X-Mas, Birthdays and Presents

I was on the bus today, coming back from a dinner of overindulgence with a friend and she asked me what I wanted for X-Mas... she told me she was thinking about giving me a pair of earrings, which I would love but as she kept on pressing me for an answer to her question, I realised I couldn't answer. At some point in my past, I made a semi-conscious decision to not wish for any particular present for fear of being disappointed and that fear haunts me today.

I think I was... 18 or 19 years old when it happened. I was in the midst of my obsession with Star Trek: The Next Generation. I watched the show religiously, at 7pm on Saturdays and 11pm on Sundays, I bought the magazines, the comic books and the novels. That year, a novel called Imzadi came out in hardcover and detailed the beautiful love story between William Riker and Deanna Troi. Every week, I stopped by a bookstore where a friend of my sister worked. She knew how much I wanted the book but the $20+ price tag kept me at bay. As did the hope that my mother, father or sister would maybe get it for me for X-Mas.

X-Mas came around and my sister gave a book by Honoré de Balzac... which I have yet to read in the past 13 years. She didn't know what to get me so... she went to my mother who suggested de Balzac, not because she knew I'd love it... never that since she and I had many conversations about how I hated long-winded, pompous, full of themselves French authors, hoisted on pedestals by boring French teachers. My mother suggested de Balzac because she had once loved him and his writing and in hindsight, I realise it was an attempt by my mother to make me more into her own image. As noble as her intention was, it left me with a bitter taste in my mouth. Specially since I only managed to get my hands on Imzadi in paperback form at a used bookstore many years later.

That was the year when I stopped dropping hints about what I wanted. I stopped wishing for the right present because no matter what, no one in my family tried to get me a present I would truly enjoy. It's sad because when it comes to present buying, I don't just pick something up in a store. I think long and hard about the person who'll receive the present and do my very best to come with the right present for that person, the present that'll make them smile and their hearts quiver a bit. Few people today seem to try to do that for me. A extremely close friend of mine does it... has done it for the past two years and I think the joy I get from opening her presents, she shares in, just as I share the joy when she opens her presents, squeals in delight and joy and her eyes light up.

Last week, at an office X-Mas party, I gave a co-worked a CD/DVD combo of one of his favorite bands. He loved it. He told me all of his friends were jealous of it. That made my day. For me, just giving a present is empty. If I buy a friend something generic, I have to find a way of injecting that present with something they'll find a personal attachement to. It reminds me of a present I got at the same office party. I'd asked for some writing materials or cell phone accessories. As employees of a cell phone company, I was expecting the accessories. Instead, I got a beautiful notebook with a leather cover and wonderful writing pens. My joy was immense. As a writer, I take pride in my writing tools and rarely trust anyone to buy them but this co-worker whom I barely know hit the mark perfectly.

And that realisation made me a little sad. I always expect my family to know me better than anyone else. When it comes to buy presents for them, I think myself into a ridiculous frenzy, trying to find the right present. I already have ideas for all of them and I'm pretty sure I'll hit the mark perfectly, giving them presents they hadn't thought but will love to pieces. I'm pretty sure I'll get something boring, generic and that's why I don't even want to think about what I want for a present because I won't get it.

Why the negative attitude you'll ask. Experience speaks volumes.... X-Mas can't be avoided but my birthday... now that's something I can control and avoid. For the past four years, I've made sure I was gone from work on my birthday. I hate all the good wishes and the kisses from near strangers that you have to endure. I don't mind turning a year older. I made whatever age I'm at look damn good. But by the same token, doesn't mean I look forward to birthdays. Unfortunately, I'm mostly surrounded by people who are lax about those days. There's very little effort by the new generation to remember and celebrate birthdays.

There are cousins of mine who get a phone call from me once a year to wish them a happy birthday and to invite them out to dinner. They're never at home, always too busy for me so I leave a message that's never acknowledge and never returned. I'd blame their extremely busy work schedule if I didn't know they had time for friends and other family members. But I must remember that they love me. Yeah right!

There's a friend of mine who never remembers my birthday on the actual day. She'll remember it the day after, won't pick up a phone to acknowledge it but she'll send me a hateful Hallmark e-card the day after. A few clicks on a PC don't mean happy birthday to me, ya know. But Lord knows we're already booked for hew birthday. Reciprocity would have me faking a migraine and staying my ass home to send her an e-card but the good manners my mother drilled into me and the fact that I love this friend, faults and all, means I'll be going out with her on her birthday. I'm not that vengeful.

But sometimes, you want to be. So my birthday was... a week and a few dust bunnies ago... I scored two presents, none from my presents except for a restaurant lunch. You'll say come on now, at 32, who needs presents anymore? I do! They can be an expression of love and caring. A card without a present is like a hot dog without the sausage. Without the meat, it's just bread. It's weird how dumb founded I find myself with the whole lack of parental present thing. Since I could, I never went without giving them a present, a little something to say 'Happy Birthday'. And for those who'll say the lunch was my present, I say bull to that. A present is tactile, damn it! I want my present damn it all to hell!

I tried to make it up to myself by splurging on a game console and games. But the emptiness remains... and the existing hole got a little deeper that day. When I recount my birthday, I find myself acting like an exemplary daughter and yet incredibly empty. To save them a trip to my place, I met them at a subway station near their house, we went to lunch, then we spent three hours in an emergency room. My mother's eye was infected after a laser eye surgery for glaucoma she underwent the previous week. And then, after that dry-ass birthday, I got another drop off at the subway station to save my father from traffic.

When I got home that night, I held back the tears while I answered brithday wishes from family and friends. But my pain remains fresh. And if a friend hadn't snapped some good sense into me, I would have swallowed my frustration as pettiness and selfishness. Maybe they're planning a bigger present for X-Mas but past experience leads me to believe that I should be satisfied with what I got. which was a forgettable dinner at Bâton Rouge. The restaurant was in a mall and when I saw no present in the car, I thought maybe I would get to pick out something I liked at that mall but nope, afterward, it was a rush to the hospital. No cake either.

So let's call a spade a spade. Based on this past birthday, X-Mas will suck!

So I end this hoping my X-Mas presents will bring the people who receive them the joy I won't get for my presents, or lack thereof.

Note: I apologize for the depressing blog but I've never enjoyed X-Mas and this year, I think it'll be harder to put up a brave front.