just what you were waiting for
Nov. 30th, 2007 05:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sureiI cleverly managed to combine the long-overdue bout of misery with the subject of Christmas. Please don't poke the humor, it is very brittle.
In my family, everyone knows what they're getting for Christmas this year. But you know, as a child, I always pitied my friends when that was the case for them.
I mean, yeah, we play the game. Mom would say, "wow, I'd love to have this," or "that's really pretty" or something, and then Dad and I would sneak back and buy it for her. So she knew that she might be getting it, but there was also always the possibility that she wouldn't. And I would do the same thing, and so would Dad. And it was fun, and by the time Christmas actually came, I'd forgotten everything that I asked for, so it was all a pleasant surprise.
But this year...
Well, I didn't really have anything that I wanted. So I thought that meant that, since I didn't have anything in particular to ask for, my parents could just get a little creative. I mean, they still know me, right? They know what I like. Right? It could be silly, or lots of little things, or even coupons. I wouldn't mind. Mom and I have gone to some strange lengths sometimes to come up with things we could get for Dad. But apparently they have no idea.
So I'd been trying to come up with things. And I thought I'd finally found something. Two things, two groups in general, that would still let my parents come up with something to be a surprise. And one of them was Gilbert & Sullivan music. I have the Mikado, and Ruddigore, and Pirates of Penzance. So anything else is fair game, I said.
And then Dad calls me in and shows me two collections of everything somebody could think of, and asks me to pick one.
This has three things wrong with it.
1. These collections have only one disk for a lot of the operas. Now, I thought it was pretty obvious that a full-length opera does not fit onto one CD. So that means that they've cut some songs, without saying. Again, I thought it would be relatively obvious, since I've talked about this before. But maybe they weren't listening.
2. These collections also feature all three of the operas I already have. I don't need repeats like that, so it's like buying some things twice just to get the extras. And I didn't ask for a collection, anyway! I don't need everything ever written by these two guys, and I don't want it all either. I made suggestions like Patience, or Iolanthe, or the Sorcerer. That is not a collection, people. But maybe he wasn't listening then, either.
3. This completely removes the whole idea of giving gifts, in my POV. I say, I like you, so I'm going to buy you something and give it to you, not I like you, so you buy something yourself, and I'll pay for it. And maybe it won't be exactly what you wanted, but it'll be what I wanted to give. Which brings me to what hurts the most.
There's really been no pretense at sneaking and gift-giving this year. Mom and Dad went through a list of things that they wanted and bought them all online. And Dad's come up with this total of the money that I can spend to get what I want that matches what they've spent supposedly on each other. And he wants me to decide. In other words, all he's doing is giving me money. That's not a gift.
Do we really know each other so ill that we have to resort to buying things for ourselves and then pretending that they're from others and we didn't know? ——
Dad just came in here. He's frustrated, sad (which I think really means, disappointed (in me)), and he wanted to know how he could know what I'd want. But isn't that the point?
He told me, once, when I didn't know what to give someone, that it should be what I wanted to give.
When did it start being about what material thing they want, at the moment, to possess? When did Dad start being so worried that I'd be disappointed in what he got me that he has to ask me to make all the specific decisions? Since when was the point of giving gifts simply purchasing requests?
... I've just realized the error in the interpretation of St. Nicholas. "He knew what they wanted." No. Listen carefully to the story one more time.
One time, there was a girl (or three, it depends) who fell in love and wished to marry. But because her family was poor, they could not supply a dowry, and so it would not be possible. The girl was sad, but she did not beg or borrow. She didn't even want anyone else to know how miserable she was. But one man overheard her sobs, and found out the problem, and he gave her the money she needed to marry.
There is no wanting in that story. Especially not of petty things like books or clothes or jewelry. Yes, the point is generosity, it is giving. But what did he give? Not money, not really. That was just the vehicle. He gave her the means to happiness.
The question isn't, "what does she want?" It's "what will please her? What will make her happy?" That should have been obvious – so obvious, it's taken me this long to be able to put it in words.
So now I sit here thinking, trying to put together what Christmas means to me. There is an element of surprise. No. Not surprise, not that word. It's that it's unasked for. Unexpected, maybe. And that's the part that upsets me: if I have to ask, how is that different from any other day, even if it's more than we could afford normally? That's just saving up money, and I know how to do that. It's like, I don't know, not getting any fabric, or yarn, or paints for a year, so we can afford the new sewing machine. The splurging element of Christmas is a commercial addon, and I reject it.
