...how I single-handedly saved Festivus.
Tonight I drove into the sinking sun on my way back to Stilly (that is, Stillwater, but only residents have the right to call it "Stilly"--same thing with Philidelphia). It was the end of a short stay at the Parents' house for some celebration of Christmas and commercialism, a stay during which I spent a lot of money, recieved some gifts, and spent zero hours on my bike, even though I had promised to get some cycling in. It was with a somber mood that I purposefully turned the radio off and prepared my mind for some musings.
Long drives are really great. They're a lot like long bike rides, except for the fact that you're never worried about the headwind, the next hill, or what gear you happen to be in. In other words, they're really great for some relaxing philosophical thought. With the spectre of economics news still fresh in my head (I had been listening to Marketplace, on NPR), I tried to think of something philosophical to ponder. I couldn't. Eventually I reverted back to my old ways and spent some time singing along with a Barry White tune.
I probably should have been thinking about how I would spend this, the last day of Festivus. It's a made-up holiday (though, aren't they all?) which is usually attributed to the writers of Seinfeld. I celebrate my own version of the holiday, which sticks with Festivus tradition, but has a few extra tweaks. The main attraction, instead of the menorah or decorated tree, is an unadorned, lusterless aluminum pole. Why? It's got a high strength to weight ratio. It also represents the heart of Festivus, the stripping down of the commercial holiday which Christmas in particular has become. There aren't any presents in my version of Festivus, which begins on December 21st, the birthday of my lord and savior, Samuel L. Jackson, and ends on December 26th, so I get to celebrate for one day after the Christmas festivities proper are done. There really aren't many other facets to this celebration, other than maintaining a healthy distain for Christmas throughout these six days.
But wait, you may rightly ask me, didn't you say in your first paragraph that you bought and recieved presents? That sounds a whole lot like Christmas commercialism to me.
Okay, you got me. I do celebrate Christmas, loosely, even though I believe the "reason for the season" is as fake as Santa himself. I partake in the gift giving aspects of the holiday because, well, I like presents. Sue me.
Speaking of which, Lucy got a really sweet LED head and tail light set today, with which I braved the darkness of mid-afternoon to pedal down to the Yuppie Coffee Shop (much closer than the Hipster Coffee Shop, but much less ironic) and purchased a really nasty soy-latte. Side Note: Never go to the Yuppie Coffee Shop. It's very consistently nasty.
Anyway, I'm sitting here, ignoring my brimstone-tasting drink, writing this post, and keeping Festivus alive. You see, because the miracle of Festivus is that it exists solely in the minds and hearts of those who practice it, and by nurturing its little flame of non-denominational holiday-like goodness, I have, as I attested in my subtitle, saved festivus. Is that kind of a let-down? I try to write big lead ups to the conclusions in my posts, but I guess they just never come out right.
Oh well, here it is.
Happy Festivus! Screw you, Christmas!