(Written in December of 2006. I rarely eat fast food anymore, in case anyone was wondering.)
How long exactly does a person have to resist an addiction before the cravings go away?
I'm not talking about cigarettes or alcohol or any kind of drug. I'm talking about fast food.
I decided a few weeks ago to just stop eating it, cold turkey. It's a horrible industry. They treat their workers horribly, they treat their animals horribly, they destroy the environment, and the food will actually kill you. Everything logical about the situation points to just never eating it again.
But there's a problem. Growing up in my family, we never sat down at the table to enjoy a home-cooked meal for dinner. If you wanted dinner, it was either something frozen thrown in the microwave, or fast food. I was, quite literally, raised on the stuff. Several times a week for my entire life I've had McDonald's, Burger King, Wendy's, Taco Bell... Wendy's isn't as bad anymore as they voluntarily stopped using the evil killer oil, but it's still not good. It's just the least evil of them all.
I never realized it until I tried to stop eating it, but it's unbelievably addictive. I have been craving it nonstop. If I so much as see a commercial or hear someone say "french fries" my mouth starts watering, my stomach growling, and no matter what other options I have for food, nothing seems satisfying. I want my fast food and I'm going to be miserable until I get it.
And that's the thing really. If you're hooked on something illegal like heroin or coke or something, once you decide to quit, everyone is behind you. They have rehab clinics, support groups, rewards for staying clean for a long time. Not only do people NOT support you if you're trying to quit eating fast food, they punish you. Nobody says "You're quitting fast food? Good for you!!" No, they just roll their eyes at you, tell you you're a freak, and get pissed off at you when you refuse to go pick up some Burger King for them. The advertising is everywhere - TV, radio, billboards, magazines, newspapers, even on the sides of the fucking buses. Half of the fleet of state buses are actually sponsored by McDonald's and the entire vehicles are painted with their advertising. People talk about it all the time, and it’s everywhere. You don't have to go to a dangerous back alley to get your hamburger - oh no, you can't even escape it. You can hardly go a few miles without bumping into a whole cluster of fast food joints. It's everywhere, all the time. And it's not even like quitting smoking or drinking where you can keep track of how much money you save as motivation - it actually costs a great deal more to be healthy than to eat that crap. An entire meal at Burger King costs something like $3 - $5. If you want a decent meal, from a real restaurant, it'll cost you at least $10, often closer to $20 even at "cheap" places, and if you want something fancy it'll cost you a great deal more. If you're in a hurry, your options are fast food or no food. There's Subway, but they're few and far between near me, much slower, and if you don't go to a really busy one, the bread is always stale, the vegetables old, the meat slimy from sitting there all day. It's actually more disgusting (even though it's healthier) than regular fast food.
I don't know what to do. I've been fighting this and winning - just barely - for over a month now. Someone gave me $10 in gift certificates to Taco Bell for Xmas. I have coupons for free Frostees at Wendy's that expire tomorrow. I don't know if I can keep doing this. I'm always hungry, always drooling over the ads and the smell of the places as I drive by. I see everyone around me eating it all the time. Everyone's always telling me to give it up, give in, just eat it, one hamburger won't kill you. We don't have time to find something else, we can't afford anything else. Quit being a stupid hippie and just eat it like a normal person.
I'm considering stopping at Wendy's on my way home from work today. Like I said, they're the least evil. They don't use the cancer oil and their food is much less greasy. But it's enough to make me feel better, at least for a while. I know it will mean I'd have to start over from scratch, it will set me back the entire month I've been doing this. But is it worth it? I feel awful, I don't know if the cravings will EVER go away (mostly because I don't know of anyone else who was raised on it who ever tried to quit eating it), nobody is supporting me, and everything else is expensive.
Can I really go the rest of my life like this?
Sunday, October 7, 2007
My Thoughts on Xmas
(Written in December of 2006)
First off, this is not an argument against religion. As most people know, I am not a religious person at all. But that’s a different conversation. If anyone wants to know what my beliefs are, I’d be happy to share, but nobody seems particularly interested in listening to my beliefs, only pushing their own on me, so I won’t waste my time right now.
So. Xmas. And yes, I’m going to write Xmas because it’s shorter, easier to type, and that’s how I say it. “Exmas.” It’s supposed to be spelled out “Christmas” with the last name of that savior guy in the title. This is because it’s his birthday, right?