So. Something given without being asked for. Gifts, of course, and I do mean that plural. Something to make the other happy. Something that implies love, affection, because that goes hand-in-hand with the making happy part. To give, also, implies that there is no expectation of take (and here's where I get my dislike of Dad telling me how much money I can expect him to spend on my present. Besides the whole consumerificness of costs and prices, of course) in return.
Alright then, what is it that's upsetting me?
• having to state specifically what I want removes all sense of it being special, for me.
~ "what I want" bothers me. It makes it about material gain.
~ this is me saying, "please buy this for me," which is a day-to-day thing, no more special than asking to replace my shoes or something.
~ you shouldn't have to ask for gifts. That's called begging.
• we're not even trying to play the game
~ naturally, you can't be expected to come up with a variety of gifts that would make someone happy all on your own
~ playing the game is when you make suggestions, but while you know that some of them will be followed, you stil haven't actually asked
~ playing the game, therefore, means that you can keep the illusion that the gifts are unexpected
~ therefore, within a family, not playing the game means knowing what you'll get, because you asked for it, so regardless of whose credit card was used, the money all comes from the same source, and you've essentially just bought youself something new
~ which means that it's not a gift.
• there's a monetary limit on how much I can ask for
~ first off, I shouldn't be asking
~ secondly, this harks back to buying things, not giving things.
~ also, it feels like they feel they have to spend that much on me, so it's all equal
~ which is like an exchange. "I get this much money spent on stuff I want if you get the same amount." Hello, again, not gifts.
• apparently, unless I say, "I want this," they have no idea what they could possibly get me
~ okay, I've already killed the 'get me' thing and the 'I want this' thing, so I won't bash it any more.
~ this makes it seem that they have no clue what might make me happy
~ it also makes it seem like they're not even trying to find/have/get a clue.
~ and, of course, there's no relation between who I am, what interests me, and what I like
So, in conclusion, I think I can pare it down to:
• Give, dammit. Asking me to pick something out does not count.
• It's not about what I want. It's about making me happy. No, those are not the same thing.
• Every time you associate my happiness with material gain, you make me unhappy.
• Every time you apparently don't know how to make me happy, you make me even more unhappy.
Well. Now I'm not miserable anymore. I don't want to be angry, though, either, so I'm going to stop here.
... I still feel helpless, though.
In my family, everyone knows what they're getting for Christmas this year. But you know, as a child, I always pitied my friends when that was the case for them.
I mean, yeah, we play the game. Mom would say, "wow, I'd love to have this," or "that's really pretty" or something, and then Dad and I would sneak back and buy it for her. So she knew that she might be getting it, but there was also always the possibility that she wouldn't. And I would do the same thing, and so would Dad. And it was fun, and by the time Christmas actually came, I'd forgotten everything that I asked for, so it was all a pleasant surprise.
But this year...
Well, I didn't really have anything that I wanted. So I thought that meant that, since I didn't have anything in particular to ask for, my parents could just get a little creative. I mean, they still know me, right? They know what I like. Right? It could be silly, or lots of little things, or even coupons. I wouldn't mind. Mom and I have gone to some strange lengths sometimes to come up with things we could get for Dad. But apparently they have no idea.
So I'd been trying to come up with things. And I thought I'd finally found something. Two things, two groups in general, that would still let my parents come up with something to be a surprise. And one of them was Gilbert & Sullivan music. I have the Mikado, and Ruddigore, and Pirates of Penzance. So anything else is fair game, I said.
And then Dad calls me in and shows me two collections of everything somebody could think of, and asks me to pick one.
This has three things wrong with it.
1. These collections have only one disk for a lot of the operas. Now, I thought it was pretty obvious that a full-length opera does not fit onto one CD. So that means that they've cut some songs, without saying. Again, I thought it would be relatively obvious, since I've talked about this before. But maybe they weren't listening.
2. These collections also feature all three of the operas I already have. I don't need repeats like that, so it's like buying some things twice just to get the extras. And I didn't ask for a collection, anyway! I don't need everything ever written by these two guys, and I don't want it all either. I made suggestions like Patience, or Iolanthe, or the Sorcerer. That is not a collection, people. But maybe he wasn't listening then, either.
3. This completely removes the whole idea of giving gifts, in my POV. I say, I like you, so I'm going to buy you something and give it to you, not I like you, so you buy something yourself, and I'll pay for it. And maybe it won't be exactly what you wanted, but it'll be what I wanted to give. Which brings me to what hurts the most.
