Thursday, December 24, 2009
The Dilemma of Gift-Giving
The sixth article for my opinion column ("Small Action, Big Change") in The Badger.
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Oh yes, it is that time of year. Holiday promotions and decorations started going up in stores in late October this year, next to the scary costume displays. For some people, it is time to go into temporary debt in order to buy more than enough food and presents. For others, it is time to feel guilty about not being able to buy enough. For yet others, it is time to procrastinate and wait until the last minute to run and just buy something for people to whom they feel obligated. For others who have this time of year well-organized completed their shopping months ago and it is simply time to turn on festive music, decorate the house, and enjoy a cup of cocoa as they casually sit down to wrap the perfect gifts. I have been in all of the categories except the latter!
In the past, I have gone completely overboard during this time of year. At 19, I spent $800 on gifts at a retail clothing store, and that was after my 30% employee discount. One year, I did a holiday gift “treasure hunt” for my boyfriend with hint-notes around his apartment, leading him to presents. Some Decembers, the presents pile under our family tree was overflowing, taking hours to open them all. At some point, I began to reflect on my gift-giving and receiving priorities. I got a lot of enjoyment out of giving gifts; I just could not sustain the exponential pattern developing. I realized many of the gifts I had bought and received were sitting forgotten on a shelf or in a closet. Pondering the balance between thoughtfulness and wrapping stuff in pretty paper, I started to feel the way I had been doing things was too shallow and wasteful. I had to consider other ways of gift-giving.
My attempts have generally failed. The first year I tried to do homemade gifts was a huge flop. I made what I thought was beautiful stationary for one person; a few years later, they re-gifted it to me. That same year, I tried to make a real leather wallet for my brother that ended up looking like a camp craft project gone wrong. The following year, I made and delivered cookies but I am so inept in the kitchen that it took far more time than I had available; I could spend only a few minutes at each house. One year I drew pictures but inevitably felt rushed to complete the artwork as the season arrived. I did not even get to frame them. Last year, I gave homemade “certificates” to family members and a few close friends, each redeemable for one course at a community college of their choice. Everyone said they thought it was a great idea and named classes they would like to take. A year later, not a single person has cashed in their certificate.
When I began grappling with my own gift-giving values, I asked others to consider not giving me gifts or at least giving me less, not just during the holidays but for my birthday as well. I am an unintentional hoarder and tend to be a magnet for stuff, no matter how many boxes I send to the thrift shop. For some people, the notion of not giving gifts is neither possible nor desirable. My family and friends have made a noticeable effort with my requests. One of my dearest friends, Cana, has always been a gifted giver. She is the person that sends a follow-up note after casual get-togethers. One year, she painted a beautiful acrylic painting of a tarantula with a Gerber daisy, two of my favorite things. She collected coupons to a home supply store when I bought a house and arranged a trip to a Serpentarium (it is exactly what it sounds like) for my birthday this year. Not everyone can be Cana, though… especially me. I have to be purposefully thoughtful and time management or planning ahead are just not my fortes.
I do not know what the right response is to what the holidays have become; that answer will be different for every person. I think most people can agree that emphasis on the sentiment of the season is preferable to the feeling of obligation to spend outrageous amounts of money on temporal things. There is a viral video going around by Advent Conspiracy, challenging people to think about this time of year in a different way. The video claims that "Americans spend $450 billion on Christmas EVERY YEAR... lack of clean water kills more people every day than anything else and… the estimated cost to make clean water available to everyone is $10 billion." Just another perspective, as I consider yet again what in the world I am going to give this year…
What does gift-giving mean to you? What has been your experience with alternative gift-giving? Join the conversation on the Badger forums.
===================
Oh yes, it is that time of year. Holiday promotions and decorations started going up in stores in late October this year, next to the scary costume displays. For some people, it is time to go into temporary debt in order to buy more than enough food and presents. For others, it is time to feel guilty about not being able to buy enough. For yet others, it is time to procrastinate and wait until the last minute to run and just buy something for people to whom they feel obligated. For others who have this time of year well-organized completed their shopping months ago and it is simply time to turn on festive music, decorate the house, and enjoy a cup of cocoa as they casually sit down to wrap the perfect gifts. I have been in all of the categories except the latter!
In the past, I have gone completely overboard during this time of year. At 19, I spent $800 on gifts at a retail clothing store, and that was after my 30% employee discount. One year, I did a holiday gift “treasure hunt” for my boyfriend with hint-notes around his apartment, leading him to presents. Some Decembers, the presents pile under our family tree was overflowing, taking hours to open them all. At some point, I began to reflect on my gift-giving and receiving priorities. I got a lot of enjoyment out of giving gifts; I just could not sustain the exponential pattern developing. I realized many of the gifts I had bought and received were sitting forgotten on a shelf or in a closet. Pondering the balance between thoughtfulness and wrapping stuff in pretty paper, I started to feel the way I had been doing things was too shallow and wasteful. I had to consider other ways of gift-giving.
