Christmas

Thanksgiving is over (it was quite lovely, actually, and I'll be having another when I go home after the quarter ends), and that means it's now The Holiday Season. The lights are going up and stores are pumping in kitschy Christmas music with one or two Hanukkah songs thrown in for good measure. Everything is red and green and glittery and peppermint and pumpkin.

And I am trying so hard to not be a Scrooge.

The thing is, I don't really like Christmas all that much. It builds up this Norman Rockwell expectation that inevitably proves unrealistic. I'm poor, my family is split into two states, and I'm not even Christian, so the whole religious aspect, which could be very satisfying, is lost on me. For me, Christmas eventually boils down to people bitching about their right to say "Merry Christmas" and the sale of a lot of socks and candy. Granted, Christmas with my family is nice, we have a good time together, but it seems like the season in which everyone is supposed to come together and be pleasant actually ends with the general public trying to kill every other person in sight for an Elmo doll. Not that Elmo dolls aren't cool.

But the point is, knowing all these things and letting them bother me are two different things entirely. I've done the Scrooge gig. It's tiring, and, interestingly enough, not all that fun. So this year, I am trying something different.

I am going to be jolly. Even if it kills me. I'd rather just enjoy the season for what it is, dive head first into the consumerism and the poorly written songs, and enjoy myself. High horses are great if you want to feel superior, but frankly, I'd rather have fun.

Now where are the candy canes?

- Jazz