‘Tis is the time for the spirit of the season. I also refuse to say “Happy Holidays”, not because I think there’s a war on Christmas or anything similarly ridiculous, but because that’s what I’ve been taught ever since I was young, and I refuse to form my speech just so that it could be more inclusive. I don’t even celebrate Christmas, after all, so every sentiment of reform is pretty much lost at this point. Actually, I planned out a blog post to assault mass media and the deterioration of language already, but I just felt like doing something nice.
Either it’s because it’s mid day or because I would just like to watch an age-old tree be cut down, carried out of its home and into some buff’s condo, spilled over with glitter and other disgusting trinkets, and be left to rot for the rest of its days. I find this industrialized ritual interesting, and with all this fad of setting post-modern real tree on fire, everyone might as well be happy as a cult. I digress, however, as I clearly do not understand the intricacy of such ceremony.
So it’s Christmas, or very close to it. I don’t celebrate it, so the only thing it means to me is that everything becomes harder to buy during the holiday. I don’t have a tree. I don’t have any mistletoe. Furthermore, I’d be hard-pressed to spot a real fire place this time around. I’m sure there’s sentimental value for other people, but since I’m stuck here under the Midwestern boredom, I couldn’t be arsed. Still, I do understand that it’s the season of peace, or so it has morphed into. Unfortunately the snow is fussing up my window, so I really cannot see a thing outside. Every progress has been slowly for the past few weeks, and will mostly last until the end of the new year (yes, I understand what I just wrote) so I won’t be expecting anything exciting by then. That’s probably why I have time to go to my backlog and enjoy things I never gotten a chance to all this time. So, I guess it’s alright.
If you expect this to be yet another thousand-words blog post, I’d call you rather dumb for expecting anything of me whatsoever. Still merry Christmas to you, not yours though, who am I to say you’re not a slave owner. I certainly wouldn’t want to encourage that kind of behavior, although I did steal that joke.
photo taken from LocalLife