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Thursday, December 25, 2008

welcome to the world of the grinch


Here I am, once again, in front of the PC.

It is Christmas morning but it doesnt seem like it is any different from all of my other mornings. It seems ordinary. Nothing is special today.

Probably the biggest difference between today and all my other morning is that there is a lot of food on the table.But other than that it all seems the same.

I am tired because I stayed up too late last night, but that is something I always do. I had just woken up, but I want to go back to sleep again. That is something I always feel. Fortunately, today I can do that, because I do not have work. After all, it is a holiday. But I do not feel any difference between today and any other holiday. In my mind, they are all the same. However, the moment I turn on my TV, I am reminded that today, Christmas Day, is supposed to be special.

earlier, I woke up because there was a huge earthquake. Obviously, that does not happen very often; and it was actually quite noteworthy.I mean, how often do I get to experience that?

I had a lot of pizza and fried chicken...for breakfast; and that does not happen often too.I ate breakfast with my cousins whom I have not seen for a year now. Obviously, breakfast with these little brats does not happen often either.

Most people would gather these pieces of information and conclude that today is quite different from any other day; one might even say today is special. Not me.

I feel like I have been here before. This tired-sleepy-full feeling is something I'm terribly familiar with. To me, nothing seems authentically new.

Yes, it is Christmas, the most special day of the year for the young-at-heart. However, I am still sitting beside myself wondering why I am not excited; why I do not feel giddy for this once-a-year happening.

And then I realize, this might be the effect of the cause we call maturity. Maybe all the good things we hear about Christmas is fluff. Maybe the real meaning of Christmas is not as deep and profound as everyone makes it to be? Maybe Christmas is reserved for the young-at-heart because the true meaning of Christmas is being excited about opening gifts. Some people would say this is the most childish reason for Christmas, but if you really think about it, aren't we all just victims of commercialism and fairytale-esque realities? Maybe the reason why I have stopped getting excited for Christmas is because I have chosen to stop being materialistic.

Gone are the days when I would come to school after Christmas break with my new bag, new ball pens, new shoes, new pens, and new perfume.

This year, I have no classmates to boast to, I did not have new pens to boast of, and quite frankly, I have ceased to feel the urge to boast.

I mean, they say Christmas is about family and giving, and rainbows, reindeer, and snow, and funny giant elves who creep into your home at night. But I live with my family, and we see each other everyday; and I do not need a special day just to appreciate what my family has, and what we share. And to whom should I give to? To my family and friends who have everything they need?

I don't know. I'm not quite sure about anything I just said, but my point is: the only reason I got excited for Christmas as a child was because I wanted to open gifts. Nothing more, nothing less.

And now that I have ceased to be materialistic, there is no need to be excited for anything any more.

This is not sad, it is not tragic. It just is.


confession:

Now I understand why Christmas is for kids. Unlike adults, they have the license to be materialistic, without being snubbed upon by society. And the good thing is, they do not even expect much. They take whatever material thing they are gifted with and treat it like it is the best gift they have ever received.

But once you have failed Christmas expectations, you slowly become a jaded Christmas elf; afraid of having Yuletide expectations, afraid of getting excited for the season, and afraid of letting the fabled "Christmas Spirit" take over.

Welcome to the world of the Grinch.