Underneath my yellow skin

Tag Archives: Christmas

More musing about Christmas (which I don’t really celebrate), part two

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I’ve given some more thought as to Christmas, which is now done with. The Discord I’m in is very Christmas-forward, and I was thinking about what feeling the dozens of ‘Merry Christmas’ comments engendered in me. As you might expect, the answer to that is ‘it’s complicated’. Here is my post from yesterday.

Twenty years ago, I would have been quietly fuming as I studiously ignored the comments. I might have stayed off the Discord for the week of Christmas because it would irk me so much. Even then, I would realize that it’s my issue and not the issue of the people in the Discord (well, to some extent. The relentless pushing of Christmas is a societal priblem, yes, but not one solevd by railing against any individual or even collective celebration. But then when? That’s a neverending question, sadly).

Ten years ago, I would have read them and ignored them, feeling a twinge of irritation, but otherwise just accepting it’s part of being in the West. Christmas is big. There is nothing I can do about it, so might as well accept it with a modicum of grace. This wasn’t for society, by the way, but for me. It’s not fun going through the entire month of December being incandescent with rage.

Now, while I still don’t celebrate, I’m more than happy to share in the joy of others who do. Be it pictures of family events/happy pets/good food, etc., or just talking about what they did, it makes me happy when my friends are happy.

Side note: When I realized that I was ENM, one thing that was an eye opener for me was that I was happy when someone I loved was happy, even if that was with another person. I mean, I knew when I was younger that I didn’t feel the same about monogamy as other people do, it didn’t really hit me until decades later that it was more than just I don’t care if someone I love looks elsewhere.

It actually makes me happy because I want the people I love to be happy. And I don’t think any one person can be everything to another person. I also did not see how a beloved’s relationship with someone else had any impact on their relationship with me.

I get it intellectually, but not emotionally. If someone I love is hapy, then why shouldn’t I be happy? The only time I care is if I feel my relationship with the person is suffering, and that has nothing to do with the other person my loved one is interested in.

How did I get there from musing about Christmas? I think I can make a tenuous connection in that I’ve reached the point where I don’t care if other people like Christmas or not. It makes me happy that it makes my loved ones happy to celebrate. I wish everyone a Merry Christmas if I know they celebrate it, then I go about my own business. I have whittled down the lest of people I buy presents for to one–K. We exchange gifts, and she gives the best ones. This year, she gave me a stuffed snowflake to represent my love of winter and snow. I gave her a retro print of three bright pink/red tulips.

In thanking me, she said that tulips were one of her favorite flowers. I did not know that, but I really vibed with the painting when I saw it as I was shopping for K. I know she loves flowers, and she’s a bright light in my world. Something about the tulip painting spoke to me. It was by a local (to her) artist, which made it even better.


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Musings at the end of the year

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It’s Christmas Day as I’m writing this. Night, really. It’s 5:45 p.m. I ‘m not doing much of anything, but I got two wonderful prezzies. A minifig of Vyke from Elden Ring from Ian and a worry (crystal) stone from Kathleen.

The latter fits perfectly in my hand and feels really good. It has a few cracks on it, which is just the way it should be. The former is a small, but important character in the game. He is integral to my favorite ending, and there is something you can do with his spear that helps in a very fiddly area.

My nibling sent me a sweet Christmas message from their trip to Taiwan, and it’s been a day filled with holiday cheer. Well, remotely, anyway. I don’t decorate and I’m not a holiday person, but the two forums I follow (one as an active member and the other more casually), are filled with holiday cheer. Especially the RKG Discord. Everyone is posting pictures of the food they are eating, and I’m drooling.

I think that I’m going to change things up for 2024. I have talked about moving to video because blogging is dead. This is for me, basically.

It’s the day after Christmas and I’m back. This is the time of year to think about the year that had passed and the year to come. I don’t do resolutions any longer, but I do like to set goals.

As I was saying, blogging is mostly dead. I accept that people don’t read any longer. To be honest, I don’t read much either. It’s the hazard of being online so much, I think. And giving into the impulse to jump from website to website. It’s too easy to be distracted if you don’t have good discipline–which I don’t more often than not.

For the next few days, I’m going to outline what I want to do in the new year. Again, not resolutions, but goals. The last two years have just been me adjusting to being alive. Again. Still? Still alive. There is the video for the post.

