Bah Humbug... Or Something Like That...

Christmas time is here again and I'm rapidly turning into the Grinch. Well, not exactly... I mean... Its just that Christmas has always been wretchedly hard on me. Even as a kid, I hated Christmas.

When I was little, I never looked forward to Christmas. Sure, new toys and whatnot was great, but it always felt like my parents (and other adult family) were trying to buy me off -- like they were trying to make up for a whole year's worth of neglect and abuse in one shot. Maybe I should be grateful that they even tried to make up for everything, but somehow the idea that a barbie doll and some legos are recompense for an extreme lack of love and affection sickens me. How is it that a spirograph is supposed to make up for a year's worth of being screamed at for no reason? How does a care bear make up for a year's worth being hit and slapped? Is a new sketch book supposed to give me love and support when there's no one around to rely on? Or maybe I should call a new set of colored pencils to come pick me up when I get thrown out of the house barefoot -- again.

And now that I'm older, Christmas has turned into nothing more than an extended financial transaction. The pretense of thoughtful gifts has gone completely out the window. I show up for an awkward gathering of family who barely know each other, and get a check, or a couple of gift cards for my trouble. Does that sound even remotely like Christmas to you? It sure as hell doesn't to me.

The best Christmas I ever had, had nothing to do with my family at all. In highschool I went through a very Christian phase -- went to church and youth groups and Christian Camp and the whole deal. There was a family at church who was really down on their luck -- both parents were out of work, had virtually no money to speak of, three kids to take care of... Our pastor and his wife had taken them in, but even so, they weren't going to have much of a Christmas. So my best friend (at the time) and I pooled a little bit of money, and decided to play Santa for them. We didn't buy anything extravagant, just small toys, games, little treats... But you should have seen how happy those kids were. And the look of relief and gratitude on their parents' faces... That was Christmas. That made the whole year worth while. I didn't need anything else for Christmas. Just the looks on their faces was enough -- more than enough.

I wish Christmas could be like that again. I wish it could be about small gestures, and heartfelt good wishes. I wish... "the thought" still counted.

But we don't know each other anymore. We don't think about what would truly make one another happy, because we can't be bothered. Its all about making ourselves look good, about showing everyone how great we are, not about showing everyone how great we think they are.

The crowds at the stores prove it to me -- the hustle and bustle, the fighting over the last of the "best gifts"... What ever happened to "peace and good will towards men"??

Is it really any wonder that I hate Christmas so much when all it is now is one big spending contest?

I don't want fancy gifts. I never have. All I've ever wanted is to be shown that I'm thought about, and cared about. Throwing money at me doesn't do that. A small trinket, even something worthless or silly, means more to me if the person giving it says "when I saw this, I immediately thought of you." But doing it that way requires time... And time isn't something most people have much of anymore. I know I don't. I've got two jobs, a kid... And no maid. I don't even have the time to do my laundry, let alone spend hours and hours picking out personalized gifts for everyone. But at the same time, i'm not happy just getting people gift cards. I'm not happy buying into the thoughtless materialism that Christmas has become symbolic of. Its not me, and it feels wrong.

So yeah, I'd like to just skip Christmas. Just forget about gifts and uncomfortable family gatherings, and have the time to spend with the people that matter most to me. Because really, THAT is what Christmas should be all about.

Dreams...

It's funny the things your mind does when you're asleep... Well... Sometimes it's funny, and sometimes it's scary as fuck.

For the most part, I don't dream. At least, if I do, I don't remember it. That's not a hard rule, but it's true at least 90% of the time. Except lately.

For the past two weeks, I've been dreaming every time I fall asleep -- even on the train in the morning -- and not pleasant dreams either. I've been having intensely vivid and frighteningly real nightmares. You know, the kind that shock you awake then follow you around echoing in your ears all day and flashing in front of your eyes when you least expect it.

There's something about these dreams though... They're not exactly just dreams. I mean, yes, I dream them, but instead of them being random shit generated by my subconscious, they're memories. Very old, horrific memories. Things that actually happened. Things I don't want to remember. Things I don't even want to think about remembering.

And now, here they are, insinuating themselves into my dreams, then chasing me into wakefulness... Refusing to be ignored or forgotten once more.

It's like my own mind is stalking me... And it makes me feel afraid to sleep, afraid to be alone...

The two states I spend most of my time in. *sigh*