9.18am Sometimes I look back and things I've written just a few minutes ago and I have to change it because I'm scared of myself. I'm scared of the rubbish that manages to escape. I'm scared of the way my brain works. I'm scared of the way that it seems like my brain is never involved when I start speaking. I suppose I am scared of a lot of things about myself. I'm scared that something vibrating my throat can mean that I can communicate with millions of people everywhere. I'm scared that my body requires me to spend nearly half my life sleeping when I want to be awake, living my life 'to the fullest'. I suppose living a life nearly half sleeping is better than living a life fully tired. Christmas. I suppose I had to tackle the subject sometime. I love Christmas, in many ways. One way is the materialistic side of me, the side that wants presents, the side that loves just getting things and being able to ask for outrageous expensive things and people feeling obliged to get them for you. Another way is that I love to see my family. Because I don't see them that often, with my uncle living in Italy and my aunt living in Brunei. I miss my cousins across the year, and it's nice to all be together. The other way I love Christmas is because it's the birth of Jesus. It's an amazing time if you think about it. But all this manages to get overshadowed by my stress levels. In some weird way, even though I know Christmas is all to do with the birth of Jesus, it still manages to get taken over with me being broke, having to buy people presents I can't afford, and having to pretend I like presents that I actually would prefer to see buried in a big muddy hole at the end of my garden. I can't seem to put the two sides of Christmas together, either it's the nativities and the church visits and the cuteness, or it's the stress and the family and the presents. I don't seem to be able to have a Christian family Christmas. Maybe it's because I haven't ever tried before?