Wrong.
This is my first big problem with the holiday. Christians believe that it’s Jesus’ birthday and that’s why they’re celebrating. It is not.
Let’s assume for the sake of argument that everything in the Bible actually happened just the way it says. That’s what Christianity is based on, right? Let’s flip to the part when Jesus is born. There’s a whole lot in there about shepherds being in their fields. This takes place in the region generally known as Palestine, right?
Why don’t you go look up some information on Palestine’s climate. Don’t feel like it? That’s okay, I’ve already done it for you. In December in that part of the world, it is very, very cold. Far too cold, in fact, for any sane shepherd to be out in a field with some sheep. In fact, it’s too cold for the sheep to even survive very well out in the fields, and there aren’t even really any fields, just dead grass and dirt. So a shepherd would have to be pretty insane indeed to be out there. So insane that I certainly wouldn’t believe anything he said about angels.
Now let’s take a look at the historical significance of December 25. It is, as many people are aware but don’t care to discuss, the date of the ancient Roman pagan celebration Saturnalia. This was a huge festival (that eventually came to encompass the entire month of December because it was just so darn fun) in honor of the god Saturn. It was celebrated with lots of gay orgies, drunkenness, and violence, as was any good Roman holiday.
Consider this scenario: the Christians are sick of the Romans believing what they want and celebrating with a lot of fun, and they want to spread their own religion, but they simply cannot get these damned pagans to give up their good times and convert. Some guy gets a great idea: “Say, fellas, how about we put Christmas on the same day as Saturnalia? That way, we can claim that anyone who is celebrating the pagan festival is actually just celebrating the birth of their savior. We can make it look like everyone is a Christian without actually having to go to the trouble of converting them!” They decided this was a great idea, and proclaimed the entire nation to be Christian while still allowing them to celebrate their favorite holidays. (Interestingly enough, they also did this on Easter, which is actually a pagan fertility festival, which is why Jesus miraculously rose from the dead not on a set date, but on the first Sunday after the first full moon after the vernal equinox.)
Over time, of course, they outlawed all the traditional ways of celebrating, calling orgies and gay sex and drunkenness “sins” and forcing everyone to act like authentic prudish Christians.
This is all extensively documented, of course. I’ve done the research and I encourage everyone else to do it as well. Prove me wrong. Don’t take my word for it.
Interestingly enough, although not a single person I have ever met has ever come up with anything resembling a convincing argument against all that I have listed here, everyone continues to wish Jesus a happy birthday on the 25th and force me into the exchange of overpriced crap we don’t need (see my “On the word Scrooge” essay).
In fact, Jesus must have been born, according to the Bible, in late spring or summer. On December 25th you are celebrating a highly sinful pagan holiday, and Jesus is probably very disappointed in you for doing so.
But let’s say that the shepherds were really out in their fields in the middle of the freezing winter taking bets on whether the sheep would freeze or starve to death first when the angels arrived. God decided to place the birth of the savior on the same day as a pagan holiday considered disgusting by Christians just to make it easier to convert the filthy Romans.
Why oh why oh why does there have to be something wrong with somebody just because they don’t like the holiday?
“It’s a magical time of year! There’s miracles and everyone is kind and good and selfless and charitable and you get to spend time with your loved ones and give thoughtful gifts to each other and everyone invites starving homeless people to Xmas dinner! Even if you’re not a Christian, you should still love the season for it’s magicalness!!!”
Yeah. Fucking. Right.
First off, I’ve never heard of an “Xmas miracle” on any scale happening anywhere outside of a movie or television special. Yesterday I had to run to the grocery store to buy some bread, and I thought somebody was going to kill me. The parking lot was packed full of people rushing to get their Xmas dinner groceries, you could only inch around looking for a parking space, and everyone was angry, impatient, swearing at me, and threatening to ram me if I got in their way. Inside the grocery store was no different, except it was bodies instead of cars. Nobody was nice, nobody was kind, nobody was patient. I actually saw a couple of women arguing over the last package of something or other that they needed for dinner.
