For those of you that don't recall the past, I'm usually not a big fan of Christmas. In fact, I would go so far as to say that it is usually a holiday that I do not like. It's really all misery that I bring upon myself by being overly puristic with regards to principles of gifting. As far as I'm concerned, a gift is meant to express your understanding of the recipient and, as such, the giftee shouldn't tell the gifter what is desired. The end result, for me, is usually that I am disappointed to discover that I have received nothing that I wanted and am left with the feeling that nobody understands me. Of course, it probably doesn't help that I rarely have something that I actually want so people are left having to get me something that I want without my giving them any hints and without my really having any idea what sort of thing I might want to begin with. Yeah, great system I've got, make people find a gift that I want but don't know it. In case it wasn't obvious, I am generally not a fan of my birthday either.
This year, however, I decided to take a different approach to Christmas. Instead of hoping that people would get me appropriate gifts and having my hopes dashed, as on a rock, I approached this holiday without hopes. The direct effect of this year's approach is that I'm not bitter for lack of proper gifts, but there's the side-effect that I really don't know whether I'm pleased by this year's omnium-gatherum or not. For those of you out there that feel like pointing, calling Scrooge and saying that I've lost the Christmas spirit, I really don't care. I'm pretty sure that I lost the Christmas spirit many years ago and, if approaching the holiday dispassionately means that I'm not sad and bitter, I'm fine with giving up the hope of getting a good gift.
In closing, bah humbug.
%!PS /inch (72 mul) def /Times-Roman findfont 12 scalefont setfont 1 inch 1 inch moveto (I did derive some enjoyment from gift giving this year. Gift giving and excessive wrapping, that is.) show %% in case you missed the reference, this funny stuff is postscript %% id est the text in the second set of parentheses was a PS showpage