So, tomorrow is my last day as a smoker. I am really going to quit this time, goddamnit.
I am also working a double shift. Thank god Im not quitting until Monday--Or New Years would be a little something like this for all people at the Harbormaster.
Go here and see the greatest commerical ever, as youtube still mystifies me.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OXl0nTjcrzs
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Musings
Its after 2am and I am sitting in my room thinking about death. Death as a concept, death as a general whole. About all the people that I have cared about that have passed away, about those that I have never known that have. Its been almost 2 years since my stepfather was killed, been almost 4 since my friend kevin died, which amazes me. In retrospect that seems like such a long time, when in my mind it doesnt seem possible that so much time has passed. It doesnt make sense when you try to articulate it.
Saddam Hussein was executed today. Gerald Ford died earlier this week, along with James Brown. What a strage trio to go out semi-together. They always say that death comes in threes, and thats one weird threesome.
Everyone believes something different about what happens when you die. Some people believe in Heaven and Hell. Some people believe in an afterlife, some believe that you just become worm food and that's the end of that. As I studied religion in college, and religion is basically a belief system that tells you what happens when you die, (and how to avoid a result you dont like by living your life a certain way) I would consider myself at the very least well read on the subject and the differences therein. Now, for everyone who may or may not be reading this, I mean no offense by this post, or to seem as though I believe that your belief has less merit than another. That is not the case, and I dont mean for it to seem as such.
Anyway.
Some people believe that when you die, you go to a Heaven or a Hell of your own making--as what is idyllic and wonderful for one person is kinda so-so for another, and what is torturous and horrid for one is not so bad for another. (this is what we call the "what dreams may come" version, thomas and I) I think about this option a lot. What would heaven be like, for me, if I made it for myself? Hell? I suppose I dont really know, as I havent been put in that situation before, and hopefully wont for some time. What I think of most often is of the people I love, what is their heaven or hell like? Is my stepfather fishing in Patagonia, his father and grandfather at his side? Is he sitting on a rocking chair, whittling and playing the harmonica to the grandchildren he never got to meet? Is he courting my mother all over again? Or is he alone, with only the knowledge of the "legacy" he left behind with his death? Knowing all the pain he caused me and my mom, the horrible things that happened to us after and because of his death? I know that would be torture for him.
Another version that I think of often is that everyone goes to a "holding area", (Very "Emil, you're going to be a dog") where they reflect on the lives they led, and the impact they had on the people around them, and think of what they could have done differently. What lessons they failed to learn this time around, before they dive back in and do it all over again. (Semi-Buddhism. Semi.) Or in this holding area, they sit and hang out with everyone they've lost, and all the people they have wanted to meet but didnt get the chance. Is my stepfather sitting with his grandparents, and his dad and uncle, playing cards with Janis Joplin and Jim Morrison?
I have discussed this with a friend of mine who has also lost parental figures (Pretzel Fingers--ask me about that one sometime), and I think we were both given comfort by the idea of her parent and mine sitting up there, drinking beer and telling embarrassing stories about the two of us, just as they would have done down here. They're laughing, and joking, and rooting us on, fingers crossed that we turn out the way they always dreamed we would, they way they raised us to. Cheering at our triumphs and weeping at our losses over a game of croquet, a bonfire and some good beer.
I think that idea gives me the most comfort. Its like in "the Lonely Bones", when the girl dies and is reunited with her childhood dog, and every night her all the animals come out to play with her--thats her heaven--but she can watch her family from above and talk about it with other people. She says that Heaven isnt what she expected it to be, but it was good, just the same. I like the idea of the people I love being happy, in a sense that I can understand and articulate, doing the things that they loved most. Keeping the memories of me close to heart the way I do them.
Its upsetting to me, actually, that there is a possibility that I will never see terry again. I have only dreamed about him twice that I remember, and both dreams were traumatizing. Always, from the time I was a small child, believed that you got to see the people (and animals!) you loved that passed away when you passed away yourself. that it wasnt permanent. That they were just gone, and would be waiting for you when it was your turn--they would be there, with open arms, and be genuinely happy to see you--that they had missed you as much as you missed them, and that finally, FINALLY, you could see eachother again and talk about all the things you had missed doing together.
that, I guess, is heaven. And I really hope its true.
Saddam Hussein was executed today. Gerald Ford died earlier this week, along with James Brown. What a strage trio to go out semi-together. They always say that death comes in threes, and thats one weird threesome.
