Catalogues are evil.
Brace yourselves, I'm getting sentimental.
Christmas and I, it's a love-hate-love relationship.
I love the cheesiness of it all, I hate that it reminds me that I am not with family, and in some twisted Freudian way, I love that I hate yet love it.
It all started with the Christmas catalogues I've been hording - Westfield Centre, David Jones, Myers, Queen Victoria's Building - I love looking at Christmas packages and would be one of those suckers advertising companies are targeting.
I started getting Christmas tunes in my head. First it was Jingle Bell Rock, then it was Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.
Then I start humming them out loud, which lead to wondering about the carolers back home, and the hymns that my church's choir will choose to sing this year. Hopefully, they'll sing Away in a Manger at least once. It's my mom's favourite.
Our family usually attends mass on Christmas day itself where us kids are dragged out of bed, year on year, at six in the morning to attend the 7.30am mass.
When the ordeal ends about 9.30am, we drive home to pick dad (who, when I was nine or so, told me that he believed in dinosaurs, not God) up for breakfast.
Then we go home, and mom whips out her camera and starts sticking it into everyone's face while we open our gifts, all the while taunting us as if we were monkeys at the zoo.
*Waves at everyone*
"Look here, Kevin, look here! Kim, look here! Lisa! Lisa! Jon, aiyah don't pretend to be cool. Faster! Smile!"
Dad, nonchalant as always, would ask what the present he had just opened is, even when it's obvious he's holding a pair of new leather shoes, or a new shirt. Because there's really nothing we can get for the man who has everything.
And then we gather to take the obligatory Christmas family picture, in front of the same tree, which is placed in the same spot, year on year, with the worn out angel next to the new star we bought just a few years ago.
I want to go home :(
Christmas and I, it's a love-hate-love relationship.
I love the cheesiness of it all, I hate that it reminds me that I am not with family, and in some twisted Freudian way, I love that I hate yet love it.
It all started with the Christmas catalogues I've been hording - Westfield Centre, David Jones, Myers, Queen Victoria's Building - I love looking at Christmas packages and would be one of those suckers advertising companies are targeting.
I started getting Christmas tunes in my head. First it was Jingle Bell Rock, then it was Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.
Then I start humming them out loud, which lead to wondering about the carolers back home, and the hymns that my church's choir will choose to sing this year. Hopefully, they'll sing Away in a Manger at least once. It's my mom's favourite.
Our family usually attends mass on Christmas day itself where us kids are dragged out of bed, year on year, at six in the morning to attend the 7.30am mass.
When the ordeal ends about 9.30am, we drive home to pick dad (who, when I was nine or so, told me that he believed in dinosaurs, not God) up for breakfast.
Then we go home, and mom whips out her camera and starts sticking it into everyone's face while we open our gifts, all the while taunting us as if we were monkeys at the zoo.
*Waves at everyone*
"Look here, Kevin, look here! Kim, look here! Lisa! Lisa! Jon, aiyah don't pretend to be cool. Faster! Smile!"
Dad, nonchalant as always, would ask what the present he had just opened is, even when it's obvious he's holding a pair of new leather shoes, or a new shirt. Because there's really nothing we can get for the man who has everything.
And then we gather to take the obligatory Christmas family picture, in front of the same tree, which is placed in the same spot, year on year, with the worn out angel next to the new star we bought just a few years ago.
I want to go home :(
posted by Keem at 7:50 PM
:
aww don sad don sad:( this yr i record every rant mom has and show you okaaaay. now i oredi thinking of how to get up at an ungodly hour of 630 for church. and i can already predict that im gonna have a hangover then. oh no.
i know how that feels... aww, try call home on that day, might help if you heard their voices?
sis.. pooooo, easy for you to say, i bought you tickets to go home! :P i better get reports man.
lc.. don't know if that'd help or just make me more miserable. working on christmas eve (at least i hope i still am). would be easier if i was just really busy and sped through the whole thing.
well. i paid too. just not as much as you did:D am so the exciting to go back! 4 yrs liaw din spend xmas at home! yippie yippie yay yay!
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