AKA The One About Christmas Eve
A few moments ago, as I was putting my Christmas Eve dinner in the microwave - a Tupperware of Olive Garden I took from leftovers at work because I knew I would be too lazy to stop at HEB on my way home - I pondered about how pathetic I probably seem from the outside looking in. It's Christmas Eve and I'm alone. My choice, lest anyone think I'm playing the victim. There's no "Oh, poor me" about it. I've been fond of saying this year that "It's not my religion, not my holiday. Not my circus, not my monkeys." And it's true. I'm an atheist. What do I have to celebrate? Of course I could. Other atheists do. Again, it's my choice. Mine. But tonight for the first time in years, I did stop to ponder.
Part of it is gifts. Well, that and the debt they bring. I like buying things for people. When I find something perfect for them or something I know they need. I'll buy stuff year-round (when and if I have the money). I don't think I need to save it up for Christmas and then unleash an explosion of excess. And, really, let's call it what it is - I'm selfish. I will spend thousands on European travel but be hard pressed to drop $10 on a Starbucks gift card for someone I damn well know can buy their own. This year I bought one Christmas present. A friend adopted a family in dire need. I bought them pillows. Pillows. This mother and teenage daughter didn't have pillows. To sleep on. I'm not talking about $40 decorative throw pillows for the living room couch. I'm talking about bed pillows. So, look, even though I put the majority of my last overtime check in my travel account, I'm not as Grinchy as some might make me out.
The other part of it is people. For as much as I love some, I prefer to be alone. I can't think of one person (ok, maybe one) that I'd honestly want to give up my alone-time to be with. For any amount of time. On any day of the year. Even on Christmas. Or maybe especially on Christmas. I don't know. Who would that be, who could that be? Someone powerful enough to pull me out of myself and put me back into the world, even if it's just her world. Preferably just her world. Yeah, just her world. I can't imagine having to do family - my family, anyone's family. Truthfully, it makes me a little nauseous to think about. It's hard to back out on Christmas. Everyone loves Christmas. How can you miss Christmas? What if my introversion just couldn't take it and I needed to run and write and simply be rather having to be "on" all day? There'd be a fight. I can see it now.
What would it be like to celebrate? To want to leave work early because I had something, someone, to come home to? To buy gifts for? If there were traditions? Dinner, other than a container of leftovers? Togetherness? Something other than a laptop, these words, a cup of coffee, and Monday Night Football on the TV behind me?
I can't even imagine what that would look like, feel like, be like. Would I rebel in the face of it? Go to the gym instead of straight home from work? Get coffee and read a book at a coffee place open late on Christmas Eve? Would I take a long shower and crawl into bed just to avoid having to? To do what? Anything, anything at all. Would I take a walk, maybe with the dog or maybe without, to get away? Would I say "Just another minute. I need to finish this" knowing full well I had no intention of finishing anytime soon enough? What would she say? "I understand?" Doubtful. I'd have ruined Christmas, ruined her Christmas.
I said it couple paragraphs ago - I'm selfish. And I'm so used to it being just me that I have no idea how interact in the real world. No idea how to connect. And little desire to do either.
It's a bit safer this way. Easier, too. Less stressful. I'm an atheist. I don't celebrate Christmas. I don't celebrate any holidays for that matter. Not Thanksgiving, not Fourth of July, not Presidents' Day. None. Zero. You'd think I was a member of some odd religious cult. I do celebrate my birthday so at least there's that.
I think I'll close this out now. I hope I didn't bum anyone out. I may ponder about having something else, being someone else...but I'm good as is. I'm happy. Not happy enough. I am truly happy. This is who I am. This is what I do. I just happen to do it alone. Except for the dog. We're going to take a walk and look at Christmas lights as soon as I finish this. It's kind of our tradition, me and the dog. Six years now. For her, I'm willing to finish what I'm working on.
If only I liked people as well as I like dogs...
Part of it is gifts. Well, that and the debt they bring. I like buying things for people. When I find something perfect for them or something I know they need. I'll buy stuff year-round (when and if I have the money). I don't think I need to save it up for Christmas and then unleash an explosion of excess. And, really, let's call it what it is - I'm selfish. I will spend thousands on European travel but be hard pressed to drop $10 on a Starbucks gift card for someone I damn well know can buy their own. This year I bought one Christmas present. A friend adopted a family in dire need. I bought them pillows. Pillows. This mother and teenage daughter didn't have pillows. To sleep on. I'm not talking about $40 decorative throw pillows for the living room couch. I'm talking about bed pillows. So, look, even though I put the majority of my last overtime check in my travel account, I'm not as Grinchy as some might make me out.
The other part of it is people. For as much as I love some, I prefer to be alone. I can't think of one person (ok, maybe one) that I'd honestly want to give up my alone-time to be with. For any amount of time. On any day of the year. Even on Christmas. Or maybe especially on Christmas. I don't know. Who would that be, who could that be? Someone powerful enough to pull me out of myself and put me back into the world, even if it's just her world. Preferably just her world. Yeah, just her world. I can't imagine having to do family - my family, anyone's family. Truthfully, it makes me a little nauseous to think about. It's hard to back out on Christmas. Everyone loves Christmas. How can you miss Christmas? What if my introversion just couldn't take it and I needed to run and write and simply be rather having to be "on" all day? There'd be a fight. I can see it now.
What would it be like to celebrate? To want to leave work early because I had something, someone, to come home to? To buy gifts for? If there were traditions? Dinner, other than a container of leftovers? Togetherness? Something other than a laptop, these words, a cup of coffee, and Monday Night Football on the TV behind me?
I can't even imagine what that would look like, feel like, be like. Would I rebel in the face of it? Go to the gym instead of straight home from work? Get coffee and read a book at a coffee place open late on Christmas Eve? Would I take a long shower and crawl into bed just to avoid having to? To do what? Anything, anything at all. Would I take a walk, maybe with the dog or maybe without, to get away? Would I say "Just another minute. I need to finish this" knowing full well I had no intention of finishing anytime soon enough? What would she say? "I understand?" Doubtful. I'd have ruined Christmas, ruined her Christmas.
I said it couple paragraphs ago - I'm selfish. And I'm so used to it being just me that I have no idea how interact in the real world. No idea how to connect. And little desire to do either.
It's a bit safer this way. Easier, too. Less stressful. I'm an atheist. I don't celebrate Christmas. I don't celebrate any holidays for that matter. Not Thanksgiving, not Fourth of July, not Presidents' Day. None. Zero. You'd think I was a member of some odd religious cult. I do celebrate my birthday so at least there's that.
I think I'll close this out now. I hope I didn't bum anyone out. I may ponder about having something else, being someone else...but I'm good as is. I'm happy. Not happy enough. I am truly happy. This is who I am. This is what I do. I just happen to do it alone. Except for the dog. We're going to take a walk and look at Christmas lights as soon as I finish this. It's kind of our tradition, me and the dog. Six years now. For her, I'm willing to finish what I'm working on.
If only I liked people as well as I like dogs...
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