Everyone believes something different about what happens when you die. Some people believe in Heaven and Hell. Some people believe in an afterlife, some believe that you just become worm food and that's the end of that. As I studied religion in college, and religion is basically a belief system that tells you what happens when you die, (and how to avoid a result you dont like by living your life a certain way) I would consider myself at the very least well read on the subject and the differences therein. Now, for everyone who may or may not be reading this, I mean no offense by this post, or to seem as though I believe that your belief has less merit than another. That is not the case, and I dont mean for it to seem as such.
Anyway.
Some people believe that when you die, you go to a Heaven or a Hell of your own making--as what is idyllic and wonderful for one person is kinda so-so for another, and what is torturous and horrid for one is not so bad for another. (this is what we call the "what dreams may come" version, thomas and I) I think about this option a lot. What would heaven be like, for me, if I made it for myself? Hell? I suppose I dont really know, as I havent been put in that situation before, and hopefully wont for some time. What I think of most often is of the people I love, what is their heaven or hell like? Is my stepfather fishing in Patagonia, his father and grandfather at his side? Is he sitting on a rocking chair, whittling and playing the harmonica to the grandchildren he never got to meet? Is he courting my mother all over again? Or is he alone, with only the knowledge of the "legacy" he left behind with his death? Knowing all the pain he caused me and my mom, the horrible things that happened to us after and because of his death? I know that would be torture for him.
Another version that I think of often is that everyone goes to a "holding area", (Very "Emil, you're going to be a dog") where they reflect on the lives they led, and the impact they had on the people around them, and think of what they could have done differently. What lessons they failed to learn this time around, before they dive back in and do it all over again. (Semi-Buddhism. Semi.) Or in this holding area, they sit and hang out with everyone they've lost, and all the people they have wanted to meet but didnt get the chance. Is my stepfather sitting with his grandparents, and his dad and uncle, playing cards with Janis Joplin and Jim Morrison?
I have discussed this with a friend of mine who has also lost parental figures (Pretzel Fingers--ask me about that one sometime), and I think we were both given comfort by the idea of her parent and mine sitting up there, drinking beer and telling embarrassing stories about the two of us, just as they would have done down here. They're laughing, and joking, and rooting us on, fingers crossed that we turn out the way they always dreamed we would, they way they raised us to. Cheering at our triumphs and weeping at our losses over a game of croquet, a bonfire and some good beer.
I think that idea gives me the most comfort. Its like in "the Lonely Bones", when the girl dies and is reunited with her childhood dog, and every night her all the animals come out to play with her--thats her heaven--but she can watch her family from above and talk about it with other people. She says that Heaven isnt what she expected it to be, but it was good, just the same. I like the idea of the people I love being happy, in a sense that I can understand and articulate, doing the things that they loved most. Keeping the memories of me close to heart the way I do them.
Its upsetting to me, actually, that there is a possibility that I will never see terry again. I have only dreamed about him twice that I remember, and both dreams were traumatizing. Always, from the time I was a small child, believed that you got to see the people (and animals!) you loved that passed away when you passed away yourself. that it wasnt permanent. That they were just gone, and would be waiting for you when it was your turn--they would be there, with open arms, and be genuinely happy to see you--that they had missed you as much as you missed them, and that finally, FINALLY, you could see eachother again and talk about all the things you had missed doing together.
that, I guess, is heaven. And I really hope its true.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Newfound needs
I am finding myself addicted to moisturizers. This is new, as I used to just let my skin fall where it may, never allowing it any type of quenching other than what I drank. Amazingly, coke is not a really good skin emollient. I looked like a lizard and my scaly, flaking skin left trails behind me wherever I went.
Then I moved away from the great dryness that is MT, and back to the sodden grounds of the rainforest, and my skin became drier by the moment. I still attempted to keep on with my glaring neglect, until....
I began to see the benefits of a good moisturizer. The people around me that use them are glowing, their skin dewy and radiant. I was captivated by the beauty of their skin, as my own left Pigpile-esque heaps around me.
And so. With my newfound income, I have a little money to burn. Since the lotions that i recieved for Christmas do nothing for me, other than cause me to break out in hives, (with the exception of what Jenn got me, that stuff is great, but in tiny containers, and it smells like pumpkin gingerbread so Thomas wants to chew on my arm after I use it) I took some of my tip money and went and got body butter and a soy facial moisturizer.
