Merry Christmas everyone, hope you had a great one.
I kind of didn’t, and guess what – I’m too half-arsed to pretend that I did.
It’s really difficult these days, in this glorious age of glorified social media, to ‘fess up (even to yourself) to having a less-than-perfect anything. No glowing Christmas tree in the window? No mouthwatering Chinese New Year spread? No multiple bouquets on Valentines’ Day? No Easter vacation? Can’t make your pooch sit down attentively for a perfect shot? Sacrilegious.
If I sound slightly bitter, I apologise. The holiday season has never been kind to me, and I’m feeling woeful. Short of two actually “Christmassy” grown-up Christmases spent in Provence and London, and of course the wonderful, wonderful Christmases of my childhood, most of my December 23-31s in the last 10 years were spent moping.
Which is not to say that I don’t appreciate being at home, with the family – I do. I love being with them, and I love our annual Christmas dinner. But it is the moments before, after and in between that – the moments when you’re recovering from that turkey and running a little self-introspection exercise – that kill. Like now, when everyone else is sleeping.
I guess it’s part wist that the Christmas of my adulthood is getting less and less colourful each year, the presents lesser and lesser, that holiday feeling less and less festive, which is very at odds with what I perceive elsewhere on the media and on my social media feeds. It’s enough to make me want to turn off the Internet and run off to Iraq.
It’s probably also part fear at the thought of another year ending just as quickly as it started. Despite what I accomplished in the last year, and every year we all do, I never see it come December. And I always fear that the new year will be equally stagnant and mundane as what I perceive the year ending to be. When I was younger, not that long ago actually, my breakups almost always happened at year-end. Often times I also reminisce about old boyfriends, never healthy.
It’s almost as if there’s a little ticker in me counting down the minutes I have to effect change before the year is up, in order to see change happen. Breakups are generally a quick and easy way to do that, although don’t worry – not on my agenda for now. Some people are afraid of change, I fear exactly the opposite. Stability appeals to me the way reading Paradise Lost does; patience is not a language I speak; subtle, unspoken and unseen deeds and accomplishments pass me by like a gust of December wind.
I like grand gestures, I like grand acts, and I even like volatility, sometimes. Which is not good for growing up.
Sigh, sigh, sigh.
Another 5 more days before the new year officially starts and then I can get along with my life without the hysterics, theatrics and festive blueness.
When I’m a parent, I will force festive cheer down the throats of my family, even if they resist it.
Happy new year all.