My Annual Christmas Rant

This is a cleaned-up, streamlined, and brought-up-to-date version of last year's rant.

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. Truth be told, I wish I had finished converting to Judaism in high school; if I had, I would have a fabulous, legitimate excuse to not participate in this absurd holiday. But in the end, Judaism only works if you share it with others, and I had no one to share it with. That combined with the whole "I don't actually believe in God" thing sort of slowed conversion to a halt.

It turns out, at least around here, that Christianity is the "default" religion. If you're not an advertised Jew or Muslim, you're treated as a Christian even if you insist that you're not. I don't want to exchange crap from Walmart or Best Buy or Target or Amazon.com, I don't want to go to church, I don't want to listen to Christmas music at work, or on the bus, or at the bus station, or in the mall, or while I get my hair cut, or at home, and I don't want to watch Christmas specials of my favorite television shows. And yet here I am, trying to think of what to buy for my relatives, trying to think of something my relatives can buy me, trying to block out the music, and watching movies every time another special comes on TV.

At this time last year, I was in college, and so I had a lot more contact with other humans than I do now. The only people I'm in regular touch with nowadays are the family members I live with, the gay man my mother married, my father, and my coworkers. This provides me a degree of relief from the constant bombardment I experienced last time, but I still haven't escaped completely. I'm often told that there is something wrong with me for not liking Christmas. Even though most everyone knows how completely and totally not religious I am, everyone still insists that I should enjoy this time of year for its shiny, fuzzy magicalness.

I have tried looking for this so-called magicalness, and I have yet to find any outside of a television special. It took me twice as long as usual to drive to work the other day because of all the shopping traffic. Were people patient and kind to their fellow drivers? Absolutely not. As horrible as Rhode Island drivers are year-round, they are at least three times as bad during the "holiday season," when everyone is trying to get their shopping done. There are many more car accidents during December because of shopping traffic, and road rage is everywhere. I have been regularly yelled at, sworn at, and flipped off by drivers (many of whom are on cell phones) who want to get around or in front of me, or who think I should have run that red light, so that they could run it behind me.

And gods forbid you need to run out to the store to grab something quick. I needed a new sweater for work last week, and I had to fight my way through the store. People were impatiently squeezing past each other and getting into verbal arguments over whose cart was where and who was in line first.

There is nothing but impatience, anger, frustration, and hate in the air. I see no love and generosity. I see no miracles and magic. But even if I simply have terrible luck, and people really are nicer to each other on Christmas, I still have an enormous problem with the holiday.

I'm a good person. To hell with modesty, I am a damned good person. I don't claim to be perfect, but I try my very hardest to be kind and generous and loving and selfless and Good year-round. Most people do not. Most people are selfish and impatient and miserable and rude for most of the year. Even if they do try to be nicer on Christmas, how is there something wrong with me, but not them?

For one day out of the year, most people try to be good to each other. For three hundred and sixty-four and one-quarter days out of the year, they are miserable bastards. This is normal.

I do the opposite. For three hundred and sixty-four and one-quarter days out of the year, I try to be good to people. For one day, I am a miserable bastard. For this one day, I am grumpy and rude and unpleasant. One day. Christmas. For this, everyone says there's something wrong with me.

I suppose there is. Though I'm happier overall than I used to be, I tend to be depressed and lonely. There is no one I relate to, no human being that I am close to. I give of myself all the time, and I never expect much in return, which is a good thing, because I never get it. On the days when I'm in trouble and I need help, nobody asks me what is wrong. I have tried to make friends, and in the end I generally find myself used and thrown away. I accept that I'm likely to be alone for a very long time, if not forever, and I'm okay with it. I like who I am, I have my cats, and I have fun doing the things I love to do as often as I can manage. But generally speaking, no one is there for me most of the time.

During the Christmas season, suddenly everyone wants to know what's wrong. Why am I not getting into the Christmas spirit? Why do I seem so down? Suddenly my lack of enthusiasm for the things most people enjoy becomes a big deal and everyone wants to cheer me up.

Is it a bad thing for people to want to cheer me up? Of course not. The bad thing is that they only do so during Christmas. They want me to cheer up and get into the spirit, and then as soon as the new year rolls around, they go straight back to not giving a damn.

Nobody should be alone on Christmas. 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 Christmas 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.

As a young child in the fictional town of South Park once said, "That's pretty fucked up right there." This is my problem with Christmas. There does not have to be something wrong with someone because they 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.

Now I'm not trying to make everyone else hate Christmas, or to push my own personal beliefs on others. I don't give a damn what other people believe, as long as it makes them happy, it doesn't hurt anyone, and they don't push it on me. 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 Christmas.

Favorite quote of the year, from the Sarah Silverman show:

Sarah: "Do you have any kids?"
God: "Nope."

Io Saturnalia. (Now THERE was a holiday worth celebrating.)