... and other X-mas traditions of the twenty-something generation.
Today is Christmas Day, a day when millions of Christians, pseudo-Christians and other believers of the Catholic faith come together to celebrate the birth of their Lord by maxing out their VISA cards on lavish and expensive gifts for loved ones, eating a ridiculous amount of food and dessert, drinking a bit too much champagne and wine and other spirits, all to sit back with the tele on, dozing as we wait for the annual X-mas turducken to baste in the oven.
As an avid celebrator of either Festivus or Yule, and with parents who celebrate Christmas, I always find this time of year ... Interesting. Before my science-laden common sense clouded my Catholic-school education, Christmas was a time of pageants, nativity scenes, extra long masses adorned with candles, and Christmas carols, oh the Christmas carols! But as I'm sure all of us have realized, X-mas is less and less about a religious holiday than it is a big spend-for-all with a one day break in between the 24th (the last possible day) and the 26th (when the REAL fun starts).
My brother Greg and I have drifted away from our previous beliefs, siting the grand commercialism of the holiday and our love of science... plus the whole PC-ness of the "Winter Holiday season". The most interesting debate I had eavesdropped on was the "campaign to save Christmas" heard on the Colbert Report and at the dinner table of Vegas' parents. Both parents refuse to edit their "Merry Christmas'" to those who do not celebrate the holiday, citing the fact that as native Canadians (see it as you may), they do not feel the need to address the feelings of "immigrants" who come to their country and then become offended by the locals holiday traditions.
They raise an interesting point as I certainly would NOT enter a Muslim country and throw a hissy fit around Ramadan, citing my right as a 'citizen' to not only celebrate what I believe in, but to PC another religions celebration to equalize it with my own. Nor would I enter a Jewish community and insult the 8 days of Hanukkah... so why does Christmas get picked on?
Maybe because the commercialization of Christmas is driven first and foremost by its followers. The very same people who preach from their soapboxes about the evils of abortion and the abstinence is the only way sex-'education' are still the ones purchasing expensive gifts for their families, throwing the lavish parties and eating more food in one night than some families eat in a month.
So I guess it is kind of hard for my brother and I, and other twenty-somethings would rather celebrate Festivus in lieu of other 'traditional' holidays that have fallen prey to their own leaders; but in the mean time the turkey is basting, the tree is adored with lights, and my new lulu sweater and warm up pants are just dying to be tried on!
Monday, December 25, 2006
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Diamonds
... are a girl's best friend
In this festivus season, among many things, I got to thinking about girlfriends. I read an article recently in a trashy tabloid magazine (shut up; it's my thing, let it go) about a growing trend with 20-something girls, at least, the 20 something girls in the celebrity world. Anyway, in this piece the author makes an observation that the relationship between girl friends are replacing the level of relationship once held by boyfriends. Celebrity 'couples' like Paris & Britney, Marisa & Rachel and Oprah & Gayle are constantly and consistently seen together... well, maybe just Oprah & Gayle, doing all sorts of everyday mundane activities that are always 10x better with the pleasure of someones company: shopping, coffee-ing, holding hands and of course, partying until the wee-hours of the morning.
Now in the real world where every day ordinary relationships aren't so scrutinized, this isn't really new. At least not to me. Girls nights out, 'dates' and everlasting friendships have always existed with bonds that are so strong that they sometimes defy logic. I know: I have had the honour and pleasure of having such relationships that defy logic, escape explanation and just exist, as if we were created for each other. I mean, after I read the article I got to thinking about these relationships that I have with my girlfriends, and how close and important they all are to me in their own special way. With Angelica, Mackenzie, Christie and countless others in my life, my heart and on my mind I can't help but wonder... are girlfriends the new boyfriends?
In this day and age, a Manolo-lite can and does have a number of loves in her life. I know I do. My area of study, my family, my friends... although sometimes those terms are interchangeable. Maybe girlfriends aren't the new boyfriends... they're your new family. She's there when your man is not (if you have one; and if you don't she's that much more important), and try as he might the men in your life will never understand you the way the girls in your life already do. They can read you like a magazine; seeing right through your filler and pretty pictures to get at what's REALLY bothering you. They call you on your bullshit without making you feel like a failure, and the girlfriends who do that like my girl Mackenzie are the girls you want and need in your life. They see the real you... and love you all the same.