The first month after my medical crisis, my mother started pestering about what I was going to do with my life. I was still battling the drugs in my veins (which were SO NICE) and with the fact that I had died twice. i was not thinking about what I was going to do with my life. I had no idea why she was pushing me on it when she should have just been grateful I was still on this earth. When my brother and I took them to the airport, I was sitting as they walkejd around because I was exhausted. My brother told me later that they pushed him about what I was going to do with my life. Why the hell they asked him, I do not know.


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Feel jolly, but not holly

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More on Christmas. Here was yesterday’s post, and I’m going to continue my musing. I have hated Christmas and I have been studiedly indifferent to Christmas, but now, I’m feeling warmly about the holiday time. Not Christmas itself, but community. Atnd being alive.

As I said in the last post, it’s been a long road to get where I am now. This year, I’m feeling warm and cozy about, not Christmas, but about the holiday season and how much I love the people who are meaninngful to me. My two besties, my Taiji teacher, my brother, my nibling and their brothers, my cat–of course!!–and people on the periphery.

I love the forums to which I belong. Well, one forum. The RKG Discord. However, I am starting to feel a bit…

Here’s the thing. I get to the end of things and then I am done. With websites, if they don’t evolve, then I get bored. The same thing with the same comments by the same people…what’s the point in that? I used to follow politics back when Obama was president. And I would get tired of people being so limited in their points of view. I am sure they would say the same things about me, by the way. That’s the nature of people. They don’t hugely change on the daily. It would be a wild and woolly time if they did. But it’s frustrating when I constantly butt up against the limits of each person.

That’s what I’m starting to feel about the RKG Discord. I like the people very much. Most of them are really kind and caring. But. (You knew there was going to be a but, right?) The limits to the understanding of life outside their own experiences are very restrictive.  Here’s the thing. RKG are three cis het white Western dudes. They’re great guys, yes, but they’re still very much in the mainstream themselves.

To that point, their commenters are much like them. The vast majority are cis het white dudes–which is othering at times. Not on purpsoe, obviously, but just because that’s what they know. There is a channel for the grot, and it’s interesting when certain topics come up. Someone brought up polyamory and asked where all his poly people were at. The three of us who responded were all queer people (of varying alternate gender identities). The white straight dudes (which the guy asking was) were all quick to say NO WAY NUH UH HELL NO! Well, one was not, but that was a more complicated response. He wasn’t pro-poly, per se.


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Have a holly jolly–nope

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As I am writing this, it ‘s the eve before the eve before Christmas. In other words, it’s December 23rd. We had our last Taiji class of the year at noon, and my teacher was the only one who showed up in person. There were six of us Zooming in, which was strange. It’s usually five or six people in person and two or three of us on Zoom. I assume it’s because it’s the holidays, but I’m not sure.

During the break, people were talking about what they were doing for Christmas. One couple were making cookies all day today, and another woman talked about how she was going to be cooking after class as well.

Last week, another classmate had a party to go to after class. Online, everyone is steeped in Christmas. I have had a few people ask me what I’m doing, which did not bother me. I don’t celerbate Christmas, but I did not bristle at being asked, either.

I have in yeras past. I don’t celebrate and it can get annoying after awhile when everyone assumes you do. “What are you doing for Christmas?” becme the bane of  my existence.

Side note: My mother is very wedded to traditions. This is an issue with us because I am most empthatically not. We have had this argument all my life–whether tradition is good or bad. She once said in exasperation that just becasue something was traditional, it didn’t mean it was bad.

I immediately retorted that just because something was traditional, it didn’t mean it was good, either. She was not happy with that, but she couldn’t really argue. My point was that it should not be automatic either way. Yes, I side-eyed doing something just because it was said to be tradition,  but that was because a lot of nasty stuff has been done in the name of tradition.

For example. Many people complain about all the things they have to do for christmas. The cooking and the baking and the decorating, not to mention putting up the tree, sending out cards, and wrapping presents. It is a lot.

One of my classmates (who was not in class this week) was complaining last week about how overwhelmed she was with the holiday activities and all she had to do. This was not unusual. She was usually freaked out over all she had to do. She reminded me of my mother in that she made things way harder than they needed to be. Or rather, she held herself to a standard that then made her lose her mind when she actually had to do the work.