This year, as every year, I tried to get my family, who insists on the exchange of gifts no matter how much I beg to be left out, to donate to charity in my name instead of buying me something. This year, as every year, they rolled their eyes, got angry, informed me that there was no fucking way they’re going to do that and to give them a REAL idea. Nobody gives thoughtful gifts. In my family, nobody is close, and in fact, none of us even really *like* each other, with very few exceptions. Everyone has a list of crap they want, and everybody gets more crap they don’t need, even if they don’t want it. But of course, I’m the only one in my family who doesn’t think it’s necessary to have more crap, who has decided that I have everything that I need and much more and I’d rather give to someone less fortunate than I. If I even suggest that I give any of my presents to charity after the holiday, everyone scowls at me, calls me ungrateful, tells me that I’m a bad person or a bad whatever-relation-to-them-I-am. I am the only person in my family who even considers the idea that having more stuff does not make a person happy.
But let me give people the benefit of the doubt. Let me assume, for argument’s sake, that most people really are good people on Xmas. Most people miraculously turn into kind, generous, patient, thoughtful people for 24 hours, and I’ve just had the misfortune of being surrounded by the exceptions for my entire life.
I still have a huge problem with Xmas.
What’s my problem, you ask? It’s that nearly everyone I know is a miserable bastard year round. They claim to be better people on that one day out of the year. One day out of every 365.25 days, they decide that they’re good people. After all, it’s Xmas.
And the other 364.25 days? They’re a bunch of miserable fucking bastards. They are selfish, greedy, materialistic, impatient, nasty people who would never dream of buying someone a gift for no reason or giving a penny to charity. I’d say a good 85% of all people I’ve ever known fall into this category. Yet somehow, they seem to think that everyone being just a tiny bit nicer to each other on one single day out of the year makes it all okay.
On the other hand. I, as well as perhaps 15% of the people I know, am a good person year round. I’m not perfect by any means, but I do my best each and every day to be kind and thoughtful and generous and caring and charitable and loving. Even though most people do not give a fuck about me. Even though I’ve never had a true friend in my entire life. Even though my family doesn’t like me and every time I think I’ve made a friend, they desert me as soon as the semester is over. Even though very few people ever appreciate anything that I try to do for them or anyone else. Despite all of these things, I always strive to be a good person, not to give in to society and become a miserable bastard like everyone else.
364.25 days out of the year, I’m a good person. And one, just one day out of the year, I’m a miserable bastard.
But there’s not something wrong with the world, or with the holiday. Oh no. There’s something wrong with ME. There’s something wrong with me because I don’t love Xmas.
And as Xmas approaches, suddenly people pretend to care. “Gee, Meg, why do you look so depressed? It’s XMAS!! You should be happy!” They don’t actually DO anything about it of course. They try to get me to like Xmas, because there’s something horribly wrong with someone who doesn’t. But nobody offers to spend time with me. Nobody decides that I’m a good person that they’d like to be friends with and hang around with. Nobody really wants to know why I’m unhappy, only why I don’t like Xmas. And even then, they don’t really want to know why I don’t like it, they just want to make me like it. Some of them give me some chocolate or something. But as soon as the 25th is over, everyone just stops caring. Their single day of being decent is over. For 364.25 days out of the year, I’m incredibly lonely, and nobody gives a shit.
“Nobody should be alone on Xmas.” Every homeless person should get a free meal. Everyone without a family should have a friend to spend the day with. Every underprivileged child should get a toy to play with. Every lonely person who doesn’t like Xmas should be called Scrooge and smothered by carols and TV specials until they “come around.”
And as soon as the day is over, every homeless person should go right back to their cardboard box in the alley. Everyone without a family should go back to eating every meal alone. Every underprivileged child’s toy should be sold by their parents for drug money. And every lonely person who has been bombarded by cheap replacements for love and affection should go back to being lonely and shut the hell up about it, because nobody fucking cares.
Well Xmas is fucked up and I’m sick of it. There does NOT have to be something wrong with me because I don’t like it. There’s something wrong with everyone else for thinking that one day of insincere greetings should make up for an entire year of being an asshole.
Thing is, I'm not trying to make everyone else hate Xmas. I'm not trying to convert anyone, I'm not trying to ruin everyone's day. I don't even care what other people believe, as long as it makes them happy, it doesn't hurt anyone, and they don't push it on me. All I'm trying to do is explain why I'm so miserable during this one time of year, and to get people to stop trying to force their holiday down my throat. I'd be just fine all through December if only people weren't constantly trying to make me like Xmas. Here are my reasons, you are not going to change them, please leave me alone about it. And if you aren't going to be a real friend to me year round, then don't bother pretending to care on Xmas - it's just insulting, and a nasty reminder of how lonely I am.
