Tell me we’re not going to do the very cliché holiday-themed post. Oh, we are? How very creative of you. Surely, no one has had the innovative mind to have their blog post reflect the holiday of the moment. Bravo.
Well, we might as well get it over with. Thanksgiving. Or as your generation knows it: Pre-Christmas. I expect you think I have something to say on that, but really that is too easy. And since I’m sure your going to have another themed post for the next holiday, I will save my thoughts for that one.
So, what are your thoughts on Thanksgiving?
Socially-accepted gluttony followed my mindless fanaticism to pointless athletic competitions, with a sprinkling of family angst and general seasonal disappointment. What’s not to love?
Hmm? Do I paint an inaccurate picture? Everyone knows it. The tragic, tragic beauty is that you set up every year as if it’s going to be different. As if this holiday, this time, this Thanksgiving, it will be… better. The food will be wonderful. Your team will win. And your family will be civil. But come now, however the food tastes, you will eat far too much far too quickly for it to matter. And your family will never be civil, because nothing has changed in the eleven months separating the last time you were together; everyone has simply had a year to reload. All of it makes for a wonderful ballet of disappointment.
The big game, for instance. I could talk an hour about how absolutely pointless the whole endeavor is. And don’t believe that tripe about camaraderie and sportsmanship. The simple fact it’s televised defeats that. Between the cheerleaders, the ravenous fans and the commercials for cars, beer and pills, what is sportsmanlike about any of it? And don’t you see that it’s quite impossible for everyone to walk away happy. For your team to win, (and yes, your use of the possessive is so inane as to be hilarious), the other must lose. Therefore, while all may be well and happy in your home, somewhere else, possibly many somewheres, it is not. And you encourage this. You want it. Schadenfreude. You want misery at the misfortune of others.
Disappointment. That’s the name of the game. And it’s a tough game. Depression is one thing. A general, continuous sadness can do a lot of harm. But disappointment, real, bitter disappointment is so much more powerful, and infinitely more entertaining. You see sadness keeps you down in the dumps. But to be disappointed, you first have to be encouraged. You must have the courage to lift your head, to bring yourself up just enough, to dare to hope. It is the rise. And then comes the fall. You’ve cleared the clouds and fog just enough to glimpse the Sun, and then CRASH! It all comes apart. You rise only to be smashed down again. And it is the fall, the crash that is so powerful. It is quite true, you can only fall so far before you hit rock bottom, but if you are raised a little, then you can fall again. And again and again and again. It’s glorious. You might have learned, but no. You keep coming back. Insanity, performing the same actions, expecting different results. Over and over. You raise your hopes, only to see them dashed. You set yourselves up, every year, every day, only to be disappointed.
Oh, it is so fun, watching you ride that rollercoaster. If you’re good, maybe I’ll tell you why you’re always disappointed. Perhaps next time.
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