Yeah, it's one of those posts.

Mum would have been 65 today. Once again I am positivley infuriated that I'm unable to buy her an actual present. I fucking love buying stuff for the people I care about... it's so much fun searching for something you KNOW they'll like and then seeing their face light up when they tear apart the wrapping paper (or throw the bright yellow sweater in your face whilst screaming "YOU ARE NO LONGER MY SON").

Instead I get to spend $40 on shitty fake flowers to drop on the concrete (well the real ones don't fare too well after the first 3 months). I don't even like going out to that damn cemetary. It used to feel as though I was doing something productive by going out there, but really, now that the grass has grown on top and it's just a field of headstones, it doesn't feel any different than, say, going to a park to walk your dog.

I need retail therapy. *pout* Buying stuff online is SOOOOOOO not the same as wandering around camped-out Tokyo shops and fawning over stuff you'll never fit into. Hell yes this is a fucking materialistic way to end a reflective post, but going outside the house means I can't hide within myself... and throwing money at stuff makes everyone feel awesome.