And yes, that really is the short version. I have more to say, but I’m too busy wrapping shit for my family members and watching my phone not ring to bother.
“I know nobody likes me. Why does there have to be a holiday season to emphasize it?” – Charlie Brown
“Christmas is a pagan holiday… And Jesus probably hates you for celebrating it.” – Huey Freeman (The Boondocks)
Io Saturnalia, motherfuckers.
First off, this is not an argument against religion. As most people know, I am not a religious person at all. But that’s a different conversation. If anyone wants to know what my beliefs are, I’d be happy to share, but nobody seems particularly interested in listening to my beliefs, only pushing their own on me, so I won’t waste my time right now.
So. Xmas. And yes, I’m going to write Xmas because it’s shorter, easier to type, and that’s how I say it. “Exmas.” It’s supposed to be spelled out “Christmas” with the last name of that savior guy in the title. This is because it’s his birthday, right?
Wrong.
This is my first big problem with the holiday. Christians believe that it’s Jesus’ birthday and that’s why they’re celebrating. It is not.
Let’s assume for the sake of argument that everything in the Bible actually happened just the way it says. That’s what Christianity is based on, right? Let’s flip to the part when Jesus is born. There’s a whole lot in there about shepherds being in their fields. This takes place in the region generally known as Palestine, right?
Why don’t you go look up some information on Palestine’s climate. Don’t feel like it? That’s okay, I’ve already done it for you. In December in that part of the world, it is very, very cold. Far too cold, in fact, for any sane shepherd to be out in a field with some sheep. In fact, it’s too cold for the sheep to even survive very well out in the fields, and there aren’t even really any fields, just dead grass and dirt. So a shepherd would have to be pretty insane indeed to be out there. So insane that I certainly wouldn’t believe anything he said about angels.
Now let’s take a look at the historical significance of December 25. It is, as many people are aware but don’t care to discuss, the date of the ancient Roman pagan celebration Saturnalia. This was a huge festival (that eventually came to encompass the entire month of December because it was just so darn fun) in honor of the god Saturn. It was celebrated with lots of gay orgies, drunkenness, and violence, as was any good Roman holiday.
Consider this scenario: the Christians are sick of the Romans believing what they want and celebrating with a lot of fun, and they want to spread their own religion, but they simply cannot get these damned pagans to give up their good times and convert. Some guy gets a great idea: “Say, fellas, how about we put Christmas on the same day as Saturnalia? That way, we can claim that anyone who is celebrating the pagan festival is actually just celebrating the birth of their savior. We can make it look like everyone is a Christian without actually having to go to the trouble of converting them!” They decided this was a great idea, and proclaimed the entire nation to be Christian while still allowing them to celebrate their favorite holidays. (Interestingly enough, they also did this on Easter, which is actually a pagan fertility festival, which is why Jesus miraculously rose from the dead not on a set date, but on the first Sunday after the first full moon after the vernal equinox.)
Over time, of course, they outlawed all the traditional ways of celebrating, calling orgies and gay sex and drunkenness “sins” and forcing everyone to act like authentic prudish Christians.
This is all extensively documented, of course. I’ve done the research and I encourage everyone else to do it as well. Prove me wrong. Don’t take my word for it.
Interestingly enough, although not a single person I have ever met has ever come up with anything resembling a convincing argument against all that I have listed here, everyone continues to wish Jesus a happy birthday on the 25th and force me into the exchange of overpriced crap we don’t need (see my “On the word Scrooge” essay).
In fact, Jesus must have been born, according to the Bible, in late spring or summer. On December 25th you are celebrating a highly sinful pagan holiday, and Jesus is probably very disappointed in you for doing so.
But let’s say that the shepherds were really out in their fields in the middle of the freezing winter taking bets on whether the sheep would freeze or starve to death first when the angels arrived. God decided to place the birth of the savior on the same day as a pagan holiday considered disgusting by Christians just to make it easier to convert the filthy Romans.
Why oh why oh why does there have to be something wrong with somebody just because they don’t like the holiday?
