Photo(s) of the Day: Artsy Fartsy Christmas

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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.

Random Thoughts of a Crazy Lady

You read that right. Random Thoughts are back! You lucky ducks.

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So the other day I was sitting in downtown Portland, enjoying the sun (finally!) and getting the first sunburn of the year (awwyeah!) and avoiding the rats with wings. I mean pigeons. I hate pigeons. Hate them. They're disgusting.

Anyway, it occurred to me that that song in Mary Poppins, Feed the Birds, was about pigeons. That bird woman was feeding the pigeons of London. She was asking kids to give her money to feed the pigeons.

Why were we all so enamored by this? She was a crazy bird lady feeding the disgusting pigeons! London's pigeon problem is probably all her fault. And doesn't this make you question Mary Poppins' sanity? Why did she convince those two kids to give their money to a crazy bird woman instead of investing it in the bank? What the hell was the teaching those kids?

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Do you want to know the truth? The real reason dancers wear tights? It's not to look pretty and it's not, as we tell you, to keep our muscles warm. It's to hide all the wounds and bruises that dancing causes. It's true. Dance is brutal and they wouldn't want their pretty ballerinas to look all beat up and bruised would they? What kind of message would that send? Therefore? Tights.

In fact, even though I don't dance anymore, my legs still get all bruised up. It's like my legs are magnets for desk corners and random walls that come out of nowhere. I need to start wearing tights again. People must think I'm a masochist. Which I kind of am, I admit.

Next week: dancer's feet!

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Today is mother's day. I hate mother's day. Just like I hate all family and religious holidays. These days are supposed to be all about making us feel special and included, but they forget all about those who aren't included. Those of us without mothers or fathers or children or who don't practice a certain religion are totally left out and completely screwed.

At least on Christmas, you have to stay home because not one fucking place is open. On mother's day, if you go out and about like a normal person, you get inundated with reminders of your lacking. I swear, if one more person asks me what my big mother's day plans are, I might punch them in the face.

Because it doesn't stop with one question. I say no plans and they ask why and then I have to explain that I don't have kids (why not? oh don't worry! you'll get some!) (barf) or that I don't talk to my mom or sometimes I say that I don't have a mom, which then gets sad faces and sympathy and makes me feel like a jerk for ruining their lovely day. But fuck, they brought it up! Or sometimes they say, Oh everyone has a mom! Or they respond, Oh she's your MOM! Don't you want to call her? As if they know one fucking thing about my life and I really shouldn't have to explain myself to every random fucking stranger.

So in summation: mother's day sucks. I know this is also true for my friends who are step moms are have lost babies or lost mothers. I'm with ya, sisters. I'm with ya. Stay strong and fuck Hallmark.

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I am brilliant. Most days. Yesterday was not one of those days.

It was a beautiful day. And I really wanted to get outside. I also wanted to swim laps at the gym. So I decide that I'll walk the roughly three miles there. In flip flops. Because I'm a genius.

Also, the day before, I'd spent all day taking photos at a golf tournament and the bottom of my feet had started to get a few blisters that weren't that bad and wouldn't have gotten bad if I hadn't decided to walk three miles in the hot sun in flip flops.

So you can imagine what shape my feet were in by the time I got there.

I did have a good swim, but then I had to make my way home. Luckily, I'm smart enough to take the bus, but that included walking to find a business that would break a bill so I'd have exact change and then hobbling to the bus stop and then home.

I had planned on hiking today, to avoid mother's day, but as you can imagine, my sore soles are in no shape for a hike. At least there are cozy coffee shops with ice tea and rose gluten free cookies and wifi where I can write random blog posts.

There is that. It's brilliant really.

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.

This post participates in:

Hap Pee Hall Id Ays

What a week. I am simultaneously stressed and bored. Bored because my office is so quiet. No phones ringing, no emails. So I get my work done so quickly and I have nothing else to do. Pointless. Plus, I worked WAY too hard last week to get everything done before the break, because I'm taking a vacation the first week of January and I'll need to hit the ground running when I get back. But, dudes, I worked too hard. I got everything done that I can do without others' input (because of vacations). I should have spread that out so that I have more to do this week.

Stop laughing. You're laughing, I can tell. But nothing is worse than having nothing to do. It's mind-numbing! The day just goooooes soooo loooong! I'd rather be a busy bee and stressed out. Then at least the days go quickly.

But then I'm also a little stressed. Stressed because I've been exhausted lately. I know what you're thinking, Internet. Exhausted, you say? Why ever for? You just got done telling us that you've got nothing to do! Exactly my point. I am tired for no good reason. Maybe it's because I'm bored all day or maybe it's my iron levels. Whatever the reason, I'm just pooped. I simply cannot get enough sleep. I get home and collapse and then I have trouble waking up the next morning. I'm pushing my mornings later and later and that is taking a toll on my get-ready time. So you can see that hats are again playing a huge role in my life. Luckily I love hats and I'm allowed to wear them to work. Hah! So there.

