It's funny: the people that are all in the Christmas camp and those that aren't.I was waiting for the elevator in my building and struck up conversation with a guy who said he didn't do Christmas: he was going to some remote, tropical locale.
Chatting with a runner on Friday night she confessed to be in the same boat and she and her daughter are going to Mexico for the holidays.
With the exception of last Christmas (after I had lost my dad and then my job and basically went entirely off the rails) I have always loved Christmas. Love the dinner. Love hanging out with family and friends and the food and the parties and the drinks and the overall festivity of it.
This year? I dunno. I am seriously trying to keep it together and put on a good front for the people that I know that love the holidays, but inwardly? Fuck. I just am irritated and resentful and depressed about the whole process.
Granted: I am light years from where I was this time last year and I am thankful for that. And I am appropriately aware that by being a downer I am ruining it for other people and, furthermore, I am absolutely turning into my father so Michael should probably leave me immediately.
Regardless. Though I have to work through the holidays and my boyfriend is out of town until the new year and I hate shopping and materialism and the hip that I fucked up in Vegas is giving me no small amount of grief, I shall endeavor to be thankful for everyone that is making an effort and giving me Christmas cards and baking and hugs and telling me to "eat" because they've all got the right attitude and I just have to dig a bit deeper and be appreciative of everyone's well wishes and smile and get on with it as I do live a supremely charmed life and my little pity-parties are just pathetic and pointless.
Funny story: my dad wasn't big into Christmas and hated the whole present process and, after repeatedly being asked what he wanted for Christmas, he said (flippantly) "toilet paper".
And so my aunt got him toilet paper for Christmas.
3 comments:
I wish the only difference Christmas brought was the trees.
I don't like the frantic spending of money and shopping for unwanted and unneeded shit that goes one. I wish people didn't think they had to buy anyone anything, no one needs all this crap. Not even the kids, that they say "oh it's for the kids." My attic is full of SHIT that was just for the kids.
I get gifts from people at work and so many of them are expecting me to give them something in return. Well, if I feel like giving, I'll give, and I don't expect or want anything in return. Why can't we just give someone a gift on say.... June 3rd?
So I guess the only thing I look forward to is the trees. The Starbucks at my favorite grocery store looked so cool with all the Christmas trees standing up around the tables on their patio, all waiting to be sold. One day it looked like a forest and the next day it was all gone. The lights are cool too, but in my neighborhood some people leave them up all year long. They just unplug them after Christmas.
I enjoy spending time with my family. We are geographically split into 2 locations and so one group travels to the other's city and we spend 3-6 days just hanging with each other.
Adults don't exchange gifts, but we give them to the children. Because we love to give gifts/toys to our nieces, nephews, grandkids etc. (and it give this grown man a chance to spend the day buiding a super cool Lego space jet fighter thing.) then we just hang and live together for several days. I love waking up and having coffee and breakfast with them all. It is unlike getting together any other time for a dinner or something, it more personal and intimate. Everyone with bed-head and in sleepwear.
Have a very Merry Christmas to all you duder fans!
That's cool, it's like a vulture convention at the in-laws. All the kids and grand kids standing around scoping out what they can get off the Elders when they die off. Trying to determine if their gift had cost Grandma as much as the one she gave me. It's really sad. We just stay home, and eat a lot.
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