19 December, 2005
I missed a spot shaving today. It almost follows the outline of my jawbone, just beneath my earlobe. It's an innocuous, incognito kind of place, in the shadow of the ear, and my facial hair is, in general, so lightly colored that it usually isn't visible without close inspection. I may not even have noticed the untrimmed patch if I hadn't been absentmindedly running my fingers near my chin as I talked with my good friend Gazoo about... stuff.
These little things - mis-be-shaving, forgetting to apply anti-perspirant on a rather drippy day - are annoying. What is more annoying at this time of year is what I can only call the holiday crush. It is the weight of expectations I place on myself to try to make those I know and love happy with some small token of appreciation for their friendship, love, etc...
If you’re one of those who likes to spout off endlessly about the crass commercialism of the season, or the oppressively religious overtones, or how you don’t believe in any of the “spirit,” well, please just shut up. I’ve heard it all, and I don’t think you’re cool ‘cause you don’t believe in Xmas, and I don’t think you’re a dolt if you think the baby Jesus in the manger thingy was extra cute this year. We’re talking about my problems here, people, so just shut up. Thanks.
I'm not into the materialistic spirit of the Jingle Hell season, and I have severely limited means. Nonetheless, I endlessly want to show that I am not a heartless, unthinking heathen. A very intelligent, dear friend here in the office is making (chocolate) truffles as her holiday gift. Why don’t I get great ideas like that? I’m pretty good at making pasta; no matter how much I’d appreciate receiving such victuals, wet noodles do not equal a good gift. So, I’ve hit upon my gift this year: I will be very gracious – as I always am – in accepting any gifts that should come my way. When you give to me this season, your joy will be the warm smile and look of profound love you see on my face in return.