Driving home with a belly full of Apple Sauce, Sparkling Cider, and Cherry Coke Jello Salad (am I Americana, or what?) I was thinking about my Top 5 Christmas presents, and then what I would get for my readers (that’s You) of Not Keeping Score
My Top 5 were presents were:
#5: A 15 lb. zip-up fleece, self-heating, vibrating, foot warmer with 12′ extension cord
#4: A plastic splatter guard to place over food in the microwave in place of a paper towel
#3: A murder mystery written by me, age 9 (found by my father, in an old bookshelf)
#2: A pack of fortune cookies
–I have to interject here. I feel guilty, because this year I didn’t give presents, unless you count poking my cousins in the ribs one by one and whispering that they smell bad (in my family, this is called “giving affection” — I am the only female cousin save one who lives in New York, and so exchanges among the cousins growing up have been limited to noogies, half nelsons, and crude jokes).
Selfish or not, I just didn’t feel like the purchasing of gifts would be appropriate; I’ve been in this “life transition” and, frankly, acting very “Shi-Shi-Zen,” (this is my personal coining for self-righteous Northern Cali types who “live simply,” but still live upscale. Think Berkeley Hills. Think Whole Foods Market. Think… someone who doesn’t buy Xmas presents on principle). And so I was acting a little anti-consumerism.
My normal gift recipients were stoked, I’m sure.
* * *
By nature, I’m a hoarder. Not necessarily of things, but of ideas. And under normal circumstances, it is this collection of abstractions from which I would give — “this idea reminds me of this person, so I’m inspired to give him/her a Whatever,” right?
What you give is a reflection of what is inside of you.
But I think amidst all of this change I felt a little paralyzed at the close of this year. I’ve been letting go of so much, I’m feeling a little blissfully empty — what do I possbily have to give? I feel almost idea-less, but in a good way — clean. I simply couldn’t bring myself to give anything worthy of what I’ve been getting. I’ve been receiving so much inspiration, guidance and insight lately, that I feel as if I’m stumbling through life with a stupid smile on my face; I’m a little drunk on life’s liquor, yet somehow remarkably sturdy, weaving around universal corners on which stand mumbling strangers who, when I sober up to listen, always seem to have something incredibly important to tell me, show me, teach me.
And always I want to cling on to these experiences and pin them down like butterflies to admire their beauty, to write about each one in florid details, to be able to analyze and study and understand every intricate detail and what each means – how lovely each gift!
But as soon as I think I have my hands on one, I open up my palms to have a look, there is nothing, and I am dumbfounded, and I feel as if I am left with nothing tangible. So on I go, my glasses askew, empty handed, that silly smile, a sideways step, some loopy whistle streaming from my lips…
…So I’m at a loss here. I wanted to write some really wonderful Christmas post for you, update the design a little, maybe even upload a cool holiday photo. But I don’t even have a cute little wrap up to this narrative. I have no sparkly red ribbon to tie in a perfect bow at the top of this gift. All I have to give is my Thanks to all of you who chose to follow along and read Not Keeping Score as I stumble on down the road.
And a Thank You, also, for my number one favorite Christmas present:
#1: An audience (that’s You) who continues to bear witness, beyond all good judgment, and for reasons still unfathomable, to the bumblings of one, silly, little writer girl