I wish I could be funny
Dec. 23rd, 2003 10:43 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ambitious_wenchI wish I could be funny when I'm angry, or hurt, or irritated. But the problem is that I lose my sense of humor when I'm feeling those emotions. I envy the ability to let lose with a string of imaginative profanities and descriptive attacks.
Instead, I feel something snap, and words start tumbling out of my moUth, or from my fingertips, and I don't stop until I have nothing more to say.
I like Christmas. It reminds me of my Grandmother, who took such delight in making people happy. She taught me that giving is a privilege, that sometimes accepting a gift was as much a blessing to the giver as it is to the recipient.
I can hear her laughing with utter joy at our delight on Christmas morning.
I like the music. I like being able to sing the songs, and the memories they invoke of the happiest times in my life, of being part of the gestalt of a choir. Yeah, some of the stuff out there is crap. But when it is, I can ignore it, because I carry Handel's Messiah in my head. The good stuff, well, it's a reminder of the times I've sung that song with others.
I like the lights. All except the colored ones, those hold no allure for me. I wish I could put up lights along the eaves of my house, but lacking a tall enough ladder, I can't.
I like decorating the tree. I used to have parties to decorate my tree. Being alone, single, no family, I'd still have a wonderful time of it by inviting my friends over to help decorate. I'd make cookies, hot chocolate, mulled cider.
But I can't enjoy Christmas this year. Some serious issues have arisen with Techi's family, again. Besides which, Techi is another who dislikes Christmas on principle.
For the last 7 years, I've had only 3 Christmas trees. And all of them I've had to lug in and set up by myself, because Techi doesn't want an artificial one.
I've had to decorate them myself, too. She refuses to help. I miss the spirit of cooperation, of sharing a glass of wine when it's done. I have a tree, yes, but it's a testament to one person's selfish desire to maintain the status quo, rather than something done in joy together.
I like giving gifts. Emotional blackmail isn't something I am capable of with friends. It hurt when I saw an artist's easel set yesterday, and thought of someone who would appreciate it. But I was afraid that she would feel obligated to return the gift. And I know that no matter how much I protested that no return gift was expected, she would still feel that obligation. And so I left without it.
I wish I could hate christmas, join in gleefully as it's being skull-fucked on IRC. But I can't. I can't make jokes about taking hatchets to elves, or buggering reindeer, or roasting Santa alive over an open fire.
And so I sit with a rock in my intestines, wishing for something I never thought I would: That it would all be over soon, so I don't have to listen to the hatred.
That I hadn't taken part in singing this year because it just reminded me of how good this time of year can be, in spite of the fact that I am not a Christian, that it's commercialized, that it's tacky, that it's trite, that it's a fucking game of one-upmanship.
Season Grievous, everybody. Merry FUCKING Christmas.
Edie
Instead, I feel something snap, and words start tumbling out of my moUth, or from my fingertips, and I don't stop until I have nothing more to say.
I like Christmas. It reminds me of my Grandmother, who took such delight in making people happy. She taught me that giving is a privilege, that sometimes accepting a gift was as much a blessing to the giver as it is to the recipient.
I can hear her laughing with utter joy at our delight on Christmas morning.
I like the music. I like being able to sing the songs, and the memories they invoke of the happiest times in my life, of being part of the gestalt of a choir. Yeah, some of the stuff out there is crap. But when it is, I can ignore it, because I carry Handel's Messiah in my head. The good stuff, well, it's a reminder of the times I've sung that song with others.
I like the lights. All except the colored ones, those hold no allure for me. I wish I could put up lights along the eaves of my house, but lacking a tall enough ladder, I can't.
I like decorating the tree. I used to have parties to decorate my tree. Being alone, single, no family, I'd still have a wonderful time of it by inviting my friends over to help decorate. I'd make cookies, hot chocolate, mulled cider.
But I can't enjoy Christmas this year. Some serious issues have arisen with Techi's family, again. Besides which, Techi is another who dislikes Christmas on principle.
For the last 7 years, I've had only 3 Christmas trees. And all of them I've had to lug in and set up by myself, because Techi doesn't want an artificial one.
I've had to decorate them myself, too. She refuses to help. I miss the spirit of cooperation, of sharing a glass of wine when it's done. I have a tree, yes, but it's a testament to one person's selfish desire to maintain the status quo, rather than something done in joy together.
I like giving gifts. Emotional blackmail isn't something I am capable of with friends. It hurt when I saw an artist's easel set yesterday, and thought of someone who would appreciate it. But I was afraid that she would feel obligated to return the gift. And I know that no matter how much I protested that no return gift was expected, she would still feel that obligation. And so I left without it.
I wish I could hate christmas, join in gleefully as it's being skull-fucked on IRC. But I can't. I can't make jokes about taking hatchets to elves, or buggering reindeer, or roasting Santa alive over an open fire.
And so I sit with a rock in my intestines, wishing for something I never thought I would: That it would all be over soon, so I don't have to listen to the hatred.
That I hadn't taken part in singing this year because it just reminded me of how good this time of year can be, in spite of the fact that I am not a Christian, that it's commercialized, that it's tacky, that it's trite, that it's a fucking game of one-upmanship.
Season Grievous, everybody. Merry FUCKING Christmas.
Edie
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no subject
Date: 2003-12-23 05:22 pm (UTC)I hate Christmas for what it has become - the overblown commercialism, the faux religious overtones, and the general obscenity of people wishing me a "Merry Christmas" when I'm so tired I can barely stand, and hurt so much it's all I can do to keep from crying.
I have lost the majesty, awe, and splendor of Christmas. And it grieves me to the core. Gone are those wondrous days of my youth, when it seemed that the time off from school for Christmas break lasted for a month. There was magic in the air, real magic, and it is forever gone. I don't know where it has gone, but I long for its return.
But, in a different sense, I love Christmas for what it is - the chance to spend time with loved ones, the traditions such as the real tree in our house (ah, the smell of pine!), and the giving of gifts. Not the commercial, "here, I spent 20 bucks on you, Merry Xmas" kind of gifts. The gifts that mean the most, because they are from the heart.
Taking hatchets to elves? Buggering reindeer? Roasting Santa? Never me! I would reserve those tortures for those who have made a mockery of the season, who have deemed it necessary to turn the entire period of time between Thanksgiving through Christmas into a madhouse of BUY BUY BUY! SPEND SPEND SPEND! Stores opening earlier and earlier, just to be the first. Pretty soon, the "Day After Thanksgiving" sales will start at 10 pm on Thanksgiving Day...
I share your pain, if for different reasons...