Photo(s) of the Day: Artsy Fartsy Christmas

I couldn't resist sharing more than one! Happy Holidays, all!






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On Manifest Destiny and The Consumerization of Thanksgiving

It's that time of year, when we gather all our kin and eat a ton of food and booze, and yell at each other because we really don't want to be together, and celebrate the hostile takeover of most of a continent, and then wake up the next day at the asscrack of dawn to trample all in our path just to get a great deal on a piece of shit "It" toy or a flat screen TV.

Yeah, I'm a buzzkill. I know.

Everyone knows by now that I'm not a huge fan of Thanksgiving, which I've gleefully and recently coined, "Manifest Destiny Day," which I think sums of the whole thing quite beautifully. But before I get to Manifest Destiny and how Black Friday is a gorgeous metaphor of that long tradition of taking what we want, a little recap on my tenuous relationship with the holiday:

I've never been much a fan of Thanksgiving food. Huge hunks of turkey? Not for me. Stuffing and cranberries and green bean casserole? Yucky. I like corn and potatoes, of course. Because potatoes are glorious, said the Irish girl. And somehow macaroni and cheese always made it into the mix, probably because I hated all the other foods and mac & cheese is also glorious.

Thanksgiving was never much fun in my house. I can count the good childhood Thanksgivings I had on one hand and I remember each good time extremely clearly. I remember splatter painting a table cloth (with permission) with my cousin. I remember eating homemade whipped cream. I remember my boisterous uncle telling a story, which involved wild hand gestures and the subsequent knocking over and splashing of cranberry sauce all over his new and very white house.

Not Thanksgiving, but I couldn't resist sharing one of the many matchy Christmas photos my cousins and I had to do.

But the rest were complete suckass. Usually my mom wouldn't start cooking until late in the day, because she's a world class procrastinator, something she'd find a zillion ways to blame on me or my dad or the dogs or maybe even the bird, while she also refused any help. Part way through the day, we'd all be starving and someone would pick a fight about something stupid, I'd be told I was an ungrateful little shit and go crying in my room and my dad would storm out the front door, slamming it and putting another crack in the door frame, and nobody would be happy. If we were lucky, we might be served dinner around midnight, which would undoubtedly be delicious (meaning the potatoes and corn and mac & cheese), and, while my mom was an excellent cook, I'm sure part of the deliciousness was due in part to our fasting the rest of the day's entirety.

So there's no nostalgia for Thanksgiving in me. There's no holding hands around a warm table filled with my loved ones declaring what we're thankful for. Most of my memories are of stress and tears.

And I also try to put aside that "giving thanks" means thanking the deity in the sky for whatever it is I supposedly didn't earn myself or didn't get by pure chance or serendipity or whatever. If I have things or happiness or love, I suppose I'm supposed to thank Someone with a capital S for it. So if I don't believe in said deity, can I just thank myself?

Then I worked retail. My very first real job out of high school was retail and I worked various sales and management positions for most of my twenties. Now, if there's one thing I am thankful for, it's that I never had to work at Wal Mart and come into work at 1am on Black Friday and dodge the murderous hoards all day. But I did work at malls and I did often have to leave Thanksgiving early (when I was still in contact with my madre) in order to get home at a decent hour to get enough sleep to work the next day at the asscrack of dawn and survive the utter madness that would ensue and continue for the next month.

Needless to say, Thanksgiving for me has, more often than not, signaled the start of stress.

And I still get all stressy thinking about it, even though I don't work retail anymore and I have had a few wonderful (small) Thanksgivings with my little cousin and I am starting to like the holiday season a bit (the lights and the winter and maybe even a little snow). And there are people I love who love this holiday. I get that. I can suck it up and make myself be social for a day and eat my gluten free mac & cheese and drink wine and participate in this odd day.

Le sigh.

I respect that plenty of people like this holiday. Though I'd argue that we should at least know what we're celebrating and it has nothing to do with the story we're raised on. I'll skip the retelling of the Thanksgiving story (because, long). You can read that here.

I do, however, want to talk about Manifest Destiny.

Now if that doesn't describe the entire history of the colonization of North America, I don't know what does. Sure, the term didn't come about until the 19th century, but the sentiment predated that by hundreds of years. We expanded beyond Europe. We took what we wanted and destroyed everything in our path. And we called it our duty and our destiny. And we called all men equal while millions suffered on reservations or in slavery or disenfranchisement.

I believe that's what therapists call justification.

