Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmakah

Remember when you were a kid - Christmas, Chanukah (Hanukah, Chanuka, Hanuka, Hannukah, etc.) or whatever holiday you and yours celebrated brought nothing but joy and excitement (I guess Kwanzaa is really the only one left this time of year, but as a kid I'm not sure I knew anyone who celebrated it. I vaguely recall the town green-if you will-including some Kwanzaa symbol alongside the Christmas tree and the menorah, but this is where I acknowledge my ignorance and admit I cannot offhand recall a symbol representative of Kwanzaa. I suppose that admission is worthy of a whole other blog post. Anyway I digress...).  Being the product of an inter-faith marriage, I had the best of both worlds.  Forget 8 crazy nights, I got 9 days of presents. (Niner is finer).  And, I suspect I still found plenty of ways to complain that my gifts while piled high, were not quite high enough.  Ohh, it’s amazing the perception that accompanies the aging process.  Aha, I HAVE gained more than gray hair and wrinkles! (I actually haven’t gained those yet, but I fear they are just looming barely below the surface, waiting to make their appearance at the most inopportune time imaginable.  For your benefit, I won’t waste time listing examples of such potential times, I’m sure you can come up with some stellar examples on your own.)  School closed for winter break and we were given 10 or more days to just enjoy our new presents, spend time with friends and family and bask in the holiday glow.   (Incidentally, it turns out most of my friends still enjoy this lifestyle.  For reasons I don’t fully understand, this benefit is not limited to just teachers.  In case we needed further evidence that I had chosen the wrong career path, the luxury seating on the 6 train every December 27^th surely drills the point home.)  Decorations lit the neighborhoods, family trips to NYC to see the Radio City Christmas Spectacular were magical (I stand by my belief that I would have been an awesome rockette, damn my stunted height) and there was simply no growing tired of Christmas songs on the radio.  And, not least of all, we were surrounded by friends and family at all times - there was certainly no lack of love at the holidays.  For these reasons, and so many others that I’m sure have been touched upon in other posts or will be addressed in future ones, I propose my life might have peaked at age 10.  While I’m not suggesting I’ve turned into some sort of Scrooge in adulthood – indeed, I rock a Santa hat with the best of the nice Jewish girls on the block – I have lost a bit of that holiday spirit. 

Have you placed your bets on why?  Well, there are lots of reasons.  And, even my friends who live semi-charmed lives can appreciate a handful of them; the rest of the reasons will likely just make them uncomfortable, since to quote a friend describing this type of person the other day, people who shit rainbows and this time of year – elves – don’t want to be bothered by your problems, your struggles, and especially your tears.  (That is, of course, a whole other story, but now that I’ve said it, take a minute and think about it.  Have you ever noticed how when you’re feeling down on life, on yourself, and there’s simply no room for the positivity train, these friends tend to just slump away or change the subject?  I don’t begrudge them for their happy, seemingly perfect existences.  In fact, I’ll own it, I totally envy them, but no matter what life throws at me, good or bad, I will always be somewhat grateful for my ability to relate, to “get it”.  I've found that empathy and compassion are truly underrated traits, having your advice valued is not something to regard lightly and being someone's shoulder to cry on is mostly a privilege, not a burden...and that's a point I meant to make the other day when having this discussion).  


But anyway, back to the topic at hand, as I’ve said time and time again, there are few things that annoy me more than tourists.  It’s not that I don’t appreciate what they do for the economy or that I don’t think they should have the chance to see the splendor that is my city, but I just wish they’d look and keep moving.  NYC is always full of tourists, but there are never as many as during the holiday season.  And while I realize they are on vacation and that’s oh so nice for them, I am not.  So, when their masses delay my arrival to work – and more importantly my arrival home from work – I am none too pleased about their presence.  I am even less pleased when they being here means I can’t take a cab....anywhere.  The entire month of December is like trying to get a cab in the rain.  It’s damn near impossible.  It makes attending holiday dinners and cocktail parties an exhausting process. (Actually, today I experienced rain-in December-in midtown, and I’m fairly certain if there is a hell, I am now well equipped to handle it.  Notably, that makes me quite happy that Jews don't believe in hell.  Best Chanukah present ever.)  An impossible commute does a remarkable job of killing the holiday spirit.  And, the subways are overcrowded too, with people carrying maps they can’t read and asking you if the train goes to a stop they are not pronouncing even close to correctly, a pronunciation so butchered that you’re not even confident you’re giving them the right answer (which only occurs after they don’t buy your ‘point to the headphones and shrug your shoulders while shaking your head' move).  To me the worst thing about tourists on the subway is the way they clog the platform.  No, I don’t mean as a result of their sheer numbers, I mean they walk down the stairs and they just stop.  All of them.  Like a massive force field, blocking your ability to walk to the other side of the platform, where you belong.  Some don’t even make it all the way down the stairs because it appears there is nowhere to go, but there is!  There’s like 50 feet in each direction of emptiness. Gah! Nothing like missing a train (which of course has plenty of room just 20 feet away) to make you curse the holiday season. 

Even those who are not 'without' this holiday season are likely without someone that used to be a fixture in their holiday festivities.  Traditions become tainted by the changes and it is hard not to find yourself reminiscing, remembering the way things were (often with rose colored glasses in the case of past relationships, but nonetheless, the memories resurface) and wishing, in part, that things were still that way.  For those who have lost someone in the more permanent, the more tragic, sense of the word, well they can hardly be expected to smile as brightly.  I am truly fortunate to not be able to fully understand that level of loss.  I’m not suggesting you can’t enjoy the holidays, but it’s hard to deny that there is something missing.   It's often noted that there is no lonelier time to be single than at the holidays (except perhaps when you're the token single person at a wedding.  That’s an amazing experience.  It doesn't make you want to hurl yourself from a tall building at all).  There's something about tis the season that really magnifies just how alone you are and while I'm fairly certain I didn't spend the holidays as a child questioning my self worth, in adulthood to have no one to kiss under the mistletoe is a remarkably depressing reminder of your status.  The older you get, the more you start to think you should be turning down invites to avoid being the lonely single girl at the table who offers to take the group picture since an odd number would ruin the holiday portrait of perfection.  To clarify, I'm not suggesting all your friends are thinking this when you show up at events (some of them are, but most are not), but you are and self conscious in a Santa hat isn't a good look for anyone.  

