That's right, only four days to clear our conscience by running around like chickens with their heads cut off to finally finish Christmas shopping. How terrible to reduce a time of peace and kinship to sales and gift wrapping plastered with logos. It's sick really, but it is a social expectation that is upheld. Kids want gifts, Parents want to make their children happy. It's easy to criticize, but to be honest I'd be devastated if there were no presents underneath the tree Christmas Morning. It's the idea that material things represent affection that truly drives us to overflow the living room with gifts. Think about it. When a friendship is new, there is always that awkward moment when you exchange gifts. If one friend goes over the top, and the other tries to reciprocate with a modest gift, there are hard feelings.
So this year, Boyfriend Hipster and I decided to give the gift of time. We aren't going to try to buy each other using packages wrapped up with strings, but rather honor each other with a promise to spend time together. Because he's reading this, I won't reveal my plans. However, know that it may have to do with baking.
Happy Holidays,
Arctic Hipster
P.S. The following video will change your life. It's called the "Christmas Can Can" by Straight No Chaser. Enjoy.
Dear bloggsters, There has been conspirators afoot... and they live inside our disco Aztec. Firstly, I must explain that our family has a strange taste in transportation. There is "The Gold Digger", our 2003 gold Aztec with a curvaceous behind and an expensive taste in car parts it needs to function. We use this one most often for show, as it is easily recognizable as "The Van with the Big Butt". Our second vehicle is a run down Chevrolet from the dinosaur age (A.K.A. The eighties) that roars when it stars and especially when it dies. We've aptly named it "The Beast". Both our modes of transport are fairly emotional, but as if to ease the trip, my parents stock the little cubbies in the front with gum. There in lies the problem. When our family boards our vehicle in the morning, my younger brother takes one piece of gum, my father takes one, and on rare occasion I'll have some too. My mother is in the other car so she takes some from the gum package in there. Seems pretty innocent doesn't it? No sign of conflict... yet. By the time my baby hipster brother is dropped off at middle school, the gum has magically disappeared! A strange occurrence since the gum we have comes in packs of twelve and there were only three of us sitting in The Beast. I choose to ignore it however and go off to school because I have exams soon and have more important things to think about. The next morning when we get back into The Beast, the mystery of the missing chewing gum becomes top priority. Not that my relatives are gum addicts or anything like that, we just have a strong sense of fairness and equality. Therefore there is a battle when taking off with the only gum in the truck. I demand justice to be delivered with an iron fist in these circumstances. My brother however, employs his awkward preteen voice that my father identifies with and perhaps feels a bit of pity for because I'm usually denied the right to a fair trial. I usually insist upon the lack of empathy for his one and only daughter, who is simply trying to restore peace to The Beast. My father, being the wise crack that he is, likes to say "Makenzie, I am your father." in his best Darth Vader voice. Unlike the male parental, I don't see the humour in this issue. The young hipster takes this cue as though he's off the hook, and a certain empty gum package miraculously appears from inside of a size twelve skinny jean pocket. Brothers, are the equivalent of mosquitoes. They make lots of buzz and commotion, provoke you, irritate you and then fly away too quickly for you to catch them and squish them. My brother did all of these things as he skipped off to Justin-Beiber-a-go-go school. Therefore my mother and I have taken a liking to hiding gum, or sabotaging the mini conspirator by buying "Adult" gum. He doesn't like mint, but the rest of us do. Lately though, he's been finding our hiding spots and my mother keeps forgetting which gum she doesn't like, so we end up with mass amounts of Frutie To The Max This and Minty Extreme Explosion That. Anyways, it adds a bit of flavour to our northern mornings.
Anger is a hideous thing. It poisons your mind, making you believe in strange ideals, causing your faith to falter. It clouds your judgement to the point where you can not control your actions. It can turn you into a monster. Rage makes people unrecognizable, even to themselves. It tears apart relationships, shatters friendships and cuts family ties. Anger Kills. If you have ever lost anyone, no matter how distant, you know the devastated feeling in the pit of your stomach that follows a death. You know the sickening taste in your mouth signaling a reality check. But, do you know the hit-by-a-freight train sensation that is suicide? I never met them. I knew them only through word of mouth, but that didn't matter. The shock hit just as hard. Cause' people are like dominos, when one falls the rest are pushed. And boy, can you feel the weight of everyone tumbling after. Even after they are gone we, the living, are affected. To be honest I don't understand. Death is a concept I've had to get used to recently, yet the meaning still escapes me. How can a person truly be gone if we still feel the repercussions of their actions? How could they have "passed away"? A term used to ease the pain when really, it just makes death sound more twisted. As if we're acting as someone has merely gone on long holiday. But they are never coming back. Nor can anything this severe ever be reversed. Anger hurts. It killed them. Blinded them, maimed their sanity momentarily. Long enough to do the deed I guess. But anger didn't just hurt them. Anger hurt everyone. But I can't help feeling the horrible emotion that ended an existence, as much as I despise it. I wallow in a bath of frustration. What would send them into such a fury? How could we not have known? Why couldn't we stop it? Why was living not good enough? Why were we not good enough? That's what gets me. No matter how hard I tried, even if I had known, I couldn't save them. We're all just helpless spectators when it comes to other people's decisions. You can't change anyone's mind but your own. Oh, but you can try. And you can feel guilty about failing. You can be frustrated by the fact you can't stop someone's pain, end their suffering without them coming to an end as well. My mom said to be careful, because people are breakable and life is fragile. Nothing lasts forever, no matter how we wish it would. She's right, and I wish I could accept that. Too bad my stubborn heart refuses to make sense. Anger can be silent. Please, if you have been hurt, or are hurting yourself, know that it doesn't do any good. That there are people who care for you and love you. You are important to someone. You are important to me. Frustration passes in time. Don't let an argument ruin your life. Don't give up hope in tomorrows, or the days that follow. There are endless possibilities if you hold onto your dreams. You are strong, we can and will make it through this together. I promise. Most of all, never surrender to the demon anger can become.
