With each passing Christmas, I learn something new about what I love about it. I inevitably feel a nostalgic sort of sadness, the kind that makes you thankful for each year that's passed, but wistful for the memories they hold.
As I shuffle about the house tonight and settle in with my laptop and a glass of ginger ale, I realized what I love most about Christmas is the clutter of living.
There is food on the counter to be eaten and shared with family and friends.
There are pillows, blankets, and other paraphernalia strewn about. Stockings draped on the couch. Stacks of movies and CD's to be enjoyed during our Christmas celebrations.
The clutter of life.
I am a little bit too organized.
A little too efficient at times.
Everything in its right place.
Even now as I look at the previous three lines, I see evidence of my obsessive-compulsive orderliness.
I nearly had an anuerism when I spilled tea on my pristine collection of DVD's earlier this year.
Just last week I chipped my iPhone screen while carrying too much.
All of this frustrates me and reminds me that I am not in control. I can take every effort at safety and protection, but somewhere in the act of living, the variables change and something is subjected to entropy and my human flaws.
A friend once told me when I dinged my drumset just days after receiving them "Scratches add character."
This now reminds me of one of my favourite musicians and songwriters, Glen Hansard.
I saw him a few months back at the Vogue Theatre on Granville, and I must say, for a man with a guitar in such poor shape, he sure can create some beautiful music.
I don't look at him any differently because he uses a tarnished instrument, especially with such awesome sounds coming out of it.
I don't wonder if he is careless with his things. In fact, I laud him for it. This man is really living, damn it!
The feelings I get when this happens to my things is one of regret - I should have been more careful! It would be in better condition!
But as Kevin McCallister said on Home Alone 2, if you leave your rollerblades in the box so you don't scratch them up, you'll eventually outgrow them and never have gotten to enjoy rollerblading in the first place.
Basically, if you'll never risk wrecking something, how can you ever enjoy anything?
So I look at my scratched phone. And my wrinkled DVD's. And my banged-up instruments.
And I realize that I am living.
I think I might just keep my Christmas clutter around a little longer this year.
