Skip to main content

The self-righteous whining.

December always arrives so quickly. You sit down in August and hold your breath for Halloween, but the next time you look up: suddenly, Christmas. It's always like that though. It's not something I really look forward to, either. It can hardly be called Christmas.

It's pathetic. And diluted. It's a weak imitation of what it used to be. Of what it's supposed to be. It's like Valentine's Day, hollow and commercialized. And the people that run with it are the worst part of the whole thing.

"Happy Holidays!" They say. I understand it's an effort to bend over backwards to accommodate the various religious celebrations of the season, but is it worth it? If someone is going to get upset--during the 'holiday season' no less--because you assumed they followed whichever arbitrary religion, then they probably aren't worth fraternizing with, I think. Is it really a good use of your time to stomp around in circles crying because someone said "Merry Christmas" to you when you instead celebrate Hanukkah? Suck it up and say "Happy Hanukkah" back.

The people that whine about oppressive holidays like Christmas insist that we must all be considerate of each other if we want to exist in harmony. We have to reach out and hold each others' hands and unite in our generosity and understanding. It's a noble idea, but they seem to think that these practices are exclusive to the 'holiday season.'

Why not practice those views all year?

They are the same people who cut others off in traffic. They are the same people who double park. Who talk loudly on their cellphones. Who bring crying babies into movie theaters. Who walk slowly down the halls. Who get upset when things don't go their way.

They are the people who are too important to recognize that others need more help than they do.

I am not a perfect person. I have faults to spare. I would not call myself a good person, but I try. I might be a hypocrite, but I help where I can regardless of what month of the year it is. Why can't more people stop asking for a return?

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

No, Holmes, no!

All I ever think about these days is how much I have to/want to study. I hope that's not how I have a good time, now. Would I rather go hang out with peeps or would I rather sit in and study? It is a difficult question to answer. Just a couple more days and then I can focus all my energy on the next greatest idea I've ever had: iconic detectives and sharks.

Side effects include constant irritability, being an ass.

It was a typical day in MUS 307 . A typical day where nobody pays attention to anything the professor talks about. A day where people play shitty flash games instead of take notes. A day where people sit and refresh their Facebook newsfeed instead of follow the slides. A day where people roll their eyes and go to sleep instead of listen to the music examples. A day where people get up and leave ten minutes before lecture ends instead of having the God damn decency to stay the whole time and pretend to be interested. I mean, if you're going to be so unaffected by the music we're studying in class then why the fuck did you take the class in the first place? Fuck it makes me mad. And I haven't even started talking about that fucker who sits in the back and tries to whistle along with every song that gets played in class. Alright, dude, we get it: you are just too cool and you know everything about jazz, ever. You know every standard ever written and everybody's so...

I wonder, sometimes.

I am standing on the edge of a cliff face. A breeze whips past me as I stare out into the darkness. It's a familiar sight, comforting. The river bends below me. It stretches out, away from me at both ends. The arch of the bridge traverses the river, silhouetted by the house lights and golf course below us. So far away from us. The highway reaches out before us, straight into the hills and disappears on the horizon. It is silent. There are no cars. No planes. No animals. It is just us standing on top of the cliff. As it should be. It's late. A late weeknight. Just a normal Tuesday night to the world. I step away from the edge. In 5 minutes, I will be 22 years old. It's a turning point in my life. A fixed checkpoint. I'm only 21 years old, I'm not an actual adult yet. Maybe legally. But I'm still a child. I'm immature, I laugh at fart jokes. I laugh at everything. Why would I take anything seriously? 21 years old and we still have no responsibilities. We c...