Now I too am glowing! My skin is supple and moist--words normally used to describe cake--and its lovely. I dont stick to my clothes anymore, or itch! my makeup goes on easier.
I can't believe I just wrote a whole post about moisturizer. Lord.
Then I moved away from the great dryness that is MT, and back to the sodden grounds of the rainforest, and my skin became drier by the moment. I still attempted to keep on with my glaring neglect, until....
I began to see the benefits of a good moisturizer. The people around me that use them are glowing, their skin dewy and radiant. I was captivated by the beauty of their skin, as my own left Pigpile-esque heaps around me.
And so. With my newfound income, I have a little money to burn. Since the lotions that i recieved for Christmas do nothing for me, other than cause me to break out in hives, (with the exception of what Jenn got me, that stuff is great, but in tiny containers, and it smells like pumpkin gingerbread so Thomas wants to chew on my arm after I use it) I took some of my tip money and went and got body butter and a soy facial moisturizer.
Now I too am glowing! My skin is supple and moist--words normally used to describe cake--and its lovely. I dont stick to my clothes anymore, or itch! my makeup goes on easier.
I can't believe I just wrote a whole post about moisturizer. Lord.
Hours and Hours
Anyway.
I have had some mixed reviews of the decision to move the blog. Some people dont want to have to go to another site to see what is new with me, some people think its a good idea, others dont seem to care, really.
I think its a good idea. But as we are only onto day three, I dont know that we can really judge at this point. What do you think? Who is reading this thing, if anyone? Have a lost all of my darling readers by moving away from the addiction that is Myspace?
I suppose it remains to be seen.
I have had some mixed reviews of the decision to move the blog. Some people dont want to have to go to another site to see what is new with me, some people think its a good idea, others dont seem to care, really.
I think its a good idea. But as we are only onto day three, I dont know that we can really judge at this point. What do you think? Who is reading this thing, if anyone? Have a lost all of my darling readers by moving away from the addiction that is Myspace?
I suppose it remains to be seen.
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Post-Christmas Stink-Eye
Good lord, people.
Remember how crabby I was before Christmas? Yeah, well, I had reason to be.
Lets begin at the beginning, shall we? Ok.
I had to work on Christmas Eve, which is fine. I was out of there by 4, and we arrived at my sisters house at 6, which is freaking amazing considering how much travelling was involved. No waiting in line for anything, nothing. Granted, my father drove, and it was pouring down rain and terrible outside, and because of these two things I said about 300 "Our Fathers" (which shows you just how terrified I really was) We arrived just in time to decorate the christmas tree! Remember my list? (Last post) Im allergic! OH WELL! Get your buns up there and decorate it, Darling, because no one else is going to.
So I did. In heels.
After that, we ate pizza. Then my niece came back from visiting her father.
Ok, some backstory. (theres always some backstory, isnt there?) My nieces and nephews are all about my age--like cousins should be. The ones in question here are 25 (niece) 28 (nephew) and 19 (other nephew).
My niece lives in Las Angeles.
My older nephew is severely developmentally disabled. He understands everything that is said to him, but cannot speak himself, or walk without assistance.
My younger nephew is into girls and snowboarding. Thats it.
My niece is a lovely girl, and we have nothing in common. I dont know that if we werent related by blood if there would be a time in which we would ever speak to eachother if forced to, let alone pretend to like eachother. So, basically, we get on the way my whole family does.
Anyway, so she arrives, and suddenly the whole atmosphere of the house changes. Things suddenly revolve around....her. No, we are not going to get up early so oldest nephew can see what santa brought him, we are going to sleep in because thats what niece wants to do, hystaria from big brother be damned. Even if everyone else gets up early, no presents, and no breakfast, as she will still be sleeping.
Fine.
Then it comes to our attention that sister will be sleeping on the couch as niece wants to sleep in her bed. I will be sleeping on the futon, as "It's been in younger nephew's room and smells bad. Let her sleep on it."
Fine.
We go to bed, but I cannot sleep, as niece is doing a sudoku puzzle and needs the light on. I begin to read, and suddenly, cannot do that as she is ready for sleeping and the light has to be off.
Fine.
Hooray! It's Christmas Morning! The whole family (Including youngest nephew, shock of all shocks) is up and drinking coffee at 8:30am! Niece comes out of bedroom, angry at all the noise.
Fine.
