Tag: Christmas

When I’m Filling A Stocking…

When I’m filling a stocking for someone special, I try to fill it with:

-Something to eat

-Something to drink

-Something to wear – usually socks and boxers or both (Obviously thinking about spouse here)

-Something to write in, diary or notepad with pen.

-Some type of useful gadget that needs batteries. I was going to buy a nose/ear trimmer for my spouse but realised I’d never actually seen any stray hairs sprouting from either orifice, in thirty years, and so thought this might be a bit insulting. Turns out he would have welcomed them. I suppose he’s been doing it in secret, trimming, I mean. (An ideal Christmas gift opportunity down the pan).

Some type of exciting but esentially useless gadget, that appeals to men’s little-boy-that-never-grew-up mentality.

Something to drink out of – Christmas themed or other type of drink vehicle filled with socks, marshmallows and/or generic hot chocolate mix. Got him a Batman mug and socks that I secretly wanted. (Christmas is nothing if not about sacrifice).

Something to splash on. (Got to be Brut lotion in his case)

Something out of the box/miscellaneous, unexpected, that doesn’t fit into any category.

Booby prize – Actually, only just thought about this one, as a possible stocking filler idea.

Toiletries- Just the few essential packs of razors and shaving foam.

Mastermind Vintage – A really cheap perfume for men, that smells like sugar, with a tiny bit of musk, which he obviously didn’t like, which he gave to me. Remember these are not the real present/gift items. It’s fun supplementary.

Lambrini Rhubarb – He likes sweet things and he doesn’t normally drink so I thought lightweight, sweet, refreshing and delicious, can’t lose, but again, he passed it onto me. I’m sensing a pattern here. Tastes like melted plastic to me. Like the Christmas Pudding and Custard Stout I bought, which tasted like nothing I’ve ever drank before, and hope I never will again, I thought it would go straight down the sink, and for me to pour alcohol down the sink, it has to be bad, but I drank a can of this, and now I have heartburn.

As usual, everything was last minute for me this year, like the men you see going out at Christmas Eve to buy perfume. Actually, it’s usually the day before, under cover of darkness, at 4.30 p.m, and you can see the pain in their eyes, even in the winter solstice.

I try to include a delicate balance of different useful things, but it was a bit hit and miss this year, more miss than hit. So… I’m going to have a P.S Day. Things forgotten and not purchased through lack of time, energy, indecision, trauma, hot discount store, or some other reason and we’re going to have another Christmas Stocking, in the next few days, a sort of add on, an expansion, like those video games, only with those nose hair trimmers nestling uncomfortably on top.

Merry Christmas Everyone!

Quote Of The Week

‘Christmas in France is very unlike the five to six day glut which we seem to endure in England. That desperate feeling of having to hoard enough food and drink for almost a week of siege never takes place. It is merely the celebration of the birth of Christ, and that is celebrated lavishly on Christmas Eve at Midnight Mass.’

Dirk Bogarde – A Short Walk From Harrods

Rejection and The Season Of Goodwill

Or…subheading…

Christmas And The Apocalypse

I realised today that we can’t do anything, or go anywhere, or interact with anyone, without the risk of rejection. We risk it in our social lives, in our everyday routines, in our careers, in our jobs, business, love lives, family, in everything we do, everywhere we go…

The rejection can be about simple things, interacting with someone in a shop, a work colleague, or a friend. We can feel rejected if they don’t laugh at our little jokes, give enough eye contact, respond the way we expect/want them to. What about our work? Do we feel appreciated? What if we’re rejected on a daily basis when we put our ideas forward, make little suggestions?

And if trivial little things get rejected, what about the big things, like declarations of love? Now there’s the biggie. What if a man or woman wants to change direction, be someone new? Perhaps they’ve been living an inauthentic life, but never knew it, until now. How do they go about suddenly being Jill if they were Jack? Maybe someone has suddenly found their voice but knows it will be met with rejection if they shouted from the rooftops.

