Every year, my dad sends me an email asking what my Christmas wishlist is, so that he can forward it to Santa. I am twenty five years old and my father still refers to Santa Claus, his little helpers, and Mrs. Claus. I am not allowed to be cynical about this because my friends all make me feel like an asshole that my father has a weird youth-obsession with Santa Claus and preserving the myth. Yeah, I'm the asshole. Not the guy who says Santa is still real. I even get scared that by acknowledging it as a myth, I will somehow get no presents that year. The real reason why this bothers me so much is when I receive a truly amazing gift, I want to hug and thank my parents, not be told "thank Santa Claus!"
I agonize when this email comes, because as my father has made known for years now, I have expensive tastes. Now that I'm old enough to understand that Santa Claus actually has real helpers spending real money that they earned on me, I get Christmas guilt. So, I've decided to make two lists this year. The actual one, which is so boring that includes new running shoes and a subscription to New York Magazine, and my magical one, which is listed below. These are the presents that I deeply want, if magic were possible.
An Almodóvar-styled trip to Spain. I am obsessed with Pedro and his films, and have been since I saw Volver. I am also obsessed with Spain. When I graduated from college, I dreamed of spending months in Spain exploring and life got in the way. When I watch Almodóvar's films, I see Spain the same way I saw New York in movies before I was able to visit and live. I want to recreate the journey Manuela makes in Todo Sobre Mi Madre from Madrid to Barcelona, when she travels in the tunnel and the next shot is a soaring view of Barcelona from above at dusk. I want to go to La Mancha from Volver and eat in the cafe where Raimunda hides a dead body, visit the graveyard where the women are cleaning the graves in the wind, and stay in Tia Paula's house. I even wouldn't mind being kept prisoner in Toledo as in La Piel Que Habito.
An original Keith Haring print. Keith Haring is one of my favorite artists because I've never felt so connected to any other. To me, his work represents youth, color, pain, and in just a word: life. I have been lucky enough to see his work (the real ones - not those printed on everything from backpacks to baby bibs to IKEA stickers) and there's no other way to describe what I feel walking away from it than alive. He was a social activist, a brilliant mind, and a beautiful soul. Gimme. Side note: I would settle for any work of art. I love art, and I don't have enough of it.
A time machine. Not to go back and change anything, but I have always wondered what the people I love were like when they were little kids. I would go back to be a fly on the wall and follow my friends and family around on a single day in their life to see what has changed and what has stayed the same. People I'm dying to see: my mom with her knee-high socks, my dad when he was the high school class president, my friend Courtney when she was a toddler to see her faces, my boyfriend to see him in his cowboy outfit, my friend Kacie in her fat days, and my little brother just to confirm that he was as weird as I remember him to be.
A Super 8 camera and endless amounts of film. In my wildest dreams, I am a filmmaker. And since we're on the topic of magic, anything filmed with Super 8 film looks like magic. Everything looks warm, vintage, romantic, and rich. Don't believe me? Check this out. If you don't get it, then I don't know what to tell you. But I have always loved juxtaposing the old-fashioned with the new. If I had the most magical Christmas ever, I would get one of these cameras and film all of my monumental life events with it. I promise, I'll use it!
A private concert with Joni Mitchell. Because I don't cry enough already.
A boat. Preferably a yacht, but I don't want to be greedy or anything on my magic Xmas list. I want a boat because more and more, I fall in love with the ocean. Plus, a boat would allow for me to fake my own death if I ever needed to, like Olivia Newton-John's boyfriend did. I would really love a houseboat, so I could travel all over the place. The only places truly worth going to are nearby bodies of water, so this would be a perfect mode of transportation and lodging. It needs to be two stories, though.
Eureeka's Castle on DVD. 'Nuff said.
To eat meat guilt free. Look, I said this list was magical. I have been really craving meat lately, but I can't bring myself to eat it because I think of the process that took place in growing and bringing that meat to me. The farther away I get from my initial decision to become a vegetarian, the harder it gets for me to remember those values. I'm going on two years, and sometimes I just want a chicken wing. But I know I would be sick - not only because I haven't had that disgusting, almost dog-grade level of meat for 2 years and because I have the worst conscience ever. I would be so much more open to eating meat if I knew the animal was respected, utilized to the fullest extent, and not pumped with hormones and antibiotics. I don't know if I would eat meat in that case, but I wouldn't feel so bad if I did. Merry fucking Christmas.
Rag & Bone Wakefield Boat Shoe Boots. Perhaps the only thing on this list I could actually afford after three months of saving.