There's really been no pretense at sneaking and gift-giving this year. Mom and Dad went through a list of things that they wanted and bought them all online. And Dad's come up with this total of the money that I can spend to get what I want that matches what they've spent supposedly on each other. And he wants me to decide. In other words, all he's doing is giving me money. That's not a gift.
Do we really know each other so ill that we have to resort to buying things for ourselves and then pretending that they're from others and we didn't know? ——
Dad just came in here. He's frustrated, sad (which I think really means, disappointed (in me)), and he wanted to know how he could know what I'd want. But isn't that the point?
He told me, once, when I didn't know what to give someone, that it should be what I wanted to give.
When did it start being about what material thing they want, at the moment, to possess? When did Dad start being so worried that I'd be disappointed in what he got me that he has to ask me to make all the specific decisions? Since when was the point of giving gifts simply purchasing requests?
... I've just realized the error in the interpretation of St. Nicholas. "He knew what they wanted." No. Listen carefully to the story one more time.
One time, there was a girl (or three, it depends) who fell in love and wished to marry. But because her family was poor, they could not supply a dowry, and so it would not be possible. The girl was sad, but she did not beg or borrow. She didn't even want anyone else to know how miserable she was. But one man overheard her sobs, and found out the problem, and he gave her the money she needed to marry.
There is no wanting in that story. Especially not of petty things like books or clothes or jewelry. Yes, the point is generosity, it is giving. But what did he give? Not money, not really. That was just the vehicle. He gave her the means to happiness.
The question isn't, "what does she want?" It's "what will please her? What will make her happy?" That should have been obvious – so obvious, it's taken me this long to be able to put it in words.
So now I sit here thinking, trying to put together what Christmas means to me. There is an element of surprise. No. Not surprise, not that word. It's that it's unasked for. Unexpected, maybe. And that's the part that upsets me: if I have to ask, how is that different from any other day, even if it's more than we could afford normally? That's just saving up money, and I know how to do that. It's like, I don't know, not getting any fabric, or yarn, or paints for a year, so we can afford the new sewing machine. The splurging element of Christmas is a commercial addon, and I reject it.
So. Something given without being asked for. Gifts, of course, and I do mean that plural. Something to make the other happy. Something that implies love, affection, because that goes hand-in-hand with the making happy part. To give, also, implies that there is no expectation of take (and here's where I get my dislike of Dad telling me how much money I can expect him to spend on my present. Besides the whole consumerificness of costs and prices, of course) in return.
Alright then, what is it that's upsetting me?
• having to state specifically what I want removes all sense of it being special, for me.
~ "what I want" bothers me. It makes it about material gain.
~ this is me saying, "please buy this for me," which is a day-to-day thing, no more special than asking to replace my shoes or something.
~ you shouldn't have to ask for gifts. That's called begging.
• we're not even trying to play the game
~ naturally, you can't be expected to come up with a variety of gifts that would make someone happy all on your own
~ playing the game is when you make suggestions, but while you know that some of them will be followed, you stil haven't actually asked
~ playing the game, therefore, means that you can keep the illusion that the gifts are unexpected
~ therefore, within a family, not playing the game means knowing what you'll get, because you asked for it, so regardless of whose credit card was used, the money all comes from the same source, and you've essentially just bought youself something new
~ which means that it's not a gift.
• there's a monetary limit on how much I can ask for
~ first off, I shouldn't be asking
~ secondly, this harks back to buying things, not giving things.
~ also, it feels like they feel they have to spend that much on me, so it's all equal
~ which is like an exchange. "I get this much money spent on stuff I want if you get the same amount." Hello, again, not gifts.
• apparently, unless I say, "I want this," they have no idea what they could possibly get me
~ okay, I've already killed the 'get me' thing and the 'I want this' thing, so I won't bash it any more.
~ this makes it seem that they have no clue what might make me happy
~ it also makes it seem like they're not even trying to find/have/get a clue.
~ and, of course, there's no relation between who I am, what interests me, and what I like
So, in conclusion, I think I can pare it down to:
• Give, dammit. Asking me to pick something out does not count.
• It's not about what I want. It's about making me happy. No, those are not the same thing.
• Every time you associate my happiness with material gain, you make me unhappy.
• Every time you apparently don't know how to make me happy, you make me even more unhappy.
Well. Now I'm not miserable anymore. I don't want to be angry, though, either, so I'm going to stop here.
... I still feel helpless, though.