I'm not saying we put aside this major tradition that so many people love; I'm saying let's learn the real story and at least acknowledge that our history is based on murder and subjugation and disenfranchisement and that an entire population of people still think of suffering on this day while we're stuffing our faces and being grateful for such abundance.

I'm just saying we have a little perspective.

So where does Black Friday and consumerism come in? Well where doesn't it? I know we're all lamenting the consumerization of this (and all, really) holiday(s), and no one hates the mentality and stress of it all more than I, but I also think it's completely natural given our history. Black Friday is SO Manifest Destiny!

It's our real life pageant play of colonization. We're not taking over countries and continents, but we each get to be little imperialists and conquer the shopping! Claim all the things! Take all the stuff and who the fuck cares who gets in our way! We deserve it! We were good all year! Gimme gimme gimme gimme!

All we're missing are flags.

It's not a decline in our civilization so much as a fulfillment of our longest traditions.

So I'm torn. I hate the shopping and sheer madness of it all. I mean, does anyone honestly think it's sane behavior? And you won't find me anywhere near a shopping center on the worst Friday of the year. But I also think that maybe this is just a teensy bit karmic. Maybe our karmic punishment for all of the crimes against humanity our civilization has enacted on land is that we'll eat ourselves alive, both literally one day and figuratively the next, until there's nothing left.

But I'll still participate in Thanksgiving.

This year, Eminem and I will be trekking down to Northern California to stay with my older cousin and her family, mostly so he can finally meet some of my family, and I'm sure we'll have a good time. For one, my mother won't be there, which is always a good thing! Two, booze! Three, I love my cousin and her family and I'm confident they aren't the train wreck my immediate family is. Four, I'm armed with GF rolls from my favroite bakery and my cousin is making me a GF mac & cheese and I'm making these Reese's bottom cheesecake cups. Five, road trip with my man! Yeah!

See, I can have fun. I just like to be conscious of why I'm having fun and know what I'm celebrating. I don't think that's unreasonable.

Hallowed Halls of Holiday Hatred

I am supposed to tell a holiday horror story this week.

And that? Well that's too tough for me. Because I hate the holidays, as you well know if you've been reading for any amount of time. So narrowing down one story is like picking out the craziest person at a Palin rally.

Not all the holidays, of course. I like Halloween and New Years. I like my birthday. That counts right? Aaaaaaand that's about it.

If you take my absolute detestation of family holidays and combine that with the historical and anthropological  implications of most of these holidays then add in the thousands of years I worked retail and you'd be better off asking me to think of a good holiday story.

I have a couple, of course. I loved the Thanksgiving when I was little where Linds and I decorated the table cloth and proved ourselves quite talented artists with our strategic use of splatter paint. Hey, shut up, it was the eighties.

The best Christmas story I have is when Linds, Lynnette and I were in Europe. They met me in Paris at the end of my stint abroad and we chunneled it to the UK and backpacked up into Scotland and back down to London in time for Christmas. It was a blast, even though poor Lindsey was sick as hell because of me.

We exchanged cheesy souvenirs in our hostel and Lynnette and I took off to tromp around the city. Literally tromp. All public transport was closed for the holiday so we walked all over that damn city. It was so beautiful and sparse of people and tourists (and COLD!) and we saw London in a way we never would have if we'd been on the tube with tons of other people. We got a little lost and landed ourselves in a Turkish restaurant, one of the few places open, and it was the most delicious food I'd had before or since.

Best Christmas ever.

Most people dread the holidays because of the stress and the pressure of their families. I just downright refuse to participate. Sure, I make presents for my friends and fam and I buy gifts of books for my little nephew Ethan (who I get to see in less than two weeks!). And when and if I have kids, I'll suck it up for them.

But for now? I hunker down in my house and do whatever the fuck I want all day. This was more of a treat when I worked full time, but now I'm sure it won't be that different from most days except that nowhere will be open. It's delicious. The genius part? Everyone feels sorry for me, alone on the holidays. Boo fucking hoo. What they don't know is I love it.

First reason to hate the holidays: the insanity that happens to people in and around stores between Thanksgiving and the Apocalypse. I worked in that melee for too many years that I care to count. I worked the sunrise post on Black Friday. I worked Christmas eve AND the day after Christmas. I battled with perfectly sane people who turned into product-eating zombies ready to kill at random will for over a month each year and I lived to tell about it. More than I can say for many innocent bystanders. The aftermath was insurmountable.

Now, lard help me, I may get another seasonal retail job. BUT, someone shoot me if I even think about going near a mall after this Wednesday. SHOOT. ME. Seriously. Do it. It's for my own good.