A life without Facebook. I hate Facebook. The more I log on, the more I hate it. I'm tired of seeing people I graduated with get pregnant. I'm tired of reading about Jesus. I'm tired of hiding people from my news feed. Ever since I wrote about the things I really hate about Facebook, I have begun to hate it more. Facebook serves 2 extremely important purposes to me, though: 1) I keep in touch with my friends. So many of my closest friends live far away, and I can't bring myself to get rid of my profile completely, even though I know I should. It's like I'm a hoarder of friends, because I engage in continuous eye-rolling at 80% of the people I'm friends with. It's like my friends are a collection of 700 porcelain dolls, and only 100 of them are valuable. I'm just holding onto the other 600 because I'm batshit crazy. The 2nd important purpose Facebook serves is for the new tradition of sharing chillingly awful photos of high school classmates with my friend Kacie over email, AKA "adult cyber bullying."
The chance to dance with my Grandma to "Rockin Around the Christmas Tree" again. Because I don't cry enough already.
A watch. This may not seem like an unrealistic gift, but it totally is. Every time I go to buy myself a watch I agonize, sometimes for hours which is really stressful because there's a watch right in front of you telling you exactly how long you are spending agonizing over which watch to buy. I inevitably come to the conclusion that it's not functional, even though I go into Swatch knowing this and saying "I'm getting it as an accessory." The truth is, I see people with cool watches all the time and I get secretly jealous wondering just how they fucking do it.
Vintage Christmas ornaments. Because I can't find them anywhere, and they awaken the 1950s housewife deep inside of me.
A skydiving trip. I'm known as the daredevil of my family, having loved thrill rides ever since I rode Space Mountain at the tender age of five years old. Skydiving scares the pure, natural shit out of me because the threat seems so real. I know that it's not something I would do on my own initiative, but if I received it as a gift from someone else, I would feel obligated and just have to go. I would also have to go with a friend, and if the friend got it for me as a gift then I wouldn't feel so bad if they died and not me, cause it's like "Hey, I didn't buy it."
A job as a real writer. I would love to get paid to write in my blog, or write for someone else. My writing has become sloppy and very much "in my own voice," over the years since I've been out of school, so I don't know how I could obtain a real writing career without say, a Christmas miracle? I would love to publish things and actually perfect my work and do something with it than have it live forever in an underviewed blog. (But thank you for viewing.) So... in the words of Britney Spears: Santa, can you hear me?
This thing.
I agonize when this email comes, because as my father has made known for years now, I have expensive tastes. Now that I'm old enough to understand that Santa Claus actually has real helpers spending real money that they earned on me, I get Christmas guilt. So, I've decided to make two lists this year. The actual one, which is so boring that includes new running shoes and a subscription to New York Magazine, and my magical one, which is listed below. These are the presents that I deeply want, if magic were possible.
An Almodóvar-styled trip to Spain. I am obsessed with Pedro and his films, and have been since I saw Volver. I am also obsessed with Spain. When I graduated from college, I dreamed of spending months in Spain exploring and life got in the way. When I watch Almodóvar's films, I see Spain the same way I saw New York in movies before I was able to visit and live. I want to recreate the journey Manuela makes in Todo Sobre Mi Madre from Madrid to Barcelona, when she travels in the tunnel and the next shot is a soaring view of Barcelona from above at dusk. I want to go to La Mancha from Volver and eat in the cafe where Raimunda hides a dead body, visit the graveyard where the women are cleaning the graves in the wind, and stay in Tia Paula's house. I even wouldn't mind being kept prisoner in Toledo as in La Piel Que Habito.
 |
| Gimme. |
A time machine. Not to go back and change anything, but I have always wondered what the people I love were like when they were little kids. I would go back to be a fly on the wall and follow my friends and family around on a single day in their life to see what has changed and what has stayed the same. People I'm dying to see: my mom with her knee-high socks, my dad when he was the high school class president, my friend Courtney when she was a toddler to see her faces, my boyfriend to see him in his cowboy outfit, my friend Kacie in her fat days, and my little brother just to confirm that he was as weird as I remember him to be.
A Super 8 camera and endless amounts of film. In my wildest dreams, I am a filmmaker. And since we're on the topic of magic, anything filmed with Super 8 film looks like magic. Everything looks warm, vintage, romantic, and rich. Don't believe me? Check this out. If you don't get it, then I don't know what to tell you. But I have always loved juxtaposing the old-fashioned with the new. If I had the most magical Christmas ever, I would get one of these cameras and film all of my monumental life events with it. I promise, I'll use it!