Finally, after coffee and tea are re-made to her specifications, its time for presents, as older nephew has been in the doorway between the kitchen and living room staring at us and pointing at the hive-inducing Christmas tree for about 10 minutes.
I get to play Santa. I hate playing Santa, as you cannot just sit and drink coffee and relax while enjoying the happy atmosphere around you. No, you're under the damn christmas tree, digging out gifts while your ass gets the best view of the goings-on. You're shuttling gifts from tree to person, picking up discarded wrapping paper and stacking opened gifts in piles around their new owners. (Did I mention that in my family, "Santa" means "Bitch"?)
Fine.
The gift opening goes well. My niece recieved, in no particular order:
-all accessories available for Ipod
-Coach purse
-Italian leather shoes
-Tiffany jewelry
-Designer makeup
-5 Gift cards
-Cuisanart
-Scanner
-Several DVDs and other things I missed while under the tree
My younger nephew recieved:
-All accessories available for Ipod
-Snowboard boots, bindings and clothes
-hat with MP3 player inside
-9 Gift Cards
-Playstation 3
-7 games for Playstation 3
I recieved:
-A bag of paper change rolls. (From the Dollar store--my sister made a point to tell me)
-A lotion set (Dollar store)
-Air Freshener (dollar store)
-3 small skeins of yarn, the price of which was lamented to be "nearly $20 for the three!" and is, while attractive, not enough to make anything with as they are 3 different kinds of yarn.
You think Im kidding.
The only thing I can say is that my older nephew really got some decent stuff. he is often forgotten in the fray, and winds up with cast off gifts, things that no one really puts any thought into because they know he can't tell them if he hates it, and the chances of him needing a gift reciept are close to zero.
Anyway. There's more to this story, but Im not really feeling it. That basically sums up the whole thing. I am by no means a greedy person, nor am I materialistic. But for crying out loud, people--why even make the "effort", if you can even call it that? I mean, no, I dont have an Ipod, nor do I want a designer handbag or shoes, but....
Its not nice to feel like you're a charity case. To not have to gush thank-yous after basically being given the finger. I came away from this just shaking my head.
And then I was told I was fat, and came home.
Merry Christmas, everyone. I hope that you are all ok with my new bloggy goodness, and that my identity will remain intact for at least a little longer than with my past expirences with Blogger.
Remember how crabby I was before Christmas? Yeah, well, I had reason to be.
Lets begin at the beginning, shall we? Ok.
I had to work on Christmas Eve, which is fine. I was out of there by 4, and we arrived at my sisters house at 6, which is freaking amazing considering how much travelling was involved. No waiting in line for anything, nothing. Granted, my father drove, and it was pouring down rain and terrible outside, and because of these two things I said about 300 "Our Fathers" (which shows you just how terrified I really was) We arrived just in time to decorate the christmas tree! Remember my list? (Last post) Im allergic! OH WELL! Get your buns up there and decorate it, Darling, because no one else is going to.
So I did. In heels.
After that, we ate pizza. Then my niece came back from visiting her father.
Ok, some backstory. (theres always some backstory, isnt there?) My nieces and nephews are all about my age--like cousins should be. The ones in question here are 25 (niece) 28 (nephew) and 19 (other nephew).
My niece lives in Las Angeles.
My older nephew is severely developmentally disabled. He understands everything that is said to him, but cannot speak himself, or walk without assistance.
My younger nephew is into girls and snowboarding. Thats it.
My niece is a lovely girl, and we have nothing in common. I dont know that if we werent related by blood if there would be a time in which we would ever speak to eachother if forced to, let alone pretend to like eachother. So, basically, we get on the way my whole family does.
Anyway, so she arrives, and suddenly the whole atmosphere of the house changes. Things suddenly revolve around....her. No, we are not going to get up early so oldest nephew can see what santa brought him, we are going to sleep in because thats what niece wants to do, hystaria from big brother be damned. Even if everyone else gets up early, no presents, and no breakfast, as she will still be sleeping.
Fine.
Then it comes to our attention that sister will be sleeping on the couch as niece wants to sleep in her bed. I will be sleeping on the futon, as "It's been in younger nephew's room and smells bad. Let her sleep on it."
Fine.
We go to bed, but I cannot sleep, as niece is doing a sudoku puzzle and needs the light on. I begin to read, and suddenly, cannot do that as she is ready for sleeping and the light has to be off.
Fine.
Hooray! It's Christmas Morning! The whole family (Including youngest nephew, shock of all shocks) is up and drinking coffee at 8:30am! Niece comes out of bedroom, angry at all the noise.
