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This year I totally have outsmarted Scrooge and The Grinch.

For the first time in several years I am not dreading the idea of Christmas.  In general–as in, every year except for this year–I am very Bah Humbugy about the whole Christmas Season.  I put The Grinch to shame.  Really.  Ok, I don’t necessarily try and stop Christmas from coming for entire towns worth of people, nor do I steal Who-Hash out of my neighbor’s pantries, or lie to children, but I can be pretty Grinchy.

I don’t know what exactly has changed about this year.  I have less free time than I ever have and I don’t necessarily have any Grand Plans for Christmas or anything.  I will most likely spend Christmas morning the way I have spent the last several Christmas mornings–in my own apartment eating Thai leftovers for breakfast and watching the snow fall.  That’s just my thing.  You may go to a family members house, or have family come to your house, spend the morning redecorating your living room in wrapping paper or going to some type of church service.  I eat Thai food and watch the snow. Don’t dis it, mmkay?  It’s tradition.  And I’m looking forward to it.

(It should be noted, at one point in the last several years–ok, last year–I spent Christmas morning with a family, doing the whole family-and-little-kids-and-presents-and-Santa bit and I felt so incredibly empty I actually ended up stealing away to the bathroom to have a little, private cry.  Maybe it was too much stress, or extraneous use of too much tape and wired ribbon, or maybe it was some bad eggnog…or maybe my heart really is three sizes too small?  I don’t know, but this year I’ll stick with Thai food, thankyouverymuch.)

I have never had a long, luxurious Christmas break.  Even when I was attending school full-time I was working for a major newspaper, which is printed every day–even Christmas–and regardless of the day or the week or holiday, there was always at least a half-crew working.  I’d have a day off, either Christmas Day or Christmas Eve, but never both.  As a result, my entire adult life I have had completely different Christmas and Holiday experiences from the traditions I grew up with.  My traditions–as a self-sufficient, independent adult, I feel like I can have my own traditions–are perhaps somewhat skewed from not only my family but also many of my friends in similar situations.  And that’s fine.

I’ve never really been all that traditional anyway, and am becoming less so every year.

It should not surprise anyone that while trying to come up with the “traditional” Christmas Wish List Blog Post I came up completely blank.  I don’t have an Amazon wish list.  I don’t even have a Post-it note.  My dad called the other day snooping around, looking for gift ideas and I had to try really hard to give him two half-way decent gift ideas.

Perhaps this is the reason for my un-Scrooginess this year?  I don’t know, but it very well may have something–or a lot of things–to do with this new heidikins.  Just like Sunday School teachers and prime-time Christmas Program’s have been telling us for years–it’s not about gifts; it’s about something more.  I am a little embarrassed to realize that I am twenty-six years old before this really hit me.  Now, Scrooge was considerably more gray and wrinkled when he figured it out; and, if Dicken’s is to be believed at all, Scrooge’s late-in-life change-of-heart somehow absolved him from years of stinginess.  The Grinch also was divorced from his lifetime of small-heartedness by a complete change in heart and desire to do good things–like carve the Roast Beast.  I like to think there is a little hope for me, even if I don’t own a counting house or know the first thing about carving a roast.

(While we’re on the subject of Scrooge–did anyone see Disney’s A Christmas Carol?  Hello, super scary!  I mean, I know Dicken’s is a realist and it’s supposed to be dark and all–but it was made and marketed as a kids/family movie!  Right?  Those ghosts were creepy!  You’ve got the bobble-head candle-flame ghost (bobble-head dolls are never a correct choice.  ever.), followed by the jolly green giant who not only has those creepy skeletal crazy-people pop out from under his robe but he turns to dust right in front of you!  While he’s laughing!  And the shiny-patent-black grim-reaper ghost?  Shudder.  And who decided that being chased through London by giant, shiny-black horses was horrifying?!  They should be shot because yes, actually, it was horrifying.  I really liked big black horses until I saw that movie.  I’m just sayin–this was creeptastic and I had nightmares the night I went to see it….which was perhaps the point…which may account for my desire to be as un-Scroogey as possible…which, if that is the case, means I owe Jim Carrey and Walt Disney both an apology and a thank you card…damn.)

(I realize that this somewhat-feel-good post has now been spoiled by my Christmas Carol rant…but hey, I’m just trying to keep it real.  Not everything can be wrapped up with a pretty, witty, grammatically accurate, cleverly flowing, and Deep Thought inspiring, sparkly bow.  Some things are just a little more real than that.)

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