I should also state, that December 25th is my date of birth.
Every year since 1983 I have had to share the spotlight with Jesus and the jolly fat guy. I've had many people attest to the "coolness" of having my birthday on Christmas but no one really knows what it's like.
It sucks big Christmas balls.
Everyone and their Mom receives gifts (depending on when Hanukkah lies, sorry Rag) on my birthday and I am continually forced to rearrange my day or not spend time with the ones I want to spend time with because they are with their own respective families. All I wanted this year was to be on a warm, sunny beach with myself. No one else.
I'm tired of the hype, the gift giving, the Ho Ho Ho's, the seasons greetings and the nonchalant-ness of the commercialization of the Holiday. I'm just plain tired of not getting my way. There I said it, I'm a brat. I want nothing to do with anyone associated with Christmas. It's the crappiest time of the year.
Often, when someone asks to see a form of identification, they will notice my D.O.B. and say:
"OH! You're a Christmas baby! That's so cool! Do you get double the presents?" "Actually, no, but everyone else does!"
She looks disappointed. And I smile like a smart ass.
My birthday is not special. Yeah it's cool that I share my birthday with Jesus, but seriously, where is the Christ in Christmas? It's all about good ol' Saint Nick-him and his dumb reindeer ruin everything.
See. While most people have a birthday like, March 1st or August 11th or even October 15th it's a day all its own. Its a day you get to look forward to, a day that you and ONLY you get presents from loved ones and get to go get drunk with your friends. When the Christmakkauh season approaches you, again, have something to look forward to. A day of presents, family and joy. Me? It's all in one fucking day. My birthday is shared with everyone else receiving gifts they asked Santa for and I in turn also have to give gifts on my birthday.
Again, I'm a brat.
When I was younger my older cousin, also a brat, didn't understand why I received extra presents on Christmas. She couldn't grasp that Christmas was in fact my birthday. She then would run to the well-lit tree and begin to open my gifts. This occurred on my 4th birthday, and it's documented on video. It kept occurring year after year, until I "didn't celebrate" my birthday on my birthday. I would open my birthday gifts on Christmas Eve so as to not upset my incoherent, incompetent family member.
Am I traumatized? Hells to the yeah. I hate a big hoopla. I hate when non-family members feel obligated to have a birthday cake for me at their house where I am spending Christmas. I hate that I have to choose which family to appease and which family to disappoint on my day of birth. And I hate that no one is around.
On my 21st birthday, I sat alone in my bedroom. Crying. I should have been at a bar, barely able to hold myself up. Instead, the bars close on December 25th.
This year, all I ask of the dude with the white beard and red suit: World Peace and a new birthday.
'Tis the season!