Yeah, that’s been kind of a revelation to me. I realized I had a choice in the matter. I could continue to follow my time-honored seasonal mode which has been, for years, to attest that Yuletide and all that that entails is a bunch of overcommercialized crap in which people give themselves an excuse to overindulge every aspect of their being.
They spend too much; they eat to much; they drink too much; they exhaust themselves and then they cannot understand why they plummet to the depths of a depression that would even wipe that perpetual beatific smile off the Dalai Lama’s puss and render him to ask: “What the hell is it all about?”
What I traditionally did to counterattack the post-Christmas blahs is get my ill-spiritedness in ahead of time by decrying all aspects of the season from the music to the decorations to the %$#&& TV ads that seem to begin before Labor Day these days. “Humbug” was too mild a word for my crankiness about all the Jolly Old St. Nick shit.
And then the revelation came to me. December is essentially the awfulest month of the year. The weather is atrocious, it’s dark much of the time and spring is a very long way off. It contains the longest night of the year to boot. Added to which, I am a bit afflicted with SADS, so it’s all a losing proposition.
This year I decided to change. I made a conscious choice. I was going to ‘like’ Christmas if it killed me. I was going to have an inner Solstice Festival. I wasn’t going to exasperatedly change stations on my car radio whenever Christmas music was played. Well, except for that (choose any profane expletive adjective you like) Little Drummer Boy. Sorry, you obnoxious little weasel, you didn’t make my personal cut. I mean, think about it. In the first place they didn’t have drumstick using drums in the days of Jesus’ birth. And secondly, Mary has just managed to get the kid to go to sleep in his crappy manger bed and along comes this little creep ‘rumpa-pum-pumping’ all over the place. And no, kid, he didn’t smile at you. Newborns don’t smile. It was probably gas.
But, with that not so notable exception, I have really been quite enjoying myself. I’ve virtually done all my Christmas shopping and truly enjoyed doing so. I have listened to Christmas music and even bought a double CD to listen to while the tree was going up. And the tree is up and decorated. And there are outside lights in place. All cards, meanwhile, have been sent and all that is left is for stockings to be hung by the chimney with care and my specialty eggs benedict to be made for Christmas morning. Oh, and I made sugar cookies, too. And they turned out great. And we’ve driven around town looking at lights on houses and I haven’t once expressed disgust at the ‘vulgarity’ of it all.
Of course this could all mean I’m losing my marbles. But I’m liking it.