Or it could be a creative thing. An aspiring novelist sharing their work for the first time…a playwright…an artist…a painter…a singer… an actor…let’s all wait for that moment…the hiatus…the point of no return. Let’s put it out there, all of us, pour ourselves out. Bathe in the vulnerability, shower in it. Feel the raw. Skin peeled off. Now you know. You’re in the middle of the whirlwind. You feel you might explode with the tension but there’s nothing you can do. You just have to ride it through. So you felt it and you realise there’s no escape. Every day, in every way, we risk (maybe it’s just me, I don’t want to tar you with the same brush) that feeling of…rejection but what is it really? Why is it so painful, so avoidable? Yes, AVOIDABLE. Why is it so easy to avoid? Or rather preferable? And why do we go on avoiding it, time after time?

Because avoiding pain is a human instinct.

The fear of rejection is a deep primal, primitive, gut wrenching instinct of survival…bringing you back to the infantile state. It doesn’t injure us physically but it can destroy us emotionally, psychologically. Or…hurt our pride? Pride is such a coward. And if we didn’t have this…if there was no risk, or we felt no risk, in other words if we didn’t care, how far could we go? Could rejection make us stronger, when we became immune through constant exposure?

I’m interested in what type of rejection is the hardest? Sexual? Creative? Professional? Personal relationships? Family? Are they all on an even keel? Does it depend on the person? Perhaps it’s different for everyone. We all have our archilles heel.

I haven’t recently been rejected, but I’m sure we’ve all been rejected recently…that’s not the reason for this post, it’s the RISK of rejection. Now there’s the key, there’s the Big Mamma. I need to share that and in doing so, have made myself vulnerable to the risk of rejection, in a way. It has to be done, I have to live it, if I’m going to advocate it, it’s all about the risk. Sometimes I think the risk is what hurts more than anything, it’s the ‘nothing-to-fear-but-fear-itself-thingy-my-gig, that’s the Bogie Man. The Bogie man is sick (we are sick, I am sick) and we need to haul his ass out of here.

People love vulnerability, it reminds them of themselves. Our rejections rub off on others. It inspires them. Schadenfreude. You are helping others gain pleasure through your misfortune, but what they don’t realise is, your rejection has a by product. That ‘by product’ is a bit like like gas, like a cow passing wind, except it helps others. You cannot lose here. They think you are crushed through rejection but how can you be crushed if you’ve helped them want to live for another day through Schadenfreude?

Most of our rejections are temporary. So it’ll be about pushing through and never giving in and believing in the passions of your life. We have nothing else but the passions of our life, which are those things which make us feel like we are in oxygen debt if we don’t keep doing them. So, stick your neck out. Put yourself out there, risk rejection. There’s no way we can actually  go through life without the risk, unless we live without any social contact. We have nothing to lose and everything to gain. Treat it as a game, and you will win, or at least get somewhere, move on. It’s better than standing still.

At this time of year, rejection takes on a darker hue, it becomes heightened and therefore harder to bear. We are aware of it more for ourselves and for others. Everyone gets a little crazy the week before Christmas. It’s that time limit, the countdown, the tension.

I saw an abandoned shopping trolley full of food in a supermarket. The place was absolutely jam packed and it was utter chaos. I could imagine the rising panic of the person who abandoned it and I hoped they were feeling better for running away, more liberated, less tense. I was feeling it too. I wanted to run too, but I soldiered on. I was proud of them, whoever they were. It was a positive slant to their panic attack. They took action and got out of that hell hole. At this time of year, people just aren’t thinking straight, and another thing they’ll do is put something in a trolley and often abandon it on the sweet shelves by the check out. Why does it always seem to be a chilled or frozen product? Is it some kind of sod’s law?

People are so irritated and annoyed and panicky right now. Mothers yell at their kids more. Spouses snap at spouses. In fact, there’s much more chance of rejection this time of year than any other (Except perhaps for Valentine’s day)

People stock up on food as if it’s an apocalypse and an apocalypse is always a lonely feeling. I cam imagine an apocalypse brings rejection in bucket loads.

But Christmas isn’t an apocalypse, it’s a holiday. It’s a time for joy, love, giving and receiving, the season of goodwill, but sometimes the bleeding obvious needs to be stated now and again.

Merry Christmas Everyone.