|
|
12:22 p.m. - December 25, 2001 It seems that every immediate family in this extended family except my own went completely nuts over Christmas. The tree was spilling over. the more they opened, the more would come pouring from the tree like some deranged coffeemaker with an endless supply of water... er, money. In this case, I mean, money, because think about it! DVD players, boxes filled with CDs, an office chair, silver coins, jewelry, remote controls, CD-MP3 players, headphones. Techie stuff really; but I just had to watch. I've been through this before, watching my cousins open present after present of expensive goodies while I had long ago exhausted my supply. My dad thinks his sisters' obsession with Christmas is disgusting. You can tell they feel bad for me, as they keep handing more and more packages to their own children, but really what I feel is only about half jealousy. The other half is disgust. Yeah, I'd like a bunch of expensive and useful things to take home with me, but this is over the fucking top. I mean it; twenty or thirty presents per person. Over the fucking top. I love my family, but I'm not sure once I have a choice that I'm going to be spending holidays with them. It all seems so forced and contrived, us all getting on a plane to stay in the same house and giving each other extravagant gifts, when really, most of what I do is read. We can't really talk to each other for longer than a day. I'd much rather be spending the money and the vacation time on a skiing holiday with my friends or even just in a rented cottage with my friends, the 'chosen family' if you will, celebrating whatever holiday spirit is left by now together with the ones I choose to be with. Tomorrow my three cousins and I go to New York City. I'm going to be a burden to them; not of drinking age; they can't take me into bars with them or anything. I kind of suspect their itinerary has to do with the shells of the WTCs and a whole lot of shopping. They're all nice; unbearably nice, but we're not on the same level. I just want to stroll down the street taking pictures and sketching and writing, and at night, maybe going to a concert or something. I don't want to shop in a fucking department stoes or pricey little boutiques. Now that I think about it, I'm not really sure what I would want to do. Defacing stuff is the first thing that comes to mind; I saw a beautiful gray brick church with a yellow steeple that was ugly as hell. I want to paint it gray in the dead of night. I want to make a work of sidewalk chalk art right smack in the centre of Fifth Avenue. They're have to set up barricades while I worked. Mostly I want a lover to ride the Navy Pier ferris wheel with back in Chicago. But it's the wrong state. I miss the freedom I haven't got yet. And my dad just came up the stairs and told me I couldn't be antisocial even if the gift giving was so disgusting. He said it makes him want to throw everything away.
----
|