Making Fun

It's my mother's birthday tomorrow, and I'm stressed.  It is up to me to make the day special for someone who is never impressed.  I hate making celebrations.  I hate having them, too. I don't know why.  I'm a generous person, I think, and I don't mind giving things, but the stress of a given day and time is too much for me.  I'm having a breakdown over it.  

At least it is not a Friday. 

I will buy her a card, flowers and a cake.  Those things are mandatory, of course.  

"Oh, look. . . what a surprise!"

It's just stupid.  

I will take her to lunch. 

"Where would you like to go, mom?"

"Oh, we don't have to do that."

"Sure we do.  What would you like to eat?"

"I don't know.  I don't really want to eat much.  Maybe some soup."

If I take her to a restaurant I like, she won't like it.  She likes bland foods.  She would love the Olive Garden.  Scoff if you will, but I swear.  

After lunch, we will go to get new iPhone 15 Pros.  

After that. . . I don't know.  I will take her home and we will sit.  We can eat cake.  And I will feel bad when I leave.  

I have become an anxious man.  One of my friends wrote yesterday that he had a horrible night.  Thought he might need a nuthouse.  That was my night last night.  What was wrong?  My dreams were horrible.  Why?  

I think it was because I watched a documentary on Camus before I went to bed.  I can't do such things anymore.  I need happy shit.  Thinking about the meaninglessness of life is not a good bedtime story.  I got up many times during the night, but I did not get up for good until late this morning.  Now I feel stressed.  It will be a busy day.  My heart rate is up, I can tell.  My sphincter tightens.  I have a general weakness and malaise.  

I need somebody to say, "Come here, baby.  It's O.K."  

Jesus, I would melt.  Not just "somebody," of course.  

I got two invitations to my old boss's end of the year party last night by two different women.  Of course, I didn't go.  It's like that.  

But the thing on Camus was good.  Once a Marxist, he rejected Marxism as a secular form of Christianity with its requirements of sacrifice for a deferred earthly heaven.  He realized that Marxism, like religion, negated individualism.  He was repelled by the herd mentality.  

I should have watched "Elf" instead.  Something.  I need a happy ending before I go to bed.  

Today does not look promising.  It is overcast once again.  I have much to do and no will to do it.  I think it might be a relief to join my old friend in the nuthouse.