“It’s a magical time of year! There’s miracles and everyone is kind and good and selfless and charitable and you get to spend time with your loved ones and give thoughtful gifts to each other and everyone invites starving homeless people to Xmas dinner! Even if you’re not a Christian, you should still love the season for it’s magicalness!!!”
Yeah. Fucking. Right.
First off, I’ve never heard of an “Xmas miracle” on any scale happening anywhere outside of a movie or television special. Yesterday I had to run to the grocery store to buy some bread, and I thought somebody was going to kill me. The parking lot was packed full of people rushing to get their Xmas dinner groceries, you could only inch around looking for a parking space, and everyone was angry, impatient, swearing at me, and threatening to ram me if I got in their way. Inside the grocery store was no different, except it was bodies instead of cars. Nobody was nice, nobody was kind, nobody was patient. I actually saw a couple of women arguing over the last package of something or other that they needed for dinner.
This year, as every year, I tried to get my family, who insists on the exchange of gifts no matter how much I beg to be left out, to donate to charity in my name instead of buying me something. This year, as every year, they rolled their eyes, got angry, informed me that there was no fucking way they’re going to do that and to give them a REAL idea. Nobody gives thoughtful gifts. In my family, nobody is close, and in fact, none of us even really *like* each other, with very few exceptions. Everyone has a list of crap they want, and everybody gets more crap they don’t need, even if they don’t want it. But of course, I’m the only one in my family who doesn’t think it’s necessary to have more crap, who has decided that I have everything that I need and much more and I’d rather give to someone less fortunate than I. If I even suggest that I give any of my presents to charity after the holiday, everyone scowls at me, calls me ungrateful, tells me that I’m a bad person or a bad whatever-relation-to-them-
But let me give people the benefit of the doubt. Let me assume, for argument’s sake, that most people really are good people on Xmas. Most people miraculously turn into kind, generous, patient, thoughtful people for 24 hours, and I’ve just had the misfortune of being surrounded by the exceptions for my entire life.
I still have a huge problem with Xmas.
What’s my problem, you ask? It’s that nearly everyone I know is a miserable bastard year round. They claim to be better people on that one day out of the year. One day out of every 365.25 days, they decide that they’re good people. After all, it’s Xmas.
And the other 364.25 days? They’re a bunch of miserable fucking bastards. They are selfish, greedy, materialistic, impatient, nasty people who would never dream of buying someone a gift for no reason or giving a penny to charity. I’d say a good 85% of all people I’ve ever known fall into this category. Yet somehow, they seem to think that everyone being just a tiny bit nicer to each other on one single day out of the year makes it all okay.
On the other hand. I, as well as perhaps 15% of the people I know, am a good person year round. I’m not perfect by any means, but I do my best each and every day to be kind and thoughtful and generous and caring and charitable and loving. Even though most people do not give a fuck about me. Even though I’ve never had a true friend in my entire life. Even though my family doesn’t like me and every time I think I’ve made a friend, they desert me as soon as the semester is over. Even though very few people ever appreciate anything that I try to do for them or anyone else. Despite all of these things, I always strive to be a good person, not to give in to society and become a miserable bastard like everyone else.
364.25 days out of the year, I’m a good person. And one, just one day out of the year, I’m a miserable bastard.
But there’s not something wrong with the world, or with the holiday. Oh no. There’s something wrong with ME. There’s something wrong with me because I don’t love Xmas.
And as Xmas approaches, suddenly people pretend to care. “Gee, Meg, why do you look so depressed? It’s XMAS!! You should be happy!” They don’t actually DO anything about it of course. They try to get me to like Xmas, because there’s something horribly wrong with someone who doesn’t. But nobody offers to spend time with me. Nobody decides that I’m a good person that they’d like to be friends with and hang around with. Nobody really wants to know why I’m unhappy, only why I don’t like Xmas. And even then, they don’t really want to know why I don’t like it, they just want to make me like it. Some of them give me some chocolate or something. But as soon as the 25th is over, everyone just stops caring. Their single day of being decent is over. For 364.25 days out of the year, I’m incredibly lonely, and nobody gives a shit.
“Nobody should be alone on Xmas.” Every homeless person should get a free meal. Everyone without a family should have a friend to spend the day with. Every underprivileged child should get a toy to play with. Every lonely person who doesn’t like Xmas should be called Scrooge and smothered by carols and TV specials until they “come around.”