And then there's this damned holiday season. Don't get me wrong, I am soooo excited that I get 2 weeks off (well, one week of my own vacation, but who's complaining?)! But no matter how many times I go through the season and no matter that I've streamlined it into my own, safe version of "christmas," I still get those butterflies in my stomach. Butterflies that pop up on family holidays that seem to be a mixture of species: the jealous of big families butterflies, the lonely only on holidays butterflies, the self-loathing why did I get stuck with the sucky situation butterflies. I can see you wondering why all my butterflies are negative when most butterflies are pretty. See, those pretty ones only come out in the spring. Wait, the bad butterflies come out for easter too. Damn it. Well, just sod it all then.

Point being that no matter how hard I work to make this work for me, I still can't help feeling twinges of negativity drilled into me from birth. Holidays are supposed to suck, are supposed to be stressful. Almost 30 years of conditioning taught me that. So it's hard to break the subconscious mind that wants to sabotage all my hard work.

Plus it's also a vacation from my therapist. Almost a month until my next appointment. Let's see if I can get through without calling her.

Nevertheless, I am going to barrel through. And I am spending christmas day with Morgan. We're having an anti-christmas, which suits me JUST fine. I am SO looking forward to it! But I must apologize to her in advance if I freak out a little. Last year I made it through with the help of my pajamas, lost of sugar, and hours of Harry Potter. I'm not sure what going out in the world will feel like. So, please, lovely friend, if I panic and just need to go home, please please puleez understand. This holiday is hard for me.

That said, happy holidays everyone! I'm sure I'll post between now and christmas, maybe, if I feel like it (hah!), but even though I don't get the joyous holiday season, I don't begrudge others who love it. In fact, I'm envious of you all. I hope you swim in the sparkliness of wintry snow and open lots of glorious presents and eat lots of decadent food surrounded by people who smother you with love unconditional. I really wish that for everyone. Really and truly.

In the spirit of giving, here are some links to my favorite charities and non-profits should you decide to part with some more cash:

Habitat for Humanity

I'd prefer you specify your giving to the New Orleans area, but just giving to this organization means your money will help someone have a home.

Human Rights Campaign

Courage Campaign

Planned Parenthood

Invisible Children

Make sure to buy one of the films and you'll get a bracelet made in Uganda too. All of their merchandise goes right to the cause.

The UN Refugee Agency

Repower America

And even if you can't give (believe me, I get how poor we all get this time of year), there are plenty of ways to get involved, even if it's just writing your legislators, signing petitions, or spreading the word. Follow these orgs on Twitter or Facebook and they'll help you to do little things which can help a lot.

Peace and love and all that jazz!

women in my life

There are several women in my life, some I've known since I was just a little girl, others since my teens, and a few somewhat more recently. These women are so special to me. All of them are the family I choose.

They are my sisters in heart, my dearest friends. They inspire me, challenge me, and hold me up. We've had wonderful times and challenging times. And I wouldn't trade these fearless amazons for anything.

This is for them:

the women from Andrea Anthony on Vimeo.

With all my love, dearests, happy holidays.

♥,

Andrea

fat and happy

Today was a day of work holiday parties, the first being our annual all-staff lunch and oh em gee do I love this event! The food is all comfort food and dee-lish-us and while the thing can go pretty long, there is this raffle with some pretty damn good prizes. I always tell myself that I don't want to win, but dude, I totally do. Didn't happen this year, but some day, one of those wine baskets will be mine. I swear to Odin.

Then on to my divisional holiday party and my favorite part about this shindig is the food competition. There's always a theme and everyone brings a dish and then we all vote on the favorites. The voting isn't the best part. The eating is. I am so fat and happy right now. Mmmmm. I also might be slipping into a sugar coma. Someone call an ambulance. Hah!

So, even though I get absolutely no work done (and believe me, I have plenty to do before winter vacation), days like this work nicely into my new master plan: plump up for the winter. See, my plan has two genius elements. First, while all my female friends are watching their weight through the perilous holidays and becoming more and more crabby in the process, I am foregoing the misery and enjoying myself. Bring on the food, I say! Bring. It. On. And that brings me to the second benefit: more insulation. I plan to be nice and warm this winter once I'm done plumping up (not nearly close enough to my goal), while you dieters will be freezing your asses off. Proof: I have a coworker who recently lost a bunch of weight and he told me today that it's true. He is colder this year. So you see? I will be literally fat and happy and also toasty warm, while I eat toast. Genius.

Don't you all wish you were as smart as me, Internet? Now, seriously, someone please call an ambulance.