I remember when I was in elementary school and I would look forward to Christmas all through the first semester. There was always a boatload of stuff that I would want. I would have a nice long list, chock full of predictable things like a Red Ryder Ranger Model Air Rifle. Now in my old age of 19, I never really want anything for Christmas.
I have slowly encountered a complete reversal in what I appreciate about Christmas. I love spending quality time with my family and relatives, but it’s just the materialistic nature of Christmas that plagues my brain. Despite my newfound grievances, I have managed to cull an incredible message from Christmas: the importance of family and friends, and the unimportance of money and possessions.
Whenever I receive a gift card, I am shackled with debilitating, all-consuming mental strictures. There is something like an evil troll in my brain, screaming at me, “You better spend every last penny on that gift card within a 24-hour time frame, otherwise I will suffocate you in your sleep!” Whereas my previous 11 months of that given year were free of any pressing need for material possessions, I suddenly have all this money to spend.
The reality is, I was happier when my brain wasn’t consumed with mind games where I weigh what complete waste-of-money item I want to buy more-a miniature glow-in-the-dark bonsai tree or a fog machine?
Everyone believes that clothes are a safe gift, assuming the recipient of the article of clothing has passed the “I don’t want clothes for Christmas” stage. Potentially, your mom could accidentally buy you pants that are too tight-but that’s actually a blessing in disguise, because tight pants are all the rage right now, even for guys. Even though I enjoy having clothes and I am grateful for having a modest collection to choose from, clothes are merely another burden that congests the highway of my mind.
Normally, my mind is kind of like a highway in Iowa, but clothes make my mind like a highway in Chicago during rush hour. I prefer having fewer clothes, an amount large enough so people don’t notice me wearing the same thing too often, but small enough that I don’t have to waste 20 minutes staring at the mirror every morning testing out the infinite pants-and-shirt combinations. Clothes introduce self-conscious feelings into my mind, as I feel like I need to be sure they fit me. If you’re like me, people will notice your new clothes, which is pretty pathetic.
Consequently, in a worst-case scenario, someone might say, “Hey Nick, new threads there, eh dude?” and in my self-conscious response I’ll say, “Yeah, my mom got them for me for Christmas. Do they look styling and profiling?” and he’ll say “No. Not at all. They actually look horrible on you.” So, new clothes are kind of a risk in that you could potentially encounter the said situation, and you will at least waste more time contemplating what you want to wear.
Christmas has taught me that money is not all that it’s cracked up to be. I am referring to my future income, as in the sum total of money I will be making every year once I’m out of college and have a job. I’ve always thought I wanted to be a millionaire, but I am starting to realize that I would probably be extremely depressed if I had a million dollars to spend every year. I can barely stand having the burden of spending a couple hundred from Christmas gift cards.
Think about it: Most college students have a miniscule amount of money to spend-it’s common knowledge. At the same time, most people view college as one of the greatest periods of their life. Coincidence? I think not. At least in my personal experience, I’ve become removed from the thought of money when I am in college because I basically have none. Thus, I don’t spend any time thinking of material possessions, and I don’t become a product of the American commercial machine that is brainwashing and ruining the lives of many people. Instead, I feel an overbearing happiness from something money could never buy:the company of others.
Nick Otto is a freshman in the College of Arts and Sciences.
