South Park Self

I feel the same

Apparently I have opted out of christmas this year. Not that I ever really opt in to any great extent, but I have cancelled my lunch plans owing to low-grade virus and nausea (sorry, Claire!), and have been at home playing Inquisition all day, enjoying the mild rain and coolth, and pretending it's a normal holiday sort of space. This caused me a twinge of guilt for all of about .1 of a nanosecond, and a vague self-pitying gosh-aren't-I-a-sad-thing for about the same amount of time, and then I thought, actually, no, stuff it, this is perfect, and exactly how I want to spend the day, and I'll be buggered if I'll feel ashamed of it. Bah, in fact, humbug. Although without malice and entirely without Scrooge's misanthropic grumpiness. I'm not misanthropically grumpy. I am quietly content. Christmas has my goodwill and best wishes as long as it continues to pass me by.

I think consumerism killed christmas for me, actually. I quite enjoy how kids enjoy christmas, and with the right mix of people giant christmas meals can be fun, but for me the season is poisoned at source by the relentless, jingle-themed, tinsel-encrusted pressure to buy, buy, buy - to expensively furnish the lavish iconage demanded by a social contract I don't think I ever really signed. It destroys any joy I might otherwise take in giving people presents; it makes me feel anxious, threatened, overwhelmed, resentful and slightly homicidal. I need not specify to my habitual readers, I hope, that the season has absolutely no religious significance for me whatsoever, so there's not even that. (As a recovering ex-pagan who still somewhat enjoys the symbolism I might feel impelled to have jolly winter Solstice feasts in a be-loudly-merry-to-make-winter-go-away sort of fashion, except that we're in the wrong hemisphere and it's too bloody hot. Maybe I'll have one in June. Idea.)

At any rate, all of the above notwithstanding, I hope that the seasonal wossnames have been appropriate and splendid for you all, and that any family gatherings have been characterised by good cheer and plenty rather than the stress and tension which can be the Dark Side of many of our traditions. Happy, in fact, Christmas. Or equivalent. To the depth you prefer.

I go kill demons now, and close fade rifts, and romance cute inarticulate Templars, because I can. It's Christmas.

(My subject line is a horribly lateral Sherlock quote which relies on hideous amounts of context to appreciate the full and layered signification clashes of the interchange. The preceding sentence is "But it's Christmas!", and the context is blackmail and villainy. Non-Sherlock fans can move right along, although all things considered they've probably abandoned me many moons ago in sheer baffled fury.)
I know, it's a bizarre and inconceivable idea, but I was trying to be tolerant and open-minded... ;> Believing six impossible things before breakfast exercises the imagination and builds up mental muscle-tone.
We had 12 for lunch. Turkey, ham, all the trimmings. Children giddy with presents. Me giddy with sparkling wine. We overcatered nicely. Good fun :)
Glad you enjoyed the quietude of Inquisition.
Hope you're soon feeling fully recovered and rested. Happy New Year to you and Hobbit (and any other feline familiars I may have forgotten)