Grinch

I am the Grinch. Every Christmas I end up feeling like a Grinch - I am not sure how to stop. I also feel ungrateful, petty, mean-spirited, and resentful. Gee, and I wonder why I find the holidays so stressful.

I am hard to buy gifts for. I don't mean that in the "no one could possibly buy me something because I have everything" way, but in the "I am impossibly picky" way. I know it - and I have 3 reasons why, art school, moving, small space.

I attended almost 20 years of schooling,most of it oriented towards visual arts, finally achieving a masters in fine arts, an MFA, or terminal degree in studio arts. This teaches you to be precise, to be definite about what you want, and do not want. To have reasons for your decisions, besides, "I like it." To make decisions, not based solely on visual order and unity, but to consider the whole, cohesion, usefulness, etc. There are many things I like, that I do not want.

Then there is the fact of moving. Though I have not moved for the past 7 years, the longest period in my life without moving, I have already moved more then most people ever will. Until I got married I had never lived for more then 3 years in any one address. In a conservative count, I moved no less then 12 times before leaving for college, and then once a year for the next 10 or so years. Why is this important? Moving makes you reevaluate everything you own. "Do I really need this nice black sweater? I have at least 3 others." When you move, you toss things out, and you lose things. Sometimes things you wish you hadn't. The handmade Christmas ornament collection given to me year by year from my Grandma Fritz I regret losing bitterly. Most of the time, you don't even remember what you tossed out. If it is something you really need, you will get another. I seem to be always purchasing brooms and mops. You never move them, but you will need them when you get to your new place. Most of all, moving makes you hate tchotchkes. Little things that are nice, but for which there is no use or purpose.

Christmas is full of these sorts of items, and seems to breed them like dust bunnies under the bed. As I try to live by the William Morris quote, “Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful” I generally find these things annoying. What do I do with them? In most cases, they do not fit into my aesthetic scheme, (which is highly developed, see art school, above) they have no purpose, and they take up space. Someone who cares for me, and was thinking about me gave it to me. If I throw it away, am I being ungrateful of the love they give me as well? I cannot keep all of them; do I only keep the ones I find least objectionable? Perhaps I only keep the one or two I might like, if I had a place to put it. Where do I store it until then? Could I send it back to the giver, explaining I would really like it back when I move into a larger space.

This brings us to the issue of space, or lack of it. Terry and I, soon with Hank, live in a 550sq. ft. apartment. 550! That is it! No garage, no attic, and a small basement shared with all other co-op members, which serves as the laundry area, and floods occasionally. Everything we have must fit in our apartment. Most homes in the United States considered small are around 2,000 ft. That is almost 4 times the size of our apartment. Most people have room for nice, useless little things given to them by people who love them. What is one more thing after all? There is plenty of space to store it. Well, I do not have this space, and I don’t even want more space. I like my space. I love my neighborhood. I do not want to move to Brooklyn, or Riverdale. I want to live here, with no clutter, junk, or tchotchkes.

This brings us back to Christmas. Now the holiday is over, and I am broke, having spent my last dime buying useless crap for those I love. Have I finished my Christmas shopping, wrapping, and shipping? Nope. I hope to have it done by March, if I am lucky. I have a pile of “stuff” things to deal with. Not my new Diana camera, which I am thrilled to have, or my book on the philosophy of Buffy the Vampire slayer, which came from my list on Amazon, and is fabulous by the way. Not these items, the other stuff, the things people give you when they want to get you something, but don’t know what, or when they got your name from the family Christmas name drawing, and only see you once every year or so.

This year’s pile includes chopsticks, a small tile, a flashlight, 3 loufa sponges, 3!, a nicely framed set of prints, a vase, and a necklace. Some years, it has literally included everything I received. Since getting married I can always count on Terry to give me things I really love, see Diana camera, noted above. Or things from my list. I always have a list, and I appreciate people who stick to the list. I am like Rachel on Friends that way. There is a list – stick to the list! I appreciate people who have lists of their own, and I am happy to stick to their list. They took the trouble to make a list, they know what they want, I can honor that. Especially if I have no idea what they might like.

So why does all this leave me feeling so sad. Ungrateful, stressed, mean-spirited.