Call me a Scrooge, but I've found that the last couple of years Christmas just hasn't carried the same sense of wonder and excitement it once did. When I was a kid, I was ready to pee my pants every day in December just thinking about the twenty-fifth, which crept closer so slowly that the month was always filled with blissfully tortuous anticipation. The sense of suspense, the agony of not knowing what the fantastically wrapped boxes contained, was only heightened by the lights, the music, the snow, and everything you knew meant it was Christmas time. Back then, my heart's desires cost about twenty bucks and, tragically, seemed both completely unobtainable and the key to my whole life's happiness. This was the season, then, when miracles of a very practical kind could happen; objects only admired on the shelf, or at a friend's, or in some abstract sense of obsession could literally become my own and wind up, eventually, in pieces somewhere in my closet.
I like to consider myself a little more sophisticated now, and consequently it takes a bit more than a cheap toy to make my day. And anyway, anything I really want that badly I can just go out and buy – that's why I force myself to go to work every day. So what does Christmas have left to offer me? Many adults seem to enjoy the season as a time to be with family, but now my family lives five minutes away and I see them once a week, so there's hardly anything special there. All this adds up to make Christmas seem very anti-climatic this year. The thing thats seemed the most appealing so far is the two days off of work, and thats a depressingly low drop on the anticipation scale from ten, fifteen years ago.
Perhaps this is another symptom of a greater problem in my life: I just can't seem to grasp the fact that I'm a grown-up now. I'm constantly having to remind myself of this fact. When I was twelve, twenty-four seemed impossibly old and mature, a time in life when work, bills, sex, and babies would all seem natural and appropriate - not video games, practical jokes, sleepovers, and the word “cooties.” But now that I'm here, I find myself pulled in two separate directions: the pull to become a man and put away childish things, and a deep reluctance, I daresay a total phobia, of parting with those remnants of a simpler age and dealing with the complicated mess of the adult world. This explains, at least in part, my disappointment with Christmas lately: I want so desperately to experience it the way I did as a child, but am finding it increasingly difficult if not impossible to do so. You can't go back to Neverland.
Yesterday, I decided that it was time to do a little Christmas shopping. This is the first year when I've had a full-time job with a decent income, so this rightfully is the first year that I need to take buying gifts seriously. Nobody really expects a poor college student to buy many presents, but now that I'm graduated and working its a whole new ballgame. When my roommates put nicely wrapped packages under the tree for me, I remember quite suddenly that I would be expected to do the same for them. I knew this, of course, somewhere in the back of my mind, but I'd grown so used to not being expected to give many gifts for one reason or another that it took a little time for the idea to impress itself upon my mind. I don't want anybody to think that I'm selfish or stingy with money or anything. On the contrary, I have no problem spending money on my friends and family – I am more than happy to do so. But buying presents for people is difficult and exhausting, as I was to find out on my trip to the mall last night.
Like many men, I find the concept of secretly buying things for people very difficult, though I personally enjoy the suspense of not knowing what somebody has given me. The problem is figuring out what that person would like. If it were simply a matter of somebody pointing out what they wanted, then buying it and giving it to them, this would all be a piece of cake. But I am also aware, in theory, that the effort and stress put into finding a suitable present is as nice to get as the gift itself. We like to know that somebody cares enough to put time into it. When I arrived at the mall, I decided I would just browse the various shops while trying to think like the people on my gift list until I found something they would like. This turned out to be very difficult, and when I wandered into the video game store, I knew I was failing.
“OK,” I said to myself, “What would Person A want, if he were here? Let's see... he's very practical. He's probably one of those people who likes getting socks and underwear for Christmas. And every time he comes to the mall he looks at clothes. Lets try that.”
It was a breakthrough - I'd never think of looking at clothes when shopping for myself. Encouraged by this progress, I entered the Gap and began searching for something suitable. It was at this point I realized that all the clothing looked the same to me. This sweater seems nice, but would he like it? What size does he wear anyway? I have no idea! Socks are one size fit all, practically, but can I really live with myself if I got somebody socks for Christmas? I looked around, dazed and overwhelmed and not at all sure what the heck I should do. I fingered a few shirts as if considering their texture and quality, but really I was just stalling.
