Today is very workaday. It feels like the beginning of a dry period. It is the holidays, a time that always feels like a music video, with days like flashing images, one after the other, like Moulin Rouge- bright colors, frenzy, singing (but less romance and fewer beautiful people). It is the Monday after Thanksgiving and people have a sort of bloated silence to them. I haven't personally spoken to one coworker today. Everyone seems to be cloistered in their offices, numbly tapping out emails as they sit hunched in front of the computer.
Soon, the constant stampede of Christmas parties, and harried holiday preparations will begin. And it all makes me wonder: what the fuck happened to slow Christmas? You know, the Christmas where you ponder the snow, where you lazily bake sugar cookies and sip apple cider in front of a fire. It seems only to exist in the perfectly lit world of holiday movies and commercials, the supreme distillation of a collective holiday fantasy. Or it exists for children, because children get Christmas break (without preparation for finals) and have little responsibility in the way of gift buying, Christmas tree procuring and holiday party and food preparations. And to add to this conundrum is the implied guilt one must feel for not enjoying all the hubbub. Never mind your twelve hour day and the filthy kitchen- YOU BETTER MAKE SOME GODDAMNED COOKIES!
Yeah, I know. Scrooge is tired shtick, a pose aped by many. But I can't help but clinch my fists in anticipation of being put through the Christmas Grinder once again this year. Despite resolutions to forego the anxieties, to shun the trivialities and focus on the higher virtues of the holidays, like family and merriment, peace and graciousness . . . hot buttered rum (I'm not religious, so I only give Jesus a passing thought), I inevitably succumb to last minute panic when I realize I have not, as usual, planned sufficient time for making all the homemade goodies and buying all the wrapping paper/bows/bags/tissue/cards/ribbon/dazzles/frillies/boxes/candies . . . somehow or other, I seem to remember to buy something for a little liquid holiday cheer. I'm not stupid, after all, and one good strong drink seems appropriate in dealing with the hyper-glut fest and poverty-inducing gift exchange that typifies a Christmas gathering for my family.
So now that I've unleashed all that dread into the blogosphere I can continue on in my less-than merry way and go through the motions with a stiff upper lip, after all, there's a Christmas tree to be put up tonight.
No comments:
Post a Comment