Fine.
Finally, after coffee and tea are re-made to her specifications, its time for presents, as older nephew has been in the doorway between the kitchen and living room staring at us and pointing at the hive-inducing Christmas tree for about 10 minutes.
I get to play Santa. I hate playing Santa, as you cannot just sit and drink coffee and relax while enjoying the happy atmosphere around you. No, you're under the damn christmas tree, digging out gifts while your ass gets the best view of the goings-on. You're shuttling gifts from tree to person, picking up discarded wrapping paper and stacking opened gifts in piles around their new owners. (Did I mention that in my family, "Santa" means "Bitch"?)
Fine.
The gift opening goes well. My niece recieved, in no particular order:
-all accessories available for Ipod
-Coach purse
-Italian leather shoes
-Tiffany jewelry
-Designer makeup
-5 Gift cards
-Cuisanart
-Scanner
-Several DVDs and other things I missed while under the tree
My younger nephew recieved:
-All accessories available for Ipod
-Snowboard boots, bindings and clothes
-hat with MP3 player inside
-9 Gift Cards
-Playstation 3
-7 games for Playstation 3
I recieved:
-A bag of paper change rolls. (From the Dollar store--my sister made a point to tell me)
-A lotion set (Dollar store)
-Air Freshener (dollar store)
-3 small skeins of yarn, the price of which was lamented to be "nearly $20 for the three!" and is, while attractive, not enough to make anything with as they are 3 different kinds of yarn.
You think Im kidding.
The only thing I can say is that my older nephew really got some decent stuff. he is often forgotten in the fray, and winds up with cast off gifts, things that no one really puts any thought into because they know he can't tell them if he hates it, and the chances of him needing a gift reciept are close to zero.
Anyway. There's more to this story, but Im not really feeling it. That basically sums up the whole thing. I am by no means a greedy person, nor am I materialistic. But for crying out loud, people--why even make the "effort", if you can even call it that? I mean, no, I dont have an Ipod, nor do I want a designer handbag or shoes, but....
Its not nice to feel like you're a charity case. To not have to gush thank-yous after basically being given the finger. I came away from this just shaking my head.
And then I was told I was fat, and came home.
Merry Christmas, everyone. I hope that you are all ok with my new bloggy goodness, and that my identity will remain intact for at least a little longer than with my past expirences with Blogger.
Revving ourselves up for Christmas
I am a grinch. I have been a grinch since I was a child. Im not sure exactly where this bitterness towards the christmas season comes, but there are a few ideas roaming around inside me.
1)I am allergic to pine trees, apparently. Nothing says holiday cheer like breaking out in hives from the act of decorating your christmas tree.
2)I hate to shop. I like leisurely strolling through stores, making careful, thoughtful choices as to what to buy the people I care about. I hate being smashed in a crush of people, who all apparently are mouth breathers, while trying desperatly to find the 4 things on my list while the young mouth-breathers of the herd gallop around me schreeching like monkeys while their parents alternatly ignore them and scream at eachother. I hate having to jockey for position to look at something, having to dig my way though an aisle in attempt to get from point a to point b. I hate it.
3) I hate feeling obligated to buy things for people. I love to give gifts to people I care about, knowing that what I have purchased is going to be appreciated not for the money I have spent, but for the thoughtful and insightful choice I have made in their honor. But I hate having to come up with some random bullshit gift for someone I dont know or like because im expected to. hate it.
4)I am hard to shop for. This makes me feel like a bad person. I dont personally think I am hard to shop for, but people tell me year after year that I am the dreaded member of their shopping list. Im sorry.
5)I hate pretending to like my family. HATE IT. We get together, make small talk, smile and nod, all while having an internal dialogue that goes something like this:
"Good lord, i hate you. Why am I standing here talking to you? I keep forgetting that we are related....Its embarrassing to me. How can I get out of here? Give myself food poisioning? Stab myself in the neck with a broken christmas ornament? Shit. Am I really going to be here for another 7 hours? Sigh. I hate you. Really. No, really.Can you tell? No?? I can't believe it."
And people wonder why alcoholism is so rampant in my family.