And as soon as the day is over, every homeless person should go right back to their cardboard box in the alley. Everyone without a family should go back to eating every meal alone. Every underprivileged child’s toy should be sold by their parents for drug money. And every lonely person who has been bombarded by cheap replacements for love and affection should go back to being lonely and shut the hell up about it, because nobody fucking cares.
Well Xmas is fucked up and I’m sick of it. There does NOT have to be something wrong with me because I don’t like it. There’s something wrong with everyone else for thinking that one day of insincere greetings should make up for an entire year of being an asshole.
Thing is, I'm not trying to make everyone else hate Xmas. I'm not trying to convert anyone, I'm not trying to ruin everyone's day. I don't even care what other people believe, as long as it makes them happy, it doesn't hurt anyone, and they don't push it on me. All I'm trying to do is explain why I'm so miserable during this one time of year, and to get people to stop trying to force their holiday down my throat. I'd be just fine all through December if only people weren't constantly trying to make me like Xmas. Here are my reasons, you are not going to change them, please leave me alone about it. And if you aren't going to be a real friend to me year round, then don't bother pretending to care on Xmas - it's just insulting, and a nasty reminder of how lonely I am.
And yes, that really is the short version. I have more to say, but I’m too busy wrapping shit for my family members and watching my phone not ring to bother.
“I know nobody likes me. Why does there have to be a holiday season to emphasize it?” – Charlie Brown
“Christmas is a pagan holiday… And Jesus probably hates you for celebrating it.” – Huey Freeman (The Boondocks)
Io Saturnalia, motherfuckers.
On the Word "Scrooge"
(Written in December of 2006)
Lately everyone who finds out that I don't like Xmas has started calling me a “Scrooge.” This happens every year. I'm used to it, I know it's coming. But it still bothers me.
Ebeneezer Scrooge is a fictional character. He hates Xmas, yes. But that is not his primary character trait. He hates every day, and everyone.
His real character description is an unhappy old man who is obsessed with money and material goods. He is miserable because he puts his wealth first, and despises interpersonal relationships. This is all the result of a bad childhood, of course, and as such, not entirely his fault. But he is NOT miserable BECAUSE he hates Xmas. He is miserable because he only cares about things, not people.
In the end, he comes around. I've been told that “Even Scrooge came around and started liking Xmas!! Why can't you?” He didn't come around in that he started liking the holiday. He came around in that he became kind, loving, compassionate, and generous. As a result of this, he started being nice to people on Xmas. He also started being nice to people every other day of the year. Xmas is just a coincidental time frame, and not at all necessary to this story.
Why am I going into all this? Because I am not a “Scrooge.” I am not greedy and materialistic. In fact, that is one of the things I hate so much about Xmas. Every year my family drags me into the practice of exchanging gifts. Not thoughtful gifts, mind you; everyone has to make a list of what DVDs and CDs etc. they want, and everyone goes shopping with that list in hand because it's all about the STUFF.
Every year I tell them I don't want to exchange gifts this year. I don't mind driving up to my grandmother's house and eating dinner. I can stand the awful Xmas carols, and I can even stand being dragged to church. But I do not want to deal with the obsession with STUFF. I want no part of it.
Every year they get mad at me. They tell me I'm doing it and that's final. It's just not Xmas unless we all open up some expensive piece of crap that we don't need. They're buying me something and I'd better tell them what to buy or they'll get me something I really don't like.
I say fine. You want to buy something for me? Here, take this catalogue that I get in the mail every year. Pick an animal and buy it for a family elsewhere in the world who really needs it. Do it in my name, take the confirmation certificate and wrap it up in a big box. Nothing could make me happier than to open that up.
They roll their eyes at me. There is NO FUCKING WAY they are going to do that. Xmas is about the STUFF, not about generosity or kindness or helping the less fortunate. And I'd better come up with something “real” or I'm going to hate whatever they buy me.
They don't need to tell me that I have to buy something for them. They know that I'll guilt myself into facing the crowds with my list in hand.
Thing is, I enjoy giving things to people. I try to do it in subtle ways all year round. Want to go to lunch? Here, I'll pay for your sandwich too. Little sister, how about you come to the store with me? What's that, you really can't wait till you save up enough money to buy that pair of jeans? Tell you what, save your money for something else, I'll get em for you. We're meeting our grandparents at the restaurant for dinner, mom? Ah, that was a good meal... No, no, I'll get the bill. I insist.