“Can I help you, sir?” asked the salesman/clothes model.
“I doubt it,” I said, and shuffled out of the store. I tried three other stores with exactly the same results. The last thing I wanted was to buy something that had to be returned on the twenty-sixth because it was the wrong size or some hideous color that clashed with somebody's entire wardrobe, so, being unable to make an informed purchasing decision, I decided to try something else. I wondered through most of the mall with largely the same result. Eventually, however, I did make a few purchases, though far fewer than I had planned. I told myself I'd try a different mall next week, or maybe look online, but secretly I knew that I was only procrastinating the difficult process. Before leaving, I stopped a little booth to have my merchandise gift-wrapped.
It was here, while waiting for the nice lady to wrap up my presents, that I began to feel very grown up and mature. Here I was, buying presents like an adult, like my parents. I'd have real presents to put under the tree, nicely packaged with a little bow and ribbon. I leaned against the booth, trying to look very suave and sophisticated. I'm buying presents, I emoted, with my own money and on my very busy schedule because I'm a successful but generous man with many friends and relations. I promptly knocked over several display gifts at the booth and spent a few moments trying pathetically to set them back upright and looking as perfectly placed as they did before, which I think probably ruined the whole image I was trying to set up. I laid a ribbon I had accidentally torn off on top of one of the boxes in the nicest way I could, took my packages, and left the people at the booth a big tip to apologize.
When I got home and placed the packages under our admittedly beautiful Christmas tree, I realized suddenly how excited I was for the big day. I didn't much care for the boxes with my name written on top. I wasn't imagining, as I did as a kid, their possible contents, or the fun and pleasure I would derive from them. I was thinking about the look on my friends' and family's faces when they opened the gifts that I had laboriously picked out for them. I was thinking about the joy and happiness they would get from my efforts. Suddenly, Christmas seemed a wonderful and beautiful and perfect thing that made me shake with excitement from head to toe, and I felt filled with love and light and happy to be alive. I understood, perhaps for the first time in my life (despite all the TV specials, despite all the talks in church and lectures in school) the magic of Christmas, the joy of the season, and the fulfillment of giving. I drank a glass of Egg Nog in celebration of my newfound enthusiasm for the holidays.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have a lot more gifts to buy....
I like to consider myself a little more sophisticated now, and consequently it takes a bit more than a cheap toy to make my day. And anyway, anything I really want that badly I can just go out and buy – that's why I force myself to go to work every day. So what does Christmas have left to offer me? Many adults seem to enjoy the season as a time to be with family, but now my family lives five minutes away and I see them once a week, so there's hardly anything special there. All this adds up to make Christmas seem very anti-climatic this year. The thing thats seemed the most appealing so far is the two days off of work, and thats a depressingly low drop on the anticipation scale from ten, fifteen years ago.
Perhaps this is another symptom of a greater problem in my life: I just can't seem to grasp the fact that I'm a grown-up now. I'm constantly having to remind myself of this fact. When I was twelve, twenty-four seemed impossibly old and mature, a time in life when work, bills, sex, and babies would all seem natural and appropriate - not video games, practical jokes, sleepovers, and the word “cooties.” But now that I'm here, I find myself pulled in two separate directions: the pull to become a man and put away childish things, and a deep reluctance, I daresay a total phobia, of parting with those remnants of a simpler age and dealing with the complicated mess of the adult world. This explains, at least in part, my disappointment with Christmas lately: I want so desperately to experience it the way I did as a child, but am finding it increasingly difficult if not impossible to do so. You can't go back to Neverland.
Yesterday, I decided that it was time to do a little Christmas shopping. This is the first year when I've had a full-time job with a decent income, so this rightfully is the first year that I need to take buying gifts seriously. Nobody really expects a poor college student to buy many presents, but now that I'm graduated and working its a whole new ballgame. When my roommates put nicely wrapped packages under the tree for me, I remember quite suddenly that I would be expected to do the same for them. I knew this, of course, somewhere in the back of my mind, but I'd grown so used to not being expected to give many gifts for one reason or another that it took a little time for the idea to impress itself upon my mind. I don't want anybody to think that I'm selfish or stingy with money or anything. On the contrary, I have no problem spending money on my friends and family – I am more than happy to do so. But buying presents for people is difficult and exhausting, as I was to find out on my trip to the mall last night.
