Tis the Season

I have not posted anything in a while.  I decided a while back that I would try to limit myself to writing only when I had done something interesting.  Well, evidently I don’t do that many interesting things, especially when I am back on my home turf.

And it is Christmas.  I loathe Christmas.  I am reluctant to even admit that, because to people who like Christmas admitting you don’t is somewhat akin to offering to shave their cat.  I don’t know why this is, why this one preference is held so sacred to proponents on both sides of the argument.

I can’t even tell you why I don’t enjoy this season though I do have my suspicions.  I had a very lovely if not idyllic childhood.  I was not spoiled but certainly not wanting in a fairly affluent household with two loving parents.  Its not like my dad asphyxiated in the chimney trying to pretend he was Santa (as I believe was Phoebe Cates’ excuse in the 1984 film “Gremlins”).  Its just somehow along the way everything got so … overwrought.  For one thing I am not a Christian in that I don’t believe that Jesus Christ was the son of God (which I sort of thought was the jumping off point for this belief system).  I don’t believe their IS a god to take that one step further and isn’t JC’s real birthday somewhere around August?.  That aside …

I am at a stage in my life where I am reinventing my future, which seems to involve a great deal of paring back.  I have moved to a smaller living space, split time between two countries and spend an inordinate amount of time trying to stuff a maximum amount of items into a single carry on bag.  While the concept of giving gifts is a lovely one I very rarely do anything to deserve such an endowment and truly at this stage of the game less is more.

Why the hatred though?  The oppressive weight on my soul?  I have a theory.   As a Canadian and one devoted to walking everywhere I possibly can I spend rather a great deal of time in pedestrian walkways, malls and stores in an effort to stay warm.  Starting at 12:02 AM on November 1st the piped in carols begin and run without cessation for the next 55 days.  Many are subtle and play along quietly.  Many are just damn dreadful (has anyone caught the latest John Camp Cougarmellon atrocity?)  They are omnipresent.  For those who embrace the season they are a constant positive stimulus, a little caffeine and white sugar for the seasonal nerve endings.  For the chronically Yule loathing sods such as myself they are water torture.

Forgive me my Christmas hatred.  I really don’t do it to bug you, oh normally sane friends who start wearing red and green sweaters at the first flake of snow and to whom the word “nog” makes perfect etymological sense.  Let me retreat, grinch-like to my dwelling.  I will be the first one out to greet you with a broad smile and a Cadbury Easter Cream Egg when this is all over.

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