The Christmas Post

As the clock struck midnight on Christmas Day, I was having the last few drags of my cigarette outside Superbowl in Marina South. It was a Davidoff Light, with half the filter cut off so it could fit in my cigarette case. I was fucking exhausted and about to fall asleep on my feet.



I don't think I ever believed in Santa Claus. It's kinda hard to when you live in an HDB flat and you read that Santa comes down chimneys. Since our window grilles were locked up when I was a kid, there was simply no way that I could envision him coming in and leaving presents. Anyway he never left presents; if I got any I knew for a fact that my parents had bought them because I'd seen them do it.

I don't know if Christmas was ever a very special day. We weren't Christians, so it was never a big deal. For a couple of years we had a little puny tree, about half a metre tall, made of shitty plastic, that we'd kind of try to decorate. It always looked sad, and we gave up after a while. The best thing was probably the presents, I guess. My aunt who was Christian and very generous to us kids always gave the best presents, because we'd go shopping together and she didn't seem to have a limit to her budget. She also never complained that the stuff we chose was useless, which it generally was, us being kids and all. I remember one year she brought me to a Christmas service. I was probably bored. I never went back.



After she got hitched, we'd go to her place for Christmas parties. Me, my brother and my cousins would just sit around all day and watch TV, pig out and play. Soon she had kids, and since they were mostly born around December, the Christmas party became their birthday parties. We got older, the new kids were too young and not much fun, and soon it became a yearly hassle. I'd go there, stay a few hours, and then leave early to go out with friends. She stopped giving us gifts because she didn't know what we wanted anymore, and we were too "busy" to go shopping with her. She just gave money instead.

In my teens, I really got into writing and sending Christmas cards for a few years. Buying a whole bunch of cheap-ass cards, writing individual greetings and mailing them became a ritual. It was almost an elaborate dance of sorts, as you figure out who sent you one the year before, who never sends cards in return, who sent you one this year so you have to send them one, and so on. And it was kinda like sorting through all your friends and acquaintances and filtering them, seeing who made the Top 40 (or however many cards you were sending out that year).



I forget when that stopped. Maybe it was when I was in the army. There was just no time anymore, and by then, Christmas had lost whatever little amount of magic it had. Possibly I'd grown cynical, overwhelmed by the crass commercialism it had become over the years. Looking back, it was probably this commercial all along, only I'd never realized it. December just became a month with good sales, so it was a good month to Consume and buy shit for myself. There were probably Christmas gatherings a couple of years before that with friends, where we exchanged little gifts. That stopped as well. The gift exchanges, I mean, not the meet-ups.

Christmas Eves, have, in general, been uneventful the last few years. Dinner in Chinatown, pool, karaoke, driving around. I can't honestly think of much else. It doesn't matter anyway. We're just hanging out because we don't want to be alone. Nothing more, nothing less.



Actually, I think I prefer it this way.

Christmas is just like any other day now, except for the fact it's a day that many people make a big fuss over. Honestly, what is the point of a countdown to X'Mas, if the day means nothing to you? As I finished my cigarette today, cheers and other merrymaking sounds filtered out through the glass doors of Superbowl. I turned away and sucked harder on the filter. It seemed incredibly apt. Someone who doesn't give a shit, standing outside smoking sullenly while other people cheered inside. I didn't feel sad, just apart from it all, which isn't necessarily a bad thing.



I've decided that from this year on, "I don't do Christmas" will be a mantra I follow around this season. I have not said "Merry Christmas" to anyone yet, and I don't intend to. So please don't think I'm rude or anything if I don't reply to your SMS or email. I've been deleting them all day, both from friends and from part-time actors from the sitcom I've been casting, and while I appreciate the thought, I no longer care. The most I've come to acknowledging greetings is when people say straight to my face, "Merry Christmas", and I say, "Same to you."



I don't find anything wrong with Christians thinking December 25 is a big deal. After all, it is their religion, and people can believe whatever the hell they want. I just have a problem with non-Christians viewing it as an Important Day. It really isn't, it's just a public holiday. A very commercial public holiday, probably the most blatantly commercial of them all.

Today we sat around and ate log cake, kueh, and ice cream in the studio while gossiping about local celebrities. It's fun to hear dirt about celebs from the mouths of other celebs. Who had an embarassing incident, who was trying to seduce whom, who was sleeping with whom. All good fun. And at night I went out with old friends. Nothing fancy, just people hanging out. I had a good time.



And that, I think, is all I can ask for, and all I ever want at this time of year. In fact, at any time of the year.