These things make me feel good. Sometimes people even appreciate them, although most of the time they just take it for granted. But I keep doing it anyway, because I am a generous person and I like it that way.
I hate exchanging gifts during Xmas because I'm forced to. I don't want to give because I HAVE to, I want to do it just because. And I hate it when people buy stuff for me. I have enough money to buy whatever I need – I'd prefer that other people's money go to something more worthy. I like to work for what I have. And I don't like having a ton of stuff anyway – I don't need it, and I prefer to spend my money on the people I care about than the material things that will never fill the empty hole in my life.
So what does this all come down to? I don't like exchanging gifts, so I'm a Scrooge? That's absurd. If anyone is a Scrooge, it's all the people who think Xmas can't pass without everyone getting lots of STUFF they don't need. It's all the greedy, materialistic people in my family who refuse to donate to charity in place of buying a DVD. A DVD I don't even really want.
And heaven forbid I should give any of my gifts to charity after Xmas. Why, that would be just plain ungrateful.
Now how could anyone possibly call ME a Scrooge? That is just fucking insulting.
Lately everyone who finds out that I don't like Xmas has started calling me a “Scrooge.” This happens every year. I'm used to it, I know it's coming. But it still bothers me.
Ebeneezer Scrooge is a fictional character. He hates Xmas, yes. But that is not his primary character trait. He hates every day, and everyone.
His real character description is an unhappy old man who is obsessed with money and material goods. He is miserable because he puts his wealth first, and despises interpersonal relationships. This is all the result of a bad childhood, of course, and as such, not entirely his fault. But he is NOT miserable BECAUSE he hates Xmas. He is miserable because he only cares about things, not people.
In the end, he comes around. I've been told that “Even Scrooge came around and started liking Xmas!! Why can't you?” He didn't come around in that he started liking the holiday. He came around in that he became kind, loving, compassionate, and generous. As a result of this, he started being nice to people on Xmas. He also started being nice to people every other day of the year. Xmas is just a coincidental time frame, and not at all necessary to this story.
Why am I going into all this? Because I am not a “Scrooge.” I am not greedy and materialistic. In fact, that is one of the things I hate so much about Xmas. Every year my family drags me into the practice of exchanging gifts. Not thoughtful gifts, mind you; everyone has to make a list of what DVDs and CDs etc. they want, and everyone goes shopping with that list in hand because it's all about the STUFF.
Every year I tell them I don't want to exchange gifts this year. I don't mind driving up to my grandmother's house and eating dinner. I can stand the awful Xmas carols, and I can even stand being dragged to church. But I do not want to deal with the obsession with STUFF. I want no part of it.
Every year they get mad at me. They tell me I'm doing it and that's final. It's just not Xmas unless we all open up some expensive piece of crap that we don't need. They're buying me something and I'd better tell them what to buy or they'll get me something I really don't like.
I say fine. You want to buy something for me? Here, take this catalogue that I get in the mail every year. Pick an animal and buy it for a family elsewhere in the world who really needs it. Do it in my name, take the confirmation certificate and wrap it up in a big box. Nothing could make me happier than to open that up.
They roll their eyes at me. There is NO FUCKING WAY they are going to do that. Xmas is about the STUFF, not about generosity or kindness or helping the less fortunate. And I'd better come up with something “real” or I'm going to hate whatever they buy me.
They don't need to tell me that I have to buy something for them. They know that I'll guilt myself into facing the crowds with my list in hand.
Thing is, I enjoy giving things to people. I try to do it in subtle ways all year round. Want to go to lunch? Here, I'll pay for your sandwich too. Little sister, how about you come to the store with me? What's that, you really can't wait till you save up enough money to buy that pair of jeans? Tell you what, save your money for something else, I'll get em for you. We're meeting our grandparents at the restaurant for dinner, mom? Ah, that was a good meal... No, no, I'll get the bill. I insist.
These things make me feel good. Sometimes people even appreciate them, although most of the time they just take it for granted. But I keep doing it anyway, because I am a generous person and I like it that way.
