this is on my myspace too
It's that magical time of year when you drive for hours in shitty weather to be with people you HAVE to see once a year, families come together for the yearly-bitchfests, turkey's get slaughtered en masse, and by Decemeber 24, you're so broke that you've sold you're first born child so that every one else can have a Merry/Happy fucking Christmahannukwanza.
When almost every Thankgiving ends up with my divorced parents screaming eachother, and Christmas finishes with someone in drunken tears, you have to be somewhat jaded by the fact that previous holidays have made you pretty depressed.
And you have to question the "special Christmas" when your dad is an Athiest. Or the time spent with your mother, when it's usually her who ends up crying at Christmas dinner.
Maybe it's the whole family dynamic of of the holidays that bother's me. Maybe it's the pettiness that I've seen mine, and my friends families suffer through. Maybe it's because I have my own skeletons in my closet that make the holidays somewhat unbearable.
The most interesting part of this blog is probably this though, I love Christmas and Thanksgiving.
Yes, I admit it.
There's something really great about how every year my dad forces us to decorate the tree together, as a family, how every year my mother's house is split down the middle with Channukah decorations and Christmas decorations, how every Christmas eve I have gotten to see my cousins progress into the awkward teenage years, and have discernable conversations with them, to see Margot prance around in her cute little red-velvet dress, white tights, and patent leather shoes, how my friends all somehow manage to dress up and go to a party where almost immediately we start bitching about how uncomfortable we all are, only to go out in the freezing cold to smoke, how everyone likes being at my house drinking hot cider and listening to George Winston's The Snowman.
But I guess the attempt to try and make everything perfect (as so many of our families do) is something that sticks with you. My mom and dad always want the best Christmas/Channukah ever, and even though it will never happen, they still try anyways. To try and show your family you love them that much to try and make everything absolutely perfect is something that will sit with me for the rest of my life.
And, no matter what happens, one imparts the holidays with a good story, at least.
I hope when I have children I can make thier Christmas's equally memorable, if not, more dysfunctional.
When almost every Thankgiving ends up with my divorced parents screaming eachother, and Christmas finishes with someone in drunken tears, you have to be somewhat jaded by the fact that previous holidays have made you pretty depressed.
And you have to question the "special Christmas" when your dad is an Athiest. Or the time spent with your mother, when it's usually her who ends up crying at Christmas dinner.
Maybe it's the whole family dynamic of of the holidays that bother's me. Maybe it's the pettiness that I've seen mine, and my friends families suffer through. Maybe it's because I have my own skeletons in my closet that make the holidays somewhat unbearable.
The most interesting part of this blog is probably this though, I love Christmas and Thanksgiving.
Yes, I admit it.
There's something really great about how every year my dad forces us to decorate the tree together, as a family, how every year my mother's house is split down the middle with Channukah decorations and Christmas decorations, how every Christmas eve I have gotten to see my cousins progress into the awkward teenage years, and have discernable conversations with them, to see Margot prance around in her cute little red-velvet dress, white tights, and patent leather shoes, how my friends all somehow manage to dress up and go to a party where almost immediately we start bitching about how uncomfortable we all are, only to go out in the freezing cold to smoke, how everyone likes being at my house drinking hot cider and listening to George Winston's The Snowman.
But I guess the attempt to try and make everything perfect (as so many of our families do) is something that sticks with you. My mom and dad always want the best Christmas/Channukah ever, and even though it will never happen, they still try anyways. To try and show your family you love them that much to try and make everything absolutely perfect is something that will sit with me for the rest of my life.
And, no matter what happens, one imparts the holidays with a good story, at least.
I hope when I have children I can make thier Christmas's equally memorable, if not, more dysfunctional.