Second reason to hate the holidays: even wonderful families turn into hyenas during the holidays and they don't have my mother. Even back when my parents would try to do Christmas right for me, any holiday where my mother is stuck in a house with a finite amount of people will only end in utter disaster.

That especially includes Thanksgiving. Where my mom would insist on cooking the meal of the year but wait until 8pm to start cooking so we don't eat until Black Friday is actually over. I also hate Thanksgiving food. The only things I like are mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie. And macaroni and cheese, which isn't traditional but is for me, asshole.

Christmas always began with bickering and ended in screaming and tears from at least 2 people. Forget surprise gifts. After I figured out Santa wasn't real (a story for another day), I was taken shopping (or, later, given the ATM card) and told to buy what I want and wrap it up for myself.

On the up side, I still get myself a special Christmas gift. Thanks, Santa!

Aaaaand that's before my mom went totally off her rocker and started her all-out addiction to QVC. Then we'd just get whatever mystery item was still in its shipping box. No matter what could possibly be inside. You never knew! You just never knew! One year, I got a giant pez dispenser. Oh yes. Yes I did. Believe it.

My dad is a good gift giver, though. It won't be expensive and it won't be wrapped well if at all. But it will have taken thought. It's usually a book because my dad and I both love to read. One year, we bought ourselves the same book. Good times. Good times.

Third reason to hate the holidays: history is a motherfucking bitch. Christmas aside, because you all have to know it's not really about Jesus right? If it WERE, we'd celebrate in Spring. And you know it's really a Roman Catholic re-appropriation of Pagan holidays and symbols right? So in essence we're celebrating the subjugation of one religion by another? Right. So we can move on.

To Thanksgiving. Christmas I can even get behind a bit because I like Yule and snow and twinkly lights and poorly-themed lingerie. But Thanksgiving? Really? Yes, let's celebrate the beginning of hundreds of years of persecution of a people and genocide. We might as well celebrate Hitler's birthday while we're at it.

I loved a moment in Outsourced last week. Todd is trying to explain Thanksgiving and he says we're celebrating our gratitude that the "Indians" helped the Pilgrims survive the harsh winter. And Asha aks, "What did they give the Indians in return?" And Todd replies, "Um, less land to worry about?"

Exactly. Thanks, native people, for helping us out! We'll celebrate with a feast! Then we'll take your land and slaughter you in many wars and give you small pox and force your children to learn English and abandon your ways and beliefs and we'll also teach you about the wonders of alcohol! But it will all be okay because in a few hundred years, you can open some casinos. Aren't you glad! Let's eat!

Okay, okay, I'll stop. If you like Thanksgiving, have fun. Eat away. Enjoy your families. I'm well aware that people enjoy this holiday. I just think you should know what you're celebrating. If it's the food and maybe even family? Good for you. Have fun. Wear your Thanksgiving pants.

But me? I'll be home, watching movies and reading and eating mac &cheese. And I'll be enjoying it.

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Photo of the Day: Berry Christmas

I was told recently that this photo would make a good holiday card. So, here you are, Internet, a holiday card just for you! I shot this last weekend whilst tromping around my town, taking advantage of the grey light and taking as many photos as I could. What I love about this photo is it was one of the last I took because my camera's batteries were getting tired. So it's slightly blurry and I think that makes the berries look that much more sumptuous. Pretty sure you can't eat them though. Oh well.

Happy Holidays everyone. If you celebrate christmas, may you have a very (as the Brits say) happy christmas. If not, enjoy the day off work. Unless you work in a Chinese, Japanese, Turkish, Indian (well, you get the idea) restaurant. Then, enjoy the extra business from those who don't celebrate or don't cook. Or thought they could cook and learned a hard lesson. Either way, have a good day.

Ho Ho Ho

Back at work today. Are there 4 words more depressing? I don't think so. If there are, I defy you to find them.

Nonetheless, I felt ready to be back at work today. It had been a long and relaxing weekend and I was ready to go back to the norm. Well, kind of ready. I had gotten so used to life without an alarm clock that when my alarm went off this morning, I literally had no idea what was going on. I had one of those disoriented moments like you have in a hotel. For a good 2 minutes, I was running through questions. Who am I? Where am I? What time is it? Why do I have to be up at this time? Oh wait, if I snooze, what time do I actually have to be up? All those very important existential questions. Ah. Life is complicated.