A private concert with Joni Mitchell. Because I don't cry enough already.
A boat. Preferably a yacht, but I don't want to be greedy or anything on my magic Xmas list. I want a boat because more and more, I fall in love with the ocean. Plus, a boat would allow for me to fake my own death if I ever needed to, like Olivia Newton-John's boyfriend did. I would really love a houseboat, so I could travel all over the place. The only places truly worth going to are nearby bodies of water, so this would be a perfect mode of transportation and lodging. It needs to be two stories, though.
Eureeka's Castle on DVD. 'Nuff said.
 |
| Gimme. |
A life without Facebook. I hate Facebook. The more I log on, the more I hate it. I'm tired of seeing people I graduated with get pregnant. I'm tired of reading about Jesus. I'm tired of hiding people from my news feed. Ever since I wrote about the things I really hate about Facebook, I have begun to hate it more. Facebook serves 2 extremely important purposes to me, though: 1) I keep in touch with my friends. So many of my closest friends live far away, and I can't bring myself to get rid of my profile completely, even though I know I should. It's like I'm a hoarder of friends, because I engage in continuous eye-rolling at 80% of the people I'm friends with. It's like my friends are a collection of 700 porcelain dolls, and only 100 of them are valuable. I'm just holding onto the other 600 because I'm batshit crazy. The 2nd important purpose Facebook serves is for the new tradition of sharing chillingly awful photos of high school classmates with my friend Kacie over email, AKA "adult cyber bullying."
The chance to dance with my Grandma to "Rockin Around the Christmas Tree" again. Because I don't cry enough already.
A watch. This may not seem like an unrealistic gift, but it totally is. Every time I go to buy myself a watch I agonize, sometimes for hours which is really stressful because there's a watch right in front of you telling you exactly how long you are spending agonizing over which watch to buy. I inevitably come to the conclusion that it's not functional, even though I go into Swatch knowing this and saying "I'm getting it as an accessory." The truth is, I see people with cool watches all the time and I get secretly jealous wondering just how they fucking do it.
 |
| Gimme |
A skydiving trip. I'm known as the daredevil of my family, having loved thrill rides ever since I rode Space Mountain at the tender age of five years old. Skydiving scares the pure, natural shit out of me because the threat seems so real. I know that it's not something I would do on my own initiative, but if I received it as a gift from someone else, I would feel obligated and just have to go. I would also have to go with a friend, and if the friend got it for me as a gift then I wouldn't feel so bad if they died and not me, cause it's like "Hey, I didn't buy it."
A job as a real writer. I would love to get paid to write in my blog, or write for someone else. My writing has become sloppy and very much "in my own voice," over the years since I've been out of school, so I don't know how I could obtain a real writing career without say, a Christmas miracle? I would love to publish things and actually perfect my work and do something with it than have it live forever in an underviewed blog. (But thank you for viewing.) So... in the words of Britney Spears: Santa, can you hear me?
This thing.
One more childhood Christmas with my extended family. Every year, I looked forward to seeing all of my cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents in Pennsylvania, where it was actually cold and sometimes even snowed. Sure, it was awesome because it was nothing but a present-grab, but Christmas was everything to me. Playing with my cousins around the house, dinner, presents, then more playing, and the dreaded end of the day when it was all over. I think part of the reason I want kids so much is so that I can try to replicate the amazing childhood I had. I miss it so much.
For kids to magically be nicer. Cue: eye rolls. However, if there's anything I've learned 2+ years I've spent working with LGBT youth, it's that kids are fucking brutal. Oh wait, I already knew that from my own high school experience. The worst part is visiting classrooms and seeing all of these young people who really aren't horrible people, but for one reason or another, engage in such shitty, awful behavior. Sure, it's part of growing up, but "part of growing up" has never included so many young, out LGBT youth. And so many out LGBT youth are seriously contemplating ending it all. This is a new phenomenon, and every time I hear another story of a youth who is brought to the brink of ending their own life or hurting themselves, I wonder why? I see potential in all young people when I go to a classroom. I don't see evil, I don't see good, I just see potential. The potential in all of them to be kind. The trick is helping them to understand, at a time when only they themselves matter, that it is necessary to consider other people. To get "bitten" by the bug of kindness while they are young, before they're old and become Rick Perry. I just wish more of them did more often. And world peace.
For Marcus Bachmann to come out of the closet. Because I don't cry enough tears of joy already.
Here's hoping. Santa Claus! (Dad!) If you're there... I've been a really good boy!
What would be on your magical Christmas list?
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