Maybe Charlotte was right in making her girlmates her soulmates, because really, it is just as hard, if not harder, to find a true girl friend than a good boyfriend. Break-ups with girlfriends are harder on the heart, your soul, your other relationships at work and at play because ... well, that level of intimacy took years to establish, and so will the pain of its sudden and often nasty endings. Luckily I have had only 1 break-up with a girlfriend of mine, and I'm twice as lucky since I still had and have the girlfriends who picked up the pieces of me while we all floated on ok.
One of those girlfriends... let's call her "Chris", is a girl I've known for a while whose friendship I can't even begin to describe. She is a girl of few words but when she speaks I listen. She has the uncanny ability to simplify whatever it is I am going through without dismissing the smallest detail to find the truth underneath the confusion. I credit her for smacking enough sense into me countless numbers of times, and most recently for getting me out of my destructive and abusive relationship with Philippe. She also held me up when my relationship with Vegas... Well, when it made me not want anything at all. Chris is my conscience: I don't know what I'd do without her. Kind of like the rest of my girlfriends, I'd be lost without them.
Don't get me wrong here, there are plenty of backstabbing, manipulative girls out there who pass themselves off as your friends but quickly shed their civil-persona to unveil their true nature. So that makes finding good girlfriends even harder. So this festivus season, let your girlfriends know how much you care for them; and the ones who must leave your life, let them know even more. Finding a good girlfriend in high school, in college, or in life, is like finding a diamond in a stock-pile of cubic zirconias. They all may look the same, but you'd never ever for a second think of trading away the diamond.
Just like your girlfriends.
In this festivus season, among many things, I got to thinking about girlfriends. I read an article recently in a trashy tabloid magazine (shut up; it's my thing, let it go) about a growing trend with 20-something girls, at least, the 20 something girls in the celebrity world. Anyway, in this piece the author makes an observation that the relationship between girl friends are replacing the level of relationship once held by boyfriends. Celebrity 'couples' like Paris & Britney, Marisa & Rachel and Oprah & Gayle are constantly and consistently seen together... well, maybe just Oprah & Gayle, doing all sorts of everyday mundane activities that are always 10x better with the pleasure of someones company: shopping, coffee-ing, holding hands and of course, partying until the wee-hours of the morning.
Now in the real world where every day ordinary relationships aren't so scrutinized, this isn't really new. At least not to me. Girls nights out, 'dates' and everlasting friendships have always existed with bonds that are so strong that they sometimes defy logic. I know: I have had the honour and pleasure of having such relationships that defy logic, escape explanation and just exist, as if we were created for each other. I mean, after I read the article I got to thinking about these relationships that I have with my girlfriends, and how close and important they all are to me in their own special way. With Angelica, Mackenzie, Christie and countless others in my life, my heart and on my mind I can't help but wonder... are girlfriends the new boyfriends?
In this day and age, a Manolo-lite can and does have a number of loves in her life. I know I do. My area of study, my family, my friends... although sometimes those terms are interchangeable. Maybe girlfriends aren't the new boyfriends... they're your new family. She's there when your man is not (if you have one; and if you don't she's that much more important), and try as he might the men in your life will never understand you the way the girls in your life already do. They can read you like a magazine; seeing right through your filler and pretty pictures to get at what's REALLY bothering you. They call you on your bullshit without making you feel like a failure, and the girlfriends who do that like my girl Mackenzie are the girls you want and need in your life. They see the real you... and love you all the same.
Maybe Charlotte was right in making her girlmates her soulmates, because really, it is just as hard, if not harder, to find a true girl friend than a good boyfriend. Break-ups with girlfriends are harder on the heart, your soul, your other relationships at work and at play because ... well, that level of intimacy took years to establish, and so will the pain of its sudden and often nasty endings. Luckily I have had only 1 break-up with a girlfriend of mine, and I'm twice as lucky since I still had and have the girlfriends who picked up the pieces of me while we all floated on ok.