And today was somewhat of a blur anyway. Catching up on a thousand emails and phone calls and meetings and to-dos. This week should be pretty crazy too, on into the holiday season. Ugg. I've said this before and I truly apologize to those who love Christmas, but I just hate the holidays. I envy you people. Maybe it's a religious holiday for you with tons of significance. Or maybe you get to spend time with your loving family. Or maybe you enjoy buying gifts for everyone in your life. Well, for me, I don't really get any of that. I'll explain.

Warning: Debbie Downer! Those who want to maintain a childlike innocence please redirect your browser here.

Okay, can I continue? Only cynical grownups in the room? Awesome.

I am not religious. I was raised in a Christian religion, but (and without delineating my entire theory on ideologies) I've made my own way. And I must also assert that Yule was a pagan holiday hijacked by the Christians to convert them. Even if you're Christian, you have to know that Jesus couldn't have been born in December. There. So, I do love the winter season. I love snow and snowmen and snowflakes and the cold sparkliness of December (or what should be December. I wouldn't know in Southern fucking California). But I don't go to a church. I don't put up nativities. That's not me.

And my family circle is small. I'm close with my dad but we've agreed not to spend Christmas together. Have I mentioned I'm estranged from my mother? I am. And I won't make my dad pick between us, so he spends a good chunk of time supporting me and my mom gets him for the holidays. And I'm okay with that. My childhood Christmases were never memorable in a good way anyhow. It's always been stressful for me, as long as I can remember. So a family-free Christmas is A-okay.

In fact, I'll probably just go see a movie with Morgan this year. Just how I like it. Last year, I treated myself to a Harry Potter marathon. It was fantastic. In fact, the best Christmas I ever had was in London. I had been backpacking with my cousin and my bestest friend in the world Lynnette through the UK and we ended up in London for Christmas day. The three of us exchanged cheesy souvenirs and Lynnette and I (Linds was sicky, poor thing) tromped around the city in the freezing cold. And the tube was shut down so we literally walked all over London. It was a blast! And we saw things we never would have seen on a bustly day taking the tourist routes. And we discovered the best Turkish food you will ever have in your whole damn life. Oh my god it was AH MAY ZING! Best Christmas ever.

So that brings me to...what...oh yeah. Shopping. First off, have I mentioned I used to work retail? For years I worked retail. And let me tell you, Christmas time in the malls is like guerrilla warfare. Perfectly sane people lose their minds. All of a sudden, all that stands between them and their perfect Christmas is a book or a bra or a sweater. And they just don't understand that you don't have a printing press in the back of the store. Or a sewing machine. Or a magic fucking wand. Or maybe the nice lady in front of them took the last one of whatever it is...they will turn into goddamn Galahad and fight to the death for the damn item. Or maybe they're just cranky from all the shopping, all the spending. That credit card starts to get heavy after a while so no matter how fast the lines go, how many registers are open, how nice you are, you (innocent, underpaid retail worker) are the devil incarnate and must be put in your place. You wouldn't believe the hideously mean things I've heard people say to employees during this festive holiday season. Spirit of the season my ass.

So you can see why I'm a little wound up about Christmas shopping. If I don't absolutely have to, I do not enter the stores, malls, or the like from Black Friday until New Years. I shop online, I make shit, whatever I have to do to survive by not going near the mania that is shopping around the holidays.

Plus I'm buhroke. Broke. Po. So fucking poor. And I want to be generous. I do. But oh my god do the charities come out of the closet (he he) in December! I am a good person. I build houses in New Orleans. I give to HRC and Courage Campaign. I've worked at emergency shelters and tutored kids. But that kind of giving should be spread out, all year. When it all piles on at once, it really pushes my finances out the window. And at my work (love you coworkers!) we have a million events in which we're expected to bring toys and canned goods, etc. And it's a very good thing. But I really can't afford it all. This year, I have to choose which things I can go to depending on what I can afford to give. I even made artsy Christmas gifts this year (mentioned that already) so it's not as if I'm spending on me and can afford it. Nope, I'm on a budget all the way around.

Side story: I used to work in a book store and we used to ask people to donate cheap books (like maybe $3 or $4 books) to charity. If someone really seemed like they couldn't afford it, or afford it right then, I got that. But people would spend 500 plus dollars and throw it all on an AMEX and they can't afford three more dollars for a needy kid? That I don't get. Same with me. I give where I can. And I when I can give more, I will. But I just can't right now.

Okay Debbie Downer is finished. But you can see why this season is so stressful right, Internet? I'd really like to keep an open mind, though. If one of those categories changed its mind and jumped in my lap, I'd really try to learn to love the Christmas season, I really would. Ho ho ho and all that. I can't even seem to get the ho part down. Looks like I have a long way to go.