“Friday night lights twinkle brighter because we see them through an idealized lens created by excessive inebriation.”
It’s funny how things change when we get older. And by change I mean everything. And by older I mean past 20s. I remember thinking about Christmas like it was a Friday night. It was all hazy and warm, and I was with my friends until all hours enjoying them, but maybe not remembering it in the morning. And no matter how much money I had with me to start the evening it would all be gone by the time I came to, all groggy on someone’s seedy couch.
It was Friday night because that’s when I was the most selfish, when I didn’t care about pretty much anyone else, just my own desires. If I wanted to shop for CDs all night that’s what I did, and I used money I shouldn’t have to buy as many as I could. If I wanted to go to a club (or 10) then I did it, buying drinks that I probably shouldn’t have bought, and then buying some more. It was hedonistic at its base, and I was deliriously happy on those Friday nights, but the Saturday mornings caught up with me. They always did, but somehow I would conveniently forget each week.
Christmas used to be a series of “YESses” and “NOs” all tumbled together and shaken out to dry. Did I want a computer? Sure. Did I want clothes? Not a chance. Even though I always needed clothes back then, and even though I often wore the same pants three times in a week because I had nothing else. But my CD collection was the envy of the neighborhood. Priorities. I guess as I got older my priorities shifted to match where I was supposed to be on the evolutionary scale. Either that or I realized I was making absolutely no progress doing what I was doing. Maybe Christmas was really meant to be once a year, and not every Friday night. And maybe there was more to it than my patented responses.
And I don’t care about the Starbucks cup, but I am a little upset that they shut down all of the Tim Hortons nearby, because instead of getting drunk and buying myself stuff this Christmas all I want to do is wake up in the morning and brew myself a lovely cup of coffee. Seasons change. People change. I’ve changed. And Christmas like a Friday night is no longer something I find appealing. Now I want Christmas to be like a Sunday morning — easy.