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O Holy Night

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To continue my musing on Christmas, here is the post from yesterday. No, that isn’t contiuning, but whatever. It’s my blog, and I’ll do whatever I want. For many years, perhaps even over a deacde, I have done a post about my one and only true Christmas carol, O Holy Night. I did a quick search and I did not do a post last year (but I did one in 2021). Apparently, last year around this time, I did two weeks’ worth of posts about Elden Ring instead as part of my GOTY posts. Or rather, in place of my GOTY post.

I am not sure I will have a GOTY post this year, either, because while I have played more new games this year than last, I’m not sure I want to call any of them my GOTY. I might just do a ‘state of my gaming’ post again instead. Or just gush about Elden Ring again. That’s always something I can do at the drop at a hat.

Anyway. More on games later. This is about Christmas and how much I love it! I do not love it, obviously, but I don’t hate it, either. In fact, to my surprise, I feel vaguely warm about it. Not about Christmas in general, but about love and community and being alive.

Here are some of my favorite versions of O Holy Night. In no particular order. first up is Andy Williams with a very classic version. I heard this a few years ago, and I really dug it–much to my surprise. I’m not usually one for old-timey musicians. for whatever reason, though, this version hit my sweet spot.

Next up is one I found just this year. It was filmed two years ago, and it’s by the Mav City Gospel Choir, featuring Melvin Crispell III. It’s soulful and earnest, without veering into saccharine. It’s really, really good.

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I’m dreaming of a white Christmas (because I love snow)

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So. My shtick for the last few decades has been that I hate Christmas carols–except one. I’ll get to that one later, but it’s not competely true–that I hate Christmas carols, I mean. What is more accurate is that I don’t like the schlocky versions that seem to saturate the airwaves in the months (months!) leading up to Christmas. It’s as if the powers that be chose the worst possible versions and said, “Yes, let’s play these repeatedly in the mall over and over and over again.”

Things got much better once I stopped watching TV (no commercials) and stopped listening to the radio (no ads). I haven’t been to a mall except to eat in over a decade as well, so that helps. The local stations that play Christmas music all December long? No longer on my presets in my car. That’s the only time I listen to the radio, by the way. When I cut out the listening by 95%, it made it so much more tolerable.

It also helped that I have continued my journey with Christianity. I touched on the hatred I had for Christianity in this post from two days ago. I was raised fundie Evangelical Christian with very sexist tenets. A girl who had sex outside of marriage was condemned to hell. And, yes, specifically the girl because she was a harlot, a tramp, and an evil temptress/seductress. It was ridiculous to the point where our youth pastor (not Taiwanese, which was interesting at a Taiwanese church)  said that it was better to not kiss before you got married because kissing led to sex. This was before I had dated anyone, but even a sheltered naive girl like me could tell that was utter bullshit. Or rather, that there were many steps between kissing and sex. It wasn’t as if you kissed someone and then suddenly their penis was inside you. Come on!

Once I realized that the church had been lying to me all those years (and being deeply sexist), I reacted with extreme anger. I could not bear the mention of Christianity or that god, which was hard because that was when my mother was at her most religious. I was so angry at God (with a capital G). Even though if He existed, it most certainly wasn’t His fault that His followers were being such assholes in His name. But that’s what happens when you’re abused–you get angry. Which is a healthy response!

Then, as the years went by, the anger slipped away. The further I got from the religion, the more I just…let it go. I will say that Taiji helped tremendously, but I put down that burden. I did not forgive* God (because I did not believe in him) or the religion (because it’s still trash to me–the version I was forced to ‘believe’ in), but I no longer felt the searing hatred or anger I had in the past.

For a decade or so, I just felt studiedly indifference to it. With a small amount of anger in the back of my mind. Again, it was Taiji that helped soothe the savage beast within. I was able to say, hey, it’s not for me, but whatever. I still hated Christmas during that time, but that was more because of the crass commercialism than the Christianity aspect.


