Sunday, December 25, 2005

"Merry Christmas"

Well, if you haven't noticed on here the updates have been few and far bettween the past month. Well to be honest its been hard to get on here and update. I have major problems with my computer in my apartment. Also now the new apartment takes up a lot of my free time to clean and what not. But now that obviously all my shopping for Christmas is done, I will have more free time to decidate to the blog. I have had so many rants that just never made their way out of my brain no the the blog. So keept his in your daily routine to check at work or whenever.

As per usual here is my traditional christmas story posting.



"The Gift"Some time around the first week of the year. I took a second look at one of our traditional Christmas decorations; it was a complete and total eyesore. It was a gift some old lady gave my mother 10 years ago for Christmas and I guess she felt obligated to put it on the tree each year. It was a gaudy looking knitted cat. It was one the most hideous things I have ever laid eyes on.

They say its thought that counts well it’s the thought that angers me when I see it every year.That same Christmas like every year an epidemic spread through the grade school. This year it was in the form of Sega, the newest video game system. Over greasy square pizza, pale yellow peas, and flavorless mashed potatoes shaped like an ice cream scoop, I would hear all the kids discuss the latest video games. I would try my best to stay absent from the conversation. I wouldn’t know what to say when they would ask me if I had gotten past the castle board yet.

One day went I went home I sat my father down and tried to tell him how I would benefit from having a Sega game system of my very own. I told him it would give me better hand eye coordination and against the popular notion it made kids zombies, I told him it acutally made them think and make quick decisions. He went on and on about how when he was a kid he would just use his imagination to have fun, and how kids today are spoiled. I think that conversation is had all over America in every family at one point and time. I used to think that my parents and all the other parents would go to secret meetings at night or when all their kids were in school and discuss stuff like this. I pictured a man with a gavel leading the meeting and hammering home the idea of telling children why they are spoiled and to shove vegetables down their throats. One time I actually searched my mother’s purse for a pamphlet when they got home late the night before.That Christmas I was hoping for a miracle.

I rushed down the steps that morning and studied each mystery. I did the shake test, the weight test and the hold them up to the sunlight test. As I tore, open each one my chances of getting the coveted Sega was getting slimmer and slimmer. All kinds of flashes were going off from my mother’s camera capturing images of me, and my reactions to each present. Later that day my family and I went to my aunt and uncle’s for dinner.

I was in a miserable mood the whole time. The only bright spot was that my cousin Robby who was about my age was there. And guess what he got for Christmas? Of course the very same Sega system. He told me he got it weeks before Christmas even came. Robby and I were always highly competitive. So while the sweet smell of the pending ham dinner dissipated through the air we settled down in front of the television. With all those weeks of practice, he had on me he humiliated me. I think he set a record for goals scored in a hockey game, shot my plane down about a dozen times, and beat me all over the wrestling ring. I went home feeling worse than I did when I realized I wasn’t getting the Sega.

On the ride home my father tried to reach out to me. But I just pushed him away. The image of my wrestler I was controlling laying on the floor after about 30 seconds was burning in my mind. I sat in fit of rage in the back seat as my parents were in the front. My father turned the radio down. He told me that maybe one day I would get one. But I didn’t hear it. I wanted to tell him how Robby’s parents weren’t any richer than we, that I was the only kid that didn’t have a Sega. But all that came out at the top of my tiny lungs was I HATE YOU! And instead of saying anything after that. I just repeated I HATE YOU! Because he was driving of course he had his back to me. But we passed a street light that light up the rear view window and I glimpse of his face. Suddenly I didn’t want to yell anymore. I did not apologize either, in fact no one said anything. The car just hummed along the rest of the ride.

About two months later I got a Sega for my birthday. It funny the minute I unwrapped the gift and realized what it was, I almost had to fake excitement. Sure I spend many a night in the glow of my television going to far off lands and winning championships, but I could never take those words back. At least in a video game you are blessed with more than one life. At the time I meant the words that came out of my mouth. I hated my father as much as I hate that stupid knit cat now. One time after coming home from a fishing trip with my father after many years of those words keeping me up at night, it figured it was time to apologize. However my mouth froze, I never did. I like to think that my father knew what I was thinking. Like I said they say it’s the thought that counts. I put the rest of the ornaments in a box, and I carried them basement. I placed them in a closet we hardly used. It was full of dust and mildew. I rested the box right on top of the Sega.