Irrelivant to this article but I had to show you my new dog! Will be writing about her soon :) |
I hate Christmas. For some reason whenever I share this with
someone they gasp in horror and make the sign of the cross, but I do. I hate it.
I do not hate my family. Or
eating. But those pleasures can be
partaken in without the colossal level of fuss that must be made in the lead up
to December 25th.
I feel ambushed by the blaring
advertising that begins around August and ramps up from there. I could be happily watching the TV or reading
the paper when my anxiety is suddenly and cruelly tweaked by the reminder that
YOU NEED TO BUY YOUR LOVED ONE THIS JUICE MACHINE THAT YOU CAN’T AFFORD AND
YOU’RE RUNNING OUT OF TIME DAMMIT. The
anxiety then mixes itself in with guilt and self-berating in a poisonous mental
cocktail. You don’t have the juice
machine. Can’t afford the juice
machine. Could afford it if you didn’t
spend so much on yourself. Are just
making excuses because you don’t want to endure the depravity of Highpoint Shopping Town.
Which brings me to Highpoint Shopping Town. I live near there but I really really hate
that place. And places of that
nature. They stink of everything that is
wrong with humanity. And of sweaty boys
because there are heaps of them hanging around in their uniforms trying to
communicate with the pubescent girls. I
find it wholly depressing that our number one Holiday Destination is an
emporium dedicated unapologetically to the art of consumerism. It brings on a peculiar kind of sadness
traipsing around the isles trying to get inspired to shop. A feeling of emptiness and of being lost
because that place is a fucking maze.
Then once you’ve finally bought the bloody juice machine you’ve got to
walk like ten K’s back to your car in the searing heat and you always forget to
put the silver car insulating thingy up.
My relatives are all really nice
but they like to have Christmas where they live, on the Mornington Peninsula. To get to the Morning Peninsula
you need a car, and to get back in that car you need to not be drunk. And what is Christmas without getting
drunk? Last Christmas we were considering
staying over at someone’s place, but the host’s house was full, as was my
Auntie’s near by place, unless we had a tent.
Did we have a tent?
If you like to be sane, you should
really have a list of Christmas presents that require purchasing, and that list
should be gradually accounted for throughout the preceding months. I apparently do not like to be sane, because
I inevitably find myself sprinting around in a crazed rage on December 24th,
screaming at Tom on the phone to ‘TAKE THAT ONE BACK! IT’S THE LEMON SCENTED
CANDLE THAT YOU’RE GETTING YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING LOUT!’ while pushing some
elderly person out of the way to get to the I-lost-my-leg-but-not-my-lust-for-life
book for mum.
I also am not a fan of the whole
overly PC let’s-be-sensitive-to-non-Christians-thing. The holiday is called Christmas. I’m pretty sure Muslim people are aware of
this and are suitably non-offended as to be able to survive the occasion. You refraining from saying ‘Merry Christmas’
to them and instead saying, while you pat yourself on the back, ‘Happy
Holidays’, is akin to them dreaming up some euphemistic greeting to mask the
offensiveness of Eid Al-Fitr. Redundant
and kind of patronizing.
I am not noble enough to provide a
theoretical argument to justify my complaining.
You know, ‘Christmas isn’t about love and Christ anymore it’s just one
big exercise in consumerism and greed’- that kind of thing. I don’t really mind what it’s about. I just mind that it stresses me the feck out
and is a major anxiety trigger. New
Years, on the other hand, New Years I like.
All you have to do come December 31st is take your brand new
Mastiff puppy to Edinborough Gardens and drink shit loads of Champagne.
At least, that’s all I’m planning on doing. Happy New Year everyone and thankyou so much
for supporting me this year! Katie xxx
Great writing.
ReplyDeleteThanks Kerrie :)
Delete