Like many men, I find the concept of secretly buying things for people very difficult, though I personally enjoy the suspense of not knowing what somebody has given me. The problem is figuring out what that person would like. If it were simply a matter of somebody pointing out what they wanted, then buying it and giving it to them, this would all be a piece of cake. But I am also aware, in theory, that the effort and stress put into finding a suitable present is as nice to get as the gift itself. We like to know that somebody cares enough to put time into it. When I arrived at the mall, I decided I would just browse the various shops while trying to think like the people on my gift list until I found something they would like. This turned out to be very difficult, and when I wandered into the video game store, I knew I was failing.
“OK,” I said to myself, “What would Person A want, if he were here? Let's see... he's very practical. He's probably one of those people who likes getting socks and underwear for Christmas. And every time he comes to the mall he looks at clothes. Lets try that.”
It was a breakthrough - I'd never think of looking at clothes when shopping for myself. Encouraged by this progress, I entered the Gap and began searching for something suitable. It was at this point I realized that all the clothing looked the same to me. This sweater seems nice, but would he like it? What size does he wear anyway? I have no idea! Socks are one size fit all, practically, but can I really live with myself if I got somebody socks for Christmas? I looked around, dazed and overwhelmed and not at all sure what the heck I should do. I fingered a few shirts as if considering their texture and quality, but really I was just stalling.
“Can I help you, sir?” asked the salesman/clothes model.
“I doubt it,” I said, and shuffled out of the store. I tried three other stores with exactly the same results. The last thing I wanted was to buy something that had to be returned on the twenty-sixth because it was the wrong size or some hideous color that clashed with somebody's entire wardrobe, so, being unable to make an informed purchasing decision, I decided to try something else. I wondered through most of the mall with largely the same result. Eventually, however, I did make a few purchases, though far fewer than I had planned. I told myself I'd try a different mall next week, or maybe look online, but secretly I knew that I was only procrastinating the difficult process. Before leaving, I stopped a little booth to have my merchandise gift-wrapped.
It was here, while waiting for the nice lady to wrap up my presents, that I began to feel very grown up and mature. Here I was, buying presents like an adult, like my parents. I'd have real presents to put under the tree, nicely packaged with a little bow and ribbon. I leaned against the booth, trying to look very suave and sophisticated. I'm buying presents, I emoted, with my own money and on my very busy schedule because I'm a successful but generous man with many friends and relations. I promptly knocked over several display gifts at the booth and spent a few moments trying pathetically to set them back upright and looking as perfectly placed as they did before, which I think probably ruined the whole image I was trying to set up. I laid a ribbon I had accidentally torn off on top of one of the boxes in the nicest way I could, took my packages, and left the people at the booth a big tip to apologize.
When I got home and placed the packages under our admittedly beautiful Christmas tree, I realized suddenly how excited I was for the big day. I didn't much care for the boxes with my name written on top. I wasn't imagining, as I did as a kid, their possible contents, or the fun and pleasure I would derive from them. I was thinking about the look on my friends' and family's faces when they opened the gifts that I had laboriously picked out for them. I was thinking about the joy and happiness they would get from my efforts. Suddenly, Christmas seemed a wonderful and beautiful and perfect thing that made me shake with excitement from head to toe, and I felt filled with love and light and happy to be alive. I understood, perhaps for the first time in my life (despite all the TV specials, despite all the talks in church and lectures in school) the magic of Christmas, the joy of the season, and the fulfillment of giving. I drank a glass of Egg Nog in celebration of my newfound enthusiasm for the holidays.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have a lot more gifts to buy....
Comments
So Matt, what do you want for Christmas? ;)
Have fun shopping! Next time you get baffled, though, just call a girl, they are naturally born shoppers... most of them. Sayj
This is SOOO random, but it has been bugging me ALL YEAR! You were in Natham the Wise last year.
The End.
Anywho... I, for the LIFE of me, can't remember what you looked like! I know you were the servant and were hilarious... but I don't remember anything else. It, seriously,has been bugging me ALL YEAR, no joke.
So. Can you send me a picture if you have any? Or something. Before I go... crazy... Thanks. SJ