6)Most of my life, Christmas was spent fighting. I was either having christmas with my mom, which turned into a huge debacle in only the way that any sentance containing the words "Festive" and "My Mother" can, or I am with my father, running interference between the 2 sects of the family--the black sheep (Myself, the artists and the gays) and the assholes (most everyone else), waiting for the shit to hit the fan and my father to come jogging into the room where I am and say this:
"(Person A) just called (Person B) a(n) (Horrifying explative) and now (Person C) is threatening to (Insert drastic measure here)....Get your coat and I will meet you at the car."
So far, my favorite examples of this above formula are:
"Your sister just called your cousin a greedy cocksucker, and now your aunt is threatening to have them written out of the wills of all living members of the family. Get your coat and I will meet you at the car."
"Your aunt just called your uncle a whore-mongering asshole, and now your niece is threatening to have her brother committed. Get your coat and I will meet you at the car."
and so on.
I often fanatsize about things that could happen, and apply them to the formula, like so:
"Your aunt just called your sister a drunken bitch, and now your other sister is holding her at knife point against the new oven. Get your coat and I will meet you at the car."
It makes me smile just thinking about it.
7)Since the age of about 11, I havent gotten a normal christmas gift from anyone in my immediate family. I am either forgotten, ignored or given something totally rediculous and/or insulting. 2 years ago, my sister noticed that everyone had presents BUT ME to open, so she opened one of her gifts, said that she didn't like it, and gave it to me. thanks. My mother often gives me gifts that leave me wondering if it was a joke, or if I am being punished for something I didnt know I had done. This year it was floating "penguin" candles. I dont want to sound greedy or anything, but, well, come on, people....Just dont invite me next time.
8)I can never dress properly for holiday meals and get togethers. I either look like a homeless person compared to the rest of them, or I try to look nice and someone tells me I look like a truck stop hooker. This year, I am wearing a sweater. Not a christmas sweater, but a sweater. And heels. With my luck, there will be a Luau theme to christmas or something, and I will, as usual, stick out like a sore thumb.
9)My family insists on taking about 93985 rolls of film each holiday, and as much as one would think that I would just blend into the blur of my insane bloodline, I dont. For some reason, I am always caught with my ass sticking out of the oven while I get the roast, to which my father will write some lovely quip about how my ass got to be that big from eating whole meals and leaving none for the rest of us, or, like several years ago, catch me on my way out of the bathroom with my shirt untucked and pulled up so you can see about an inch of shiny white fat hanging out, with a cigarette hanging out of my mouth and a can of Coors in my hand. Thats class, right there. They mixed that one in with a shot of my aunt squealing with delight over her new Lexus. Sigh.
10)Christmas is supposed to be about goodwill, love, joy, family and the things that are truly important. You are supposed to make your childrens eyes light up, as the true spirit and magic of christmas takes over. Instead, you spend at least a thousand dollars on shit people think they need, or insist they have, and will use once. You suffer through meals with people you hate, wear uncomfortable clothes, drive in heavy traffic for hours, smile, nod, and quietly plot your death. I dont think that everyone has holidays like that, perhaps its just a "my family" sort of thing.....But I do look forward to the days when I have a family of my own, and we can really have the sort of christmas I never had. No retrieving presents from under the tree over the unconscious form of a drunk family member, no catty remarks about the size of my ass, no screaming matches that end in broken windows, just laughter, love, caring, and a sense of FAMILY.
Basically, what Im trying to say, is even though I have all these reasons for hating the holidays, I still have hope. I still believe in the spirit of Christmas.
And with that, this grinch is off to bed, and she wishes you all the Merriest of Christmases, the Greatest of New Years, and, at the very least, a tame, sane, fun holiday.
Merry Christmas, everyone.
1)I am allergic to pine trees, apparently. Nothing says holiday cheer like breaking out in hives from the act of decorating your christmas tree.
2)I hate to shop. I like leisurely strolling through stores, making careful, thoughtful choices as to what to buy the people I care about. I hate being smashed in a crush of people, who all apparently are mouth breathers, while trying desperatly to find the 4 things on my list while the young mouth-breathers of the herd gallop around me schreeching like monkeys while their parents alternatly ignore them and scream at eachother. I hate having to jockey for position to look at something, having to dig my way though an aisle in attempt to get from point a to point b. I hate it.
3) I hate feeling obligated to buy things for people. I love to give gifts to people I care about, knowing that what I have purchased is going to be appreciated not for the money I have spent, but for the thoughtful and insightful choice I have made in their honor. But I hate having to come up with some random bullshit gift for someone I dont know or like because im expected to. hate it.