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Studiedly neutral is a reaction

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Yesterday, I was writing about my distaste for Christmas. Well, hatred. Let’s be real. I used to loathe Christmas. It didn’t have much to do with the holiday itself, but with all the heavy expectations that went along with it. Plus the fact that the holiday spirit commercialization started earlier every year, and I was not pleased. I saw my first Christmas commercial before Halloween this year. That is a crime against humanity.

As I mentioned yesterday, once I stopped watching TV and listening to the radio, it was much better. Also, Taiji has helped me maintain my equilibrium when it comes to the holiday season. I no longcer rail against it, but I’m not going to be decorating a tree any time soon, either. Or sipping eggnog. Even if my brother were here for Christmas (he’s taking his family to Taiwan), I would not celebrate.

Here’s the thing. It’s not my holiday. I’m not a Christian, and I don’t like the trappings of the religion. Even if you want to go with a more secular Christmas, I have no warm feelings about the holiday itself.

I can get behind gathering as a family/group of friends/community. I know that for most people it’s important to have a sense of belonging. The problem is that when it’s practically society-mandated as is Christmas, that’s a recipe for disaster. Same with Thanksgiving.

I just recently learrned from my brother that his ex-wife held a grudge for several years because at the first Thanksgiving they hosted together, my mother brought her cranberry salad to the dinner. To elaborate, she said she was going to bring it, so it wasn’t as if she brought it out of the blue.

Here’s the problem. My mother’s cranberry salad is cranberries, whipped cream, orange slices, marshmallows,  raisins, nuts, and I think jello. It’s really tasty, but it’s very sweet. My ex-SIL’s idea of cranberry for Thanksgiving is cranberry and a sauce that has sugar waved over it. She made it for the Thanksgiving after my medical crisis, and it was very tart. Like mouth-puckering tart.

Two different people with two very different ideas of what cranberries for Christmas should be. Neither was wrong–they were just different. However, my ex-SIL held a grudge for several years because that’s what my mother meant by cranberry salad. Apparently, that totally ruined Thanksgiving for my ex-SIL. I asked why she didn’t just quickly make her own when she realized what my mother had brought. My brother said because they didn’t have cranberries in the house.

Which, yeah, I get it. It’s a bummer when you don’t get a dish you were looknig forward to, but it wasn’t as if my mother did it to deliberately antagonize her. Or that my mother’s cranberries were inedible. Or that it was some kind of sign of hatred.


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Bah humbug is a holiday spirit

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When I was in ninth or tenth grade, I wrote an opinion editorial (“op-ed” in the biz) about how Christmas had become so commercialized. This was over thirty-five years ago, and I was such a naive child back then. I thought I had seen the height of consumerism, but I had seen nothing yet.

I loved Christmas as a kid, of course, because I got presents. That was it. No other reason. Just the presents. My brother and I would snoop around to find them before Chrismas. We also found things I’d rather not know existed, but that’s the danger of snooping.

Christmas was oddly disappointing, though, even back then. Well, not oddly. It makes sense when you think about it. When you’re a little kid, a year is such a big chunk of your life. It takes forever to get from one Christmas to another.

Then, Christmas lasted a couple hours an was over for another year. Even if you got everything you wanted for Christmas, there was still the yawning emptiness afterwards because material goods did not fulfill you permanently. This was obvious–now. Not to a little kid who waited all year to get whatever the toy of the year was. To be honest, I didn’t even remember what I got for presents. I knew they were what I asked for or what my mother would think a girl would want (if it was the latter, then it wasn’t what I wanted). I didn’t really remember.

What I did remember was one year, there was nothing in my stocking. I told my  mother about it, and she told me to go back to bed. Fifteen minutes later, she called me to the stocking (and my brother, too, probably) and there were things in it. That was my first inkling that Santa wasn’t real.

Then, I started hating Christmas. There were two reasons for this. One, my fractious relationship with Christianity. I left it when I was twenty and had sex for the first time. I didn’t really believe before that, but I tried so hard. But my mother’s particular brand of hardcore fundie evangelical Christianity never sat well with me–especially the terrible sexism of it all.

When I realized they were lying about sex (that premarital sex was the worst thing you could do and would cast your soul into eternal hell), there was no going back. When someone llies to you that consistantly, persistantly, and without remorse, all the trust was gone.


