By the way, here's a not completely realistic example of Christmas depression, Swedish style. This was posted a few days before Christmas by a young lady acquaintance of mine, on her blog. I've translated it into English and changed one or two details to make it easier; the spoken-word style syntax is her own. I don't know how many of the details are true, the Chilean thing could well be since her mother's family is from Chile, but she also fools around with the markers of depression (Lars Norén is an eminent playwright who has also shown up a number of blown-to-bits families, and who owes something to Bergman).
I CAN'T GET AROUND IT, yer all Swedish and you like Swedish music & Swedish cooking, British too, and cardigans to boot. OK, I'll shoot myself down here in the corner of my apartment. What makes me real sorry is that Radio One exists, makes me wanna cry,
Hey, I tell ya, You ain't never gonna outdo me in sick family relationships and never NEVER in sick Christmas eves. Lars Norén and Ingmar Bergman, them guys make feelgood movies compared to my real life stuff. I got a ruby when I was ten years old, my dad read his mistress' diary who suffered from anorexia, she was sodden sad and it goes on and on...
I have nine brothers and sisters, two of them got the same name. Granny converted to Judaism, my mom is thinking of besoming a Roman Catholic. Sometimes I've been eating turkey and serving chilean long drinks on Christmas eve, sometimes no food at all just pasta and mashed tomatoes. Mommy don't like food, she's an anti-materialist so dinner is just a superficial thing.
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