You know how when you get older those things you cherished so ignorantly as a child begin to fade and blend into the fabrics of your life, leaving little for there to get up at 6 am and run downstairs for. It becomes a day where you recognize that, hey this day isn't so much of a religious holiday as much as it is a time to raise your glasses ( many a times) to the Little lord baby Jesus being projectile vomited from his mothers virgin vag. AWESOME.
And then when Christmas morning does roll around, you wake up as your adult you, thinking ' cool I'm getting shit'. Now this years was particularly interesting being that, when this little 22 year old ran downstairs looking for presents big and exciting, something that'll jump out at you not only because of appeal but it also has your name on it YES. So i found mine, a big heavy box with MATTHEW splattered all over the card.
I was stoked. I was thinking that telling my parents (santa) a litany of items that were on my wishlist would have resulted in me getting at least one!
This was not the case, as my 22 year old self dissolved into the eccstatic, hyper, elated 11 year old i once was and i burried my hands deep into the folds and creases of my present and with one mighty tear i revealed the naturee of the beast.
I looked down and my 11 year old self died and oozed tediously and painfully from every orifice of my body. It was no watch, no telescope lens, no second city tickets, no nothing. It was.. a steamer.
At the point my 11 year old self died, my teen angst 16 year old self jumped into my face painting myself with a true facade of bitter dissapointment. However that quickly dissapated into 'Oh Greats..' and 'Thanks moms'.
But i wasn't fooling anyone.
This is the thing about Christmas and what i realized that day. Its a day where we gather to celebrate a supposedly divine superpower by buying what we can giving it to people we are related to or like and forgetting about the whole Jesus thing involved with it.
And then when Christmas morning does roll around, you wake up as your adult you, thinking ' cool I'm getting shit'. Now this years was particularly interesting being that, when this little 22 year old ran downstairs looking for presents big and exciting, something that'll jump out at you not only because of appeal but it also has your name on it YES. So i found mine, a big heavy box with MATTHEW splattered all over the card.
I was stoked. I was thinking that telling my parents (santa) a litany of items that were on my wishlist would have resulted in me getting at least one!
This was not the case, as my 22 year old self dissolved into the eccstatic, hyper, elated 11 year old i once was and i burried my hands deep into the folds and creases of my present and with one mighty tear i revealed the naturee of the beast.
I looked down and my 11 year old self died and oozed tediously and painfully from every orifice of my body. It was no watch, no telescope lens, no second city tickets, no nothing. It was.. a steamer.
At the point my 11 year old self died, my teen angst 16 year old self jumped into my face painting myself with a true facade of bitter dissapointment. However that quickly dissapated into 'Oh Greats..' and 'Thanks moms'.
But i wasn't fooling anyone.
This is the thing about Christmas and what i realized that day. Its a day where we gather to celebrate a supposedly divine superpower by buying what we can giving it to people we are related to or like and forgetting about the whole Jesus thing involved with it.
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