One of those girlfriends... let's call her "Chris", is a girl I've known for a while whose friendship I can't even begin to describe. She is a girl of few words but when she speaks I listen. She has the uncanny ability to simplify whatever it is I am going through without dismissing the smallest detail to find the truth underneath the confusion. I credit her for smacking enough sense into me countless numbers of times, and most recently for getting me out of my destructive and abusive relationship with Philippe. She also held me up when my relationship with Vegas... Well, when it made me not want anything at all. Chris is my conscience: I don't know what I'd do without her. Kind of like the rest of my girlfriends, I'd be lost without them.
Don't get me wrong here, there are plenty of backstabbing, manipulative girls out there who pass themselves off as your friends but quickly shed their civil-persona to unveil their true nature. So that makes finding good girlfriends even harder. So this festivus season, let your girlfriends know how much you care for them; and the ones who must leave your life, let them know even more. Finding a good girlfriend in high school, in college, or in life, is like finding a diamond in a stock-pile of cubic zirconias. They all may look the same, but you'd never ever for a second think of trading away the diamond.
Just like your girlfriends.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Liquid Courage/Fluidic Stupidity
The cause of, but not always the solution to…
Cranberry vodka’s are dangerous. Very dangerous. Don’t let the eye-pleasing red colour and smooth-but-sweet taste fool you; it is very dangerous. Unfortunately, cranberry vodka was my choice of drink for the previous posts holiday party with Paris… and apparently my drink was not the only thing that was smooth-but-sweet and red by the end of the evening. Or should I say the end of last week?
Homer Simpson said it best when he proclaimed “TO alcohol! The cause of… and solution to, all of life’s problems”. Except the whole solution to bit… haven’t quite figured that one out yet. At the current moment this is purely speculation on my part, but when Paris spoke to me today he mentioned that at the holiday party of horrors, I, who under normal (read: sober) conditions am calm and cool and collected, but most importantly guarded… let slip that he in fact broke my heart… and that he knew that it wasn’t a light hearted joke ( at the time I had tried to explain it away in my complete and utter shock and awe at myself for being so careless) as I followed it up with something witty and then promptly disappeared.
As you would expect, upon hearing what I had said in my inebriated and apparently courageous state I was mortified. Absolutely mortified. I mean, how could I have been so … open? So vulnerable? So emotionally slutty? Granted Paris has always had the innate ability to draw my secrets out of me with a look, a smile or simply just his presence but STILL… my GOD!
So what did I do? I couldn’t run away simply because we are in 2 different cities… which at this moment is working to my incredible advantage. My lame attempts to joke or explain it away over the phone were failing, partially because he knows me so well and partially… well, because I had nothing! No, I did what I always do in these types of awkward situations where I find myself unbelievably embarrassed; I said I had to go and stopped talking to him. And that was about a week ago. Luckily I was hospitalized for a brief period of time so I have the perfect excuse as to why I have been avoiding him… Well, and everyone else really.
But back to my point: I am partly mortified with my statement of ill-reprise of our are-we-are-we-not…-seriously conundrum of a year ago (never-you-mind what Blogger tells you; I had to re-post) because it is simply not true. Paris did not break my heart; he confused the hell out of me and made my heart ache… but not break. Only one man has broken my heart... no, wait, 2. 1 was my uncle who passed away not long ago… and the other is Vegas. I didn’t want to give Paris the impression that I categorized him on that level, where the emotional pain actually manifested itself into a physical and palpable form to the point of exhaustion. It hurt with Paris… but not that badly.
The other half of mortification comes from … well, my inability to speak the words I’ve written here about Paris to Paris without liquid courage, which we all know that in the best of times, it turns into fluidic stupidity. I don’t even know where, when or how I am going to explain myself out of this catastrophe… or even if I should. Maybe something’s are better left unsaid, or in this case, unexplained.
I just wish he wasn't so wonderful about it...
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