As I grew up I quickly learned it is way better to receive than to give.  And, that is not to say I’m greedy.  Sure, I like opening presents, but I certainly don’t need anyone spending money on me so I can show it off.  But what I mean is; receiving is easy.  You just rip off the wrapping paper and viola, the hard part is over!  Giving means picking out perfect presents that you think someone else will like and that shit is stressful.  I cannot even fathom how my parents managed to find so many gifts for me growing up – although, it is definitely a lot easier to buy for children, so I suppose there’s that.  When you don’t have all day to just shop for gifts, as most of us don’t – despite my best efforts I am still not a lady who lunches – you have to somehow find the time to fit shopping into your busy schedule.  And, the time you can fit it in is generally the same time that everyone on the entire island of Manhattan can fit it in.  Surviving a trip to Bloomingdales on December 22nd is a feat worthy of a medal.  Then, after all the effort of going to the store, getting the coveted item, and wrapping it oh-so-pretty, it's so dejecting to sheepishly tuck a gift receipt under the bow, because chances are you screwed it up somehow.  Plus, oh yeah, there's the fact that all these gifts cost money.  While I am happy to spend money on those I love, I do a horrific job budgeting for the holidays each year and with each swipe of the credit card, I'm subtracting an item or an activity I had planned for the month.  Each year I promise to put money aside for December and each year I fail.   Even receiving is not as fun as it used to be.  As we grow up, we start getting more practical items.  A wallet, a gift card to a grocery store, a pair of sneakers, a coat.  All necessary items that we love and appreciate, but they are simply not as enjoyable as getting a game and then playing it with friends and family.  And, the reality is when my family asks what I want for Chanukah each year, I ask for my loans to be paid off, for a new job, for calorie free wine, or to lose 10 lbs.  All I want for Christmas is a time machine.  When what you're hoping for this holiday season is not really something someone can buy, it's hard to not be disappointed.   

And what about the lovely concept of tipping and other obligatory end-of-year gifts?  As if gift giving wasn’t enough of a drain on your bank account, as you grow up, you learn there is a whole host of other players that are part of this insane gift giving game.  At work, there's the mandatory gift for your assistant, which would be totally fine if anyone clued you in on what the right amount to give was, because you learned your first year in the real world that by "gift" people really mean money.  And then you have to tip all service providers you use in the month of December- hair stylist, nail salon, dry cleaners, cleaning lady.  Hell, even my cart coffee guy got $10 for a $1 coffee last week. So have you been doing the math?  Add the 2 and carry the 1 equals half your paycheck and we haven't even discussed rental buildings. The first year I lived in a doorman building I almost had a heart attack at Christmas. Not just because of the expense, but also because - again - no one really tells you what the right amount to give is.  I mean honestly, just give me a number and I'll hand it over happily.  Instead, I spend precious hours hoping I didn't give less than the apt down the hall and if I did then praying nothing in my apt requires repair for a while. You ultimately have to withdraw another $400-500 from your dwindling funds to tip your super, the doormen, the handymen, the porters, etc. I'll tell you what, the only time I somewhat appreciated my single status this holiday season was when I acknowledged that at least I don't have to drop another god knows how much money on 'that guy'.  Although then again, if I didn’t live alone I would have someone to split all these tips with, so never mind I take that concession back.  Oh and then just getting these tips to people is a somewhat awkward and stressful process.  I'm generally not a socially inept person, but all the obligatory holiday rituals really challenge that statement.

Of course, working during the holiday season is also downright depressing.  I don't mean showing up at the office in a red sweater and enjoying all the homemade goodies hanging around.  I mean really working.  Forget about the fact that I don't have 10 days off, some years I'm lucky to even be permitted to go home for the holiday. One day of it.  Having to show up at work and bust your ass while so many people have the days off, or are showing up to work just for appearance sake but know the end of the year means sitting on the internet, is absurdly painful.  There are few things that make you question your life choices as much as missing a friend's holiday party because you are stuck at the office reviewing documents you don't understand and crying.  Everyone's merriment while you're feeling somewhat defeated just magnifies the negative feelings.  Corporate America is the new Grinch who stole Christmas. 


And finally, as we become adults we start taking on the other holiday responsibilities.  Decorating, cleaning, cooking, baking, hosting parties (I mean I don't really do any of those things because I work too much and live in a studio.  Also, my cooking skills leave much to be desired, but enough about that.), simply put - the holidays are exhausting.  When you're working full-time, straining financially to afford gifts for loved ones and then going home to further get ready for the holidays, it's actually a wonder more people are not crazy and grumpy this time of year.  Well done America, you play your part well.  

So, while I'm definitely not advocating a bah humbug approach to the holiday season, I am saying that at times I can sympathize with those individuals who fight the urge to punch carolers in the face.  And, mostly I'm reminiscing about the good old days, before the holidays carried such heavy responsibilities, before holiday parties became another awkward single status event (except times, like, 10), back when your biggest stress was whether you would get all the toys and games you asked for, hell let's call it what it is - back when you believed in Santa...rather than dressing up like Santa to gallivant around the city escaping reality and drinking all day.