow?

So go on, please click those fingers and grant me the most magical 2014. Send forth some much needed funds my way and I assure you I can do they rest.

Also, if you’re feeling generous and have some time could you find that Prince Charming of mine? I think I am through with singledom and am ready for this chapter.

Sincerely,

xxx

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