Today was my first day back in New York after a nice little break and it's already like Christmas is a week away. The streets smelt like hot chocolate, the subways breathed gingerbread houses, and I saw Christmas trees lining the sidewalks! And, not to mention, I saw about a billion Starbuck's holiday cups today, as I've been seeing every day since November 1st. It's ridiculous! Just a few days ago I was sitting at home, quietly sipping some apple cider and sniffing the turkey as it roast in the oven. I absolutely despise how quickly this country shifts its focus towards Christmas.
Why do I hate Christmas? With presents and family and food and trees and decorations and music and candy canes and angels and snow and all that loveliness, what is there to possibly not love? Well, Christmas makes me feel horribly guilty. It's a season of just getting and getting and spending exorbitant amounts of money, all in the name of a savior I don't particularly worship. Thanksgiving is celebrating life, Christmas is celebrating a religious figure. This holiday has become so commercialized and glorified that its meaning is totally lost and I feel so horrendously guilty accepting gifts in the name of a savior I don't believe in.
Well, A.S.S., what about giving gifts? Surely there's nothing wrong with that! The gift of giving is the most rewarding! Well, I'm a poor student. I don't have the money to go out and buy nice gifts to truly thank everyone whom I appreciate so dearly in my life. It always winds up being an ornament or stuffed animal or piece of candy with a note. I don't have the money to donate to charities. I don't have the time or resources to go volunteer at shelters or soup kitchens or orphanages. Of course, I could do more than nothing, but it's difficult for me. So all Christmas has ended up being over the past few years is my parents giving me things I may or may not need, and me not being able to reciprocate. And anytime I do spend a lot of money on something for them, I never get it quite right. The season always turns into me accepting and accepting on behalf of Jesus, a man I don't care for. And it pains me to know that my parents are doing it in his name, truly meaning every gesture they make, and I can't even give that back.
How rapidly our country turns from being grateful to demanding and consuming. The day after Thanksgiving, it's like that Thursday didn't matter. Everyone's running rampant and belligerently through malls, trampling and literally killing each other to get a deal on watches or Tickle-Me-Elmo's or coffee pots. I won't lie, it horrifies me. But, as long as I'm not lying, I have to say that because I watched "Serendipity" this weekend, there's nothing I want more right now than to be in love in New York during the Christmas season. And the hot chocolate scented streets were definitely better than smelling like a dumpster.
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| "Serendipity" (2001) directed by Peter Chelsom |
Cheers,
The A.S.S.
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