What's wrong with this picture?

Well it's that time of year again. The big man is on his way around the world to deliver lot's of toys, MP3 players, a various assortment of apple branded electronics and other expensive gifts sought after by materialistic young children and in many cases, teenagers...and in other rarer cases, adults who are lucky enough to be on Santa's nice list.

Oh, I don't a problem with this at all. God no. I am one of those 20 somethings who is very much looking forward to receiving my new Prada sunglasses, which I assisted an elf in picking. I expect they will be wrapped and placed with the greatest of care in my Santa stocking some time tonight while visions of sugar plums dance in my head... most likely these visions of sugar plums will be a direct result of my spending Christmas eve with some friends, in their pool, getting cheery, because that is what 20 somethings do on Christmas in Australia.

What I have a problem with is the whole notion of a stressful Christmas. Christmas should be spent enjoying the company of family and friends, appreciating how lucky you are to have whatever you have, relaxing over the break that the government itself has deemed compulsory for everyone to take. Families shouldn't care about whether your windows are a bit salty, when you live on the beach. Grandparents who have been divorced more than 30 years should not be acting like children over not wanting to be in the same house as each other for the same meal at the same time and hence creating two separate Christmas's. The air should not be thick with tension and stress for absolutely no apparent reason what so ever, beyond a dinner that is more than 24 hours away.  There should be no accusations, indirectly or otherwise, of a ruined Christmas towards one person due to a silly miscommunication. It should not be the end of the world that one person wants to do community service work in the hours that couldn't otherwise be filled, despite it being a mild inconvenience to the grandparents who are boycotting dinner because they don't want to be in the same room as another grandparent.

At first, I honestly thought I was being immature and naive about the whole Christmas situation. Then I realised, that actually, I am the one who is;

 Telling people to relax.

Telling people that cleaning on Christmas eve is unnecessary because family is here to see you not to judge the cleanliness of your windows.

Volunteering to lifeguard the beach at lunchtime because I was told we were having Christmas dinner not an additional lunch and because I want to give something back to the community.

Trying to come up with solutions to the problems of a family Christmas rather than yell and scream about it.

So actually, I don't think I am being naive and immature, I think I am acting like a grown up. To top it off, all I really want for Christmas, is for my whole family to just get along and act like a loving family who is grateful for the incredible opportunities that they have been given, and proud of the enormous achievements and effort they have made to get to this point in their lives. I want Dad to at least pretend to listen when I talk and I want mum to stop being stressed over the tiniest little things. I just want everyone to be happy and merry. I think that's a pretty grown up wish.

I guess if that can't be the case though, I will settle for tomato flan and turkey.

Merry Christmas.

A Summer Fling with Shakespeare

I have been so stuck for what to write about in this past month. All the things I am thinking have been thought before. All the things I am feeling have been thought before and so it seems rather pointless to ramble on about things in a repetitive fashion.

One thing I have been doing with my summer, given that there has been no writing,  is reading books. I have been reading everything from reality criminal trials to Stephen Kings paranormal fiction. What I love about reading is that it is such a silent form of communication and entertainment. So many things can be happening! Wars are breaking out, heroes are saving the day, aliens are taking over the planet and people are falling in and out of love and all this is happening over a couple of pages. Nothing is said out loud, in fact there is minimal movement at all. Everything is inside your head. No one sees or hears anything. It is such a personal experience. There is so much to learn from books it is overwhelming.

I know e books are all the rage in this technological age, but I just feel that there is something perfect about turning the pages physically. There is something  glorious about a book that comes with a history, a personality and a few random smudges. The simplicity, the assurance that it will not disappear at a wrong click. It does not require electrical power, only mind power. I am privileged to be able to share something as special as a story, with all the great literary geniuses.