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I'll admit it, I'm a sucker for pop christmas music. I was buried so deep in my finals this year that I didn't get nearly enough of it. Another confession is in order, and that is that my favorite pop christmas song is mariah carey's "All I Want for Christmas is You." Yes yes, I know she's a talentless hack who's been riding on her body so long that it's flat and aerodynamic. My second favorite is also sung by her, but my favorite version is sung by someone else, I'm not sure who. It's "Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)"
They're singin' "Deck the Halls"
But its not like Christmas at all
I remember when you were here
And all the fun we had last year
What does all of this say? It could say I'm an undecerning sap, a total sucker for sentiment with no ear for "good music." I think that's only partly true. I appreciate schmaltz and sincerity, even in the form of highly commercial pop music. I know it's packaged, but I like the soaring vocals and the pleading instrumental sections. I like the declaration that love is more important than things, even when it comes from people wealthy enough to buy my life ten times over.
This was another year where I was so busy up until the day before Christmas eve that it didn't even feel like Christmas. Next year I want to savor the season -- the commercialization does bug me, but even if it's hypocritical I still love the lights and the music and the joy of looking for things that my loved ones want and need, a token showing that I think of them and care. I love love, and even if it's been capitalized on, Christmas really does bring that out for me. I suppose in some ways I'm a pawn, but Michigan Avenue in December is Christmas for me. One of my favorite memories is going shopping with my stepdad for my mom, I couldn't have been even ten, and after walking around in the cold we stopped in a McDonald's -- perhaps the one on State near Marshall Field's, and he bought me an apple pie. I remember how good it felt to bite into it, still half-frozen from the walking, and the feeling of camraderie that we always feel when shopping for my mother. I miss that, I miss the casual incidental time with him. I don't have a lot of really great memories from being a kid, I've never done well with not being in charge and not knowing all the information, so being a child was sort of hard for me. But the best memories are the little things with him and my mom, that feeling of absolute love that comes across in the everyday casual things. The sense of well-being when everything goes well. We still have it when I come home, when we can all agree on a place to eat, or something to watch. Mom and I sit and knit and eventually my stepdad falls asleep and it's just still.
They're singin' "Deck the Halls"
But its not like Christmas at all
I remember when you were here
And all the fun we had last year
What does all of this say? It could say I'm an undecerning sap, a total sucker for sentiment with no ear for "good music." I think that's only partly true. I appreciate schmaltz and sincerity, even in the form of highly commercial pop music. I know it's packaged, but I like the soaring vocals and the pleading instrumental sections. I like the declaration that love is more important than things, even when it comes from people wealthy enough to buy my life ten times over.
This was another year where I was so busy up until the day before Christmas eve that it didn't even feel like Christmas. Next year I want to savor the season -- the commercialization does bug me, but even if it's hypocritical I still love the lights and the music and the joy of looking for things that my loved ones want and need, a token showing that I think of them and care. I love love, and even if it's been capitalized on, Christmas really does bring that out for me. I suppose in some ways I'm a pawn, but Michigan Avenue in December is Christmas for me. One of my favorite memories is going shopping with my stepdad for my mom, I couldn't have been even ten, and after walking around in the cold we stopped in a McDonald's -- perhaps the one on State near Marshall Field's, and he bought me an apple pie. I remember how good it felt to bite into it, still half-frozen from the walking, and the feeling of camraderie that we always feel when shopping for my mother. I miss that, I miss the casual incidental time with him. I don't have a lot of really great memories from being a kid, I've never done well with not being in charge and not knowing all the information, so being a child was sort of hard for me. But the best memories are the little things with him and my mom, that feeling of absolute love that comes across in the everyday casual things. The sense of well-being when everything goes well. We still have it when I come home, when we can all agree on a place to eat, or something to watch. Mom and I sit and knit and eventually my stepdad falls asleep and it's just still.
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The body was just a bad metaphor.
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