I hate exchanging gifts during Xmas because I'm forced to. I don't want to give because I HAVE to, I want to do it just because. And I hate it when people buy stuff for me. I have enough money to buy whatever I need – I'd prefer that other people's money go to something more worthy. I like to work for what I have. And I don't like having a ton of stuff anyway – I don't need it, and I prefer to spend my money on the people I care about than the material things that will never fill the empty hole in my life.
So what does this all come down to? I don't like exchanging gifts, so I'm a Scrooge? That's absurd. If anyone is a Scrooge, it's all the people who think Xmas can't pass without everyone getting lots of STUFF they don't need. It's all the greedy, materialistic people in my family who refuse to donate to charity in place of buying a DVD. A DVD I don't even really want.
And heaven forbid I should give any of my gifts to charity after Xmas. Why, that would be just plain ungrateful.
Now how could anyone possibly call ME a Scrooge? That is just fucking insulting.
In Defense of Splitting Infinitives
(Written in November of 2006)
The English language has evolved over time, just as all spoken languages have. At some point in history, the infinitive form of verbs split into two words. It is the only language I know of which has this trait: the infinitive "to go" in English is "gehen" in German, "aller" in French, "andare" in Italian, "ir" in Spanish, and the list goes on. Infinitive forms are a single word, except in English.
There are other differences as well. Many languages have case systems, where the part of speech is included in the word itself, giving the speaker the ability to shuffle words around as s/he pleases to vary emphasis and tone. English does not have this ability, and sentence meaning is nearly always dependent on word order.
But English does have that very special infinitive. The two parts of the verb are not attached like conjoined twins, but free to wander as they please!
Of course, as word order is important in English, they can't stray too far. But look at this: an adverb can be placed in between the two parts, modifying the verb and allowing a tiny bit of play with word order without changing the meaning of the sentence! "To go boldly" becomes, dramatically, "To Boldly Go!" Yes! We can still be poets after all!
But there are those who denounce this splitting of infinitives, calling it "improper" and "bad English." It is true that we have developed this possibility, but we shan't be allowed to use it! Keep the two parts together, allow no modification to come between them!
For shame! Such an idea is comparable to a monkey one day evolving an opposable thumb, but being strictly ordered to use it as though it were only a normal finger.
Well this monkey isn't one for following nonsensical rules! I myself will willfully split infinitives, in all their various forms and tenses. I have frequently done so in the past, and will gladly continue to do so in the future. I may certainly be an English professor's nightmare, but I prefer to righteously think of myself as a visionary, a revolutionary, a liberal speaker of English who refuses to ever be held back by conservative values. I shall blatantly and boldly go where no grammar Nazi has ever gone before! Just try and stop me.
The English language has evolved over time, just as all spoken languages have. At some point in history, the infinitive form of verbs split into two words. It is the only language I know of which has this trait: the infinitive "to go" in English is "gehen" in German, "aller" in French, "andare" in Italian, "ir" in Spanish, and the list goes on. Infinitive forms are a single word, except in English.
There are other differences as well. Many languages have case systems, where the part of speech is included in the word itself, giving the speaker the ability to shuffle words around as s/he pleases to vary emphasis and tone. English does not have this ability, and sentence meaning is nearly always dependent on word order.
But English does have that very special infinitive. The two parts of the verb are not attached like conjoined twins, but free to wander as they please!
Of course, as word order is important in English, they can't stray too far. But look at this: an adverb can be placed in between the two parts, modifying the verb and allowing a tiny bit of play with word order without changing the meaning of the sentence! "To go boldly" becomes, dramatically, "To Boldly Go!" Yes! We can still be poets after all!
But there are those who denounce this splitting of infinitives, calling it "improper" and "bad English." It is true that we have developed this possibility, but we shan't be allowed to use it! Keep the two parts together, allow no modification to come between them!
For shame! Such an idea is comparable to a monkey one day evolving an opposable thumb, but being strictly ordered to use it as though it were only a normal finger.
Well this monkey isn't one for following nonsensical rules! I myself will willfully split infinitives, in all their various forms and tenses. I have frequently done so in the past, and will gladly continue to do so in the future. I may certainly be an English professor's nightmare, but I prefer to righteously think of myself as a visionary, a revolutionary, a liberal speaker of English who refuses to ever be held back by conservative values. I shall blatantly and boldly go where no grammar Nazi has ever gone before! Just try and stop me.
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