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The holiday blahs

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It’s the most bogus time of the year. I know that’s not how the song goes, but bite me. I’m in a bad mood today because Regions Hospital just called and told me that the echocardiogram and heart doc visit I have been trying to plan for the last two months and had finally managed to get scheduled for this Friday (echo) and next Thursday (doc visit) were not covered by my insurance so they would have to cancel the appointments.

Which is as annoying as fuck. They called me in October to schedule the visits, then when I showed up the next week for the first appointment, they had no record of it. I was confused because they had called me, not the other way around. But there were problems with the scheduling program, so my brother and I figured they had either sheduled the wrong person in my place or the prgram didn’t ‘take’ the appointment. The administrative assistant noted that my anniversary of the first echo was in early December, so she scheduled me for Friday (this is Wednesday) and the following Thursday.

You would think that they would have something in the program to notify them that the insurance was no longer accepted, even if it wasalready in the program. The problem is two-fold. I am in the Obama plan and the Blue Cross portion of it was taken away at the beginning of this year. In tandem, Regions stopped takiing Universal Health Care at the beginning of this year.

Which blows, honestly. THat means someone without decent healthcare insurance would not get treatment at one of the best regional hospitals. Which is appalling. Putting that aside, however, I can’t get past the fact that they did not realize that my insurance would not cover the appointments until two days before. I’m not mad at the person who called me, but that seems like a wide crack in their system. I’m also deflated because it had been such a pain to get the appointments (for the appointment with the doc, it was literally the last open spot he had for the year), and now I have to go through it all again with someone who doesn’t kno;w me or what I went through. I’ll do it after the holidays.

Speaking of the holidays, I’m already tired of them. I’m tired in general, by the way. You know that draggy feeling you get when you’re about to get sick? That’s what I’ve been feeling for several weeks (since Shadow was sick). At first, I chalked it down to stress, but now, I’m wondering if I’m actually sick. I’m pretty sure it’s not COVID, but there’s a small doubt niggling in the back of my mind.


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Holly jolly and all that

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‘Twas the night before Christmas
When all through the house
Not a creature was stirring
Except for my computer mouse.

For a hot second, I was tempted to rewrite the entire poem, but then I came to my senses. It’s the end of a really rough year in so many ways. We’re still in the middle of a pandemic, though I think we can rightfully call it endemic now (my brain doc agreed with me). I was in the hospital for two weeks with life-threatening issues and I was so fucking lucky to escape mostly unscathed.

I’ve been doing a lot of research into Sudden Cardiac Arrests (SCAs) in the past week or two. My heart doc told me the last time I talked to him that his patients and their families become experts in SCAs in ways that even the medical experts aren’t. He’s right. And since it’s in my nature to research stuff, that’s what I’ve been doing. I signed up for the SCAF (Foundation) website and I’ll keep searching for a support group.

My problem is that I’m in a very small group. Only 10% of people who suffer an out-of-the-hospital SCAs actually survive. The number doubles for in-the-hospital SCAs. Even though mine were technically the former, it functions more like the latter since the EMTs got to me within minutes. At least the cops did.

Of that 10% who survive, most of them are expected to have some brain damage/other damage. I was without oxygen for some amount of time, though we are not sure exactly  how long. At first, they thought it was thirty minutes, but it turned out to be more like ten minutes. Still not great, obviously, but better than thirty minutes. Still. The brain should not go without oxygen for more than three minutes. Mine went for over three times that amount.

I don’t have much problem accepting that all this happened to me or that I went through something  medically traumatic. What I do have a hard time accepting is that I escaped it seemingly without any lasting physical damage. Survivor’s guilt is real and I’m struggling with it. Why the hell was I spared from the grim realities of what happened to me? I’ve read other stories of miraculous SCA survivals and even in those, there is still SOME damage. Or it took much longer to recover. I was walking normally within three days of waking up. I had a few issues with my vision and a huge issue with my stamina. I had a mild tremor in my middle left finger. That was the extent of it, though, and it all went away within the first month of returning home–except the stamina. I had a walker, but I never needed it to walk. I had someone help me wash my hair for two months, but that was simply a stamina issue. I could have done it myself if not for the part where I got tired so easily. I didn’t need the commode my brother put together and I was able to make it to the bathroom from the start. I didn’t have any accidents and stopped wearing my pull-up briefs after a month or so.


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