4)I am hard to shop for. This makes me feel like a bad person. I dont personally think I am hard to shop for, but people tell me year after year that I am the dreaded member of their shopping list. Im sorry.
5)I hate pretending to like my family. HATE IT. We get together, make small talk, smile and nod, all while having an internal dialogue that goes something like this:
"Good lord, i hate you. Why am I standing here talking to you? I keep forgetting that we are related....Its embarrassing to me. How can I get out of here? Give myself food poisioning? Stab myself in the neck with a broken christmas ornament? Shit. Am I really going to be here for another 7 hours? Sigh. I hate you. Really. No, really.Can you tell? No?? I can't believe it."
And people wonder why alcoholism is so rampant in my family.
6)Most of my life, Christmas was spent fighting. I was either having christmas with my mom, which turned into a huge debacle in only the way that any sentance containing the words "Festive" and "My Mother" can, or I am with my father, running interference between the 2 sects of the family--the black sheep (Myself, the artists and the gays) and the assholes (most everyone else), waiting for the shit to hit the fan and my father to come jogging into the room where I am and say this:
"(Person A) just called (Person B) a(n) (Horrifying explative) and now (Person C) is threatening to (Insert drastic measure here)....Get your coat and I will meet you at the car."
So far, my favorite examples of this above formula are:
"Your sister just called your cousin a greedy cocksucker, and now your aunt is threatening to have them written out of the wills of all living members of the family. Get your coat and I will meet you at the car."
"Your aunt just called your uncle a whore-mongering asshole, and now your niece is threatening to have her brother committed. Get your coat and I will meet you at the car."
and so on.
I often fanatsize about things that could happen, and apply them to the formula, like so:
"Your aunt just called your sister a drunken bitch, and now your other sister is holding her at knife point against the new oven. Get your coat and I will meet you at the car."
It makes me smile just thinking about it.
7)Since the age of about 11, I havent gotten a normal christmas gift from anyone in my immediate family. I am either forgotten, ignored or given something totally rediculous and/or insulting. 2 years ago, my sister noticed that everyone had presents BUT ME to open, so she opened one of her gifts, said that she didn't like it, and gave it to me. thanks. My mother often gives me gifts that leave me wondering if it was a joke, or if I am being punished for something I didnt know I had done. This year it was floating "penguin" candles. I dont want to sound greedy or anything, but, well, come on, people....Just dont invite me next time.
8)I can never dress properly for holiday meals and get togethers. I either look like a homeless person compared to the rest of them, or I try to look nice and someone tells me I look like a truck stop hooker. This year, I am wearing a sweater. Not a christmas sweater, but a sweater. And heels. With my luck, there will be a Luau theme to christmas or something, and I will, as usual, stick out like a sore thumb.
9)My family insists on taking about 93985 rolls of film each holiday, and as much as one would think that I would just blend into the blur of my insane bloodline, I dont. For some reason, I am always caught with my ass sticking out of the oven while I get the roast, to which my father will write some lovely quip about how my ass got to be that big from eating whole meals and leaving none for the rest of us, or, like several years ago, catch me on my way out of the bathroom with my shirt untucked and pulled up so you can see about an inch of shiny white fat hanging out, with a cigarette hanging out of my mouth and a can of Coors in my hand. Thats class, right there. They mixed that one in with a shot of my aunt squealing with delight over her new Lexus. Sigh.
10)Christmas is supposed to be about goodwill, love, joy, family and the things that are truly important. You are supposed to make your childrens eyes light up, as the true spirit and magic of christmas takes over. Instead, you spend at least a thousand dollars on shit people think they need, or insist they have, and will use once. You suffer through meals with people you hate, wear uncomfortable clothes, drive in heavy traffic for hours, smile, nod, and quietly plot your death. I dont think that everyone has holidays like that, perhaps its just a "my family" sort of thing.....But I do look forward to the days when I have a family of my own, and we can really have the sort of christmas I never had. No retrieving presents from under the tree over the unconscious form of a drunk family member, no catty remarks about the size of my ass, no screaming matches that end in broken windows, just laughter, love, caring, and a sense of FAMILY.
Basically, what Im trying to say, is even though I have all these reasons for hating the holidays, I still have hope. I still believe in the spirit of Christmas.
And with that, this grinch is off to bed, and she wishes you all the Merriest of Christmases, the Greatest of New Years, and, at the very least, a tame, sane, fun holiday.
Merry Christmas, everyone.
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