My attempts have generally failed. The first year I tried to do homemade gifts was a huge flop. I made what I thought was beautiful stationary for one person; a few years later, they re-gifted it to me. That same year, I tried to make a real leather wallet for my brother that ended up looking like a camp craft project gone wrong. The following year, I made and delivered cookies but I am so inept in the kitchen that it took far more time than I had available; I could spend only a few minutes at each house. One year I drew pictures but inevitably felt rushed to complete the artwork as the season arrived. I did not even get to frame them. Last year, I gave homemade “certificates” to family members and a few close friends, each redeemable for one course at a community college of their choice. Everyone said they thought it was a great idea and named classes they would like to take. A year later, not a single person has cashed in their certificate.
When I began grappling with my own gift-giving values, I asked others to consider not giving me gifts or at least giving me less, not just during the holidays but for my birthday as well. I am an unintentional hoarder and tend to be a magnet for stuff, no matter how many boxes I send to the thrift shop. For some people, the notion of not giving gifts is neither possible nor desirable. My family and friends have made a noticeable effort with my requests. One of my dearest friends, Cana, has always been a gifted giver. She is the person that sends a follow-up note after casual get-togethers. One year, she painted a beautiful acrylic painting of a tarantula with a Gerber daisy, two of my favorite things. She collected coupons to a home supply store when I bought a house and arranged a trip to a Serpentarium (it is exactly what it sounds like) for my birthday this year. Not everyone can be Cana, though… especially me. I have to be purposefully thoughtful and time management or planning ahead are just not my fortes.
I do not know what the right response is to what the holidays have become; that answer will be different for every person. I think most people can agree that emphasis on the sentiment of the season is preferable to the feeling of obligation to spend outrageous amounts of money on temporal things. There is a viral video going around by Advent Conspiracy, challenging people to think about this time of year in a different way. The video claims that "Americans spend $450 billion on Christmas EVERY YEAR... lack of clean water kills more people every day than anything else and… the estimated cost to make clean water available to everyone is $10 billion." Just another perspective, as I consider yet again what in the world I am going to give this year…
What does gift-giving mean to you? What has been your experience with alternative gift-giving? Join the conversation on the Badger forums.
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
Why I Skipped My High School Reunion
The fifth article for my opinion column ("Small Action, Big Change") in The Badger.
===================
I am from a small town in North Carolina and live ten minutes away from the house in which I grew up. A week ago, my high school had a 10-year reunion for the Class of 1999. I liked much of high school and have many good memories, but… I didn’t go. It was not a decision I made overnight. Up until that evening, I was unsure of whether I wanted to go and unable to pin down the source of my apprehensions.
Maybe it was because Facebook sufficiently satiates my curiosity about most of my former classmates. I admit I love reading about amazing things people are doing with their lives, even those I didn’t know well. However, the prospect of multiple uncomfortable chitchats about how-life-is with acquaintances who wrote "Have a nice summer!" or "You and _____ were such a cute couple! Sorry it didn't work out!" in my yearbook just isn't that appealing. I have not kept in close touch with many classmates but a reunion is a less than ideal place to catch up in a meaningful way.
Maybe I didn't want to pretend to enjoy a laugh at my expense while people I have known since elementary school jokingly reminisce about how nerdy, sheltered, weird, or goody-two-shoes I was. Maybe I would rather not have to give a polite we're-both-grown-ups-now smile to the former soccer teammate who hooked up with my boyfriend at a party I wasn't allowed to attend. Maybe I didn't want to explain why my life seems five years behind where it "should" be, according to my hometown's standards. Maybe I didn't want to be asked for the eight hundred and fifty-sixth time why my boyfriend Shaun and I have not yet chosen to get married.
Maybe it was because I did not want to walk in the door and feel all over again what it's like not to belong. I dread situations in which I have to wander around in search of a place to stand or sit. I never did fit in with any one group—and I still don't—but growing up, I had always felt good about being friendly with everyone and not feeling limited to a particular “type” of friend. At social gatherings, though, I see the value in belonging, in knowing with certainty that some people would be genuinely happy to see me. Some things never change, though. I am still the odd one out at work. At staff meetings, I stand at the back of the room avoiding awkward seat-hunting. Looking back, I know I did the same thing in high school. I often went to the computer lab for lunch, averting rejection and food.
Maybe it’s because I have an immature streak and what people think of me, at times, paralyzes me with insecurity. I realize it's tradition but whoever picked the day after Thanksgiving (U.S.) for a get-together with people you haven't seen since you were teenagers must have been playing a cruel joke. Mercifully, I did not gain weight after the feast this year, thanks to a walk around the neighborhood and a 12 hour nap. That's no small miracle considering my mom's corn casserole recipe calls for an entire stick of butter! Nevertheless, at a size 6, I am still literally 50 pounds heavier than I was in 1999.
I can imagine the "Wow, she’s let herself go" whispers from the same people who used to say, "Ohmigod! You're so skinny, I hate you!" What they did not know was that my loud, bubbly, skinny teenage self was quietly succumbing to anorexia, anxiety and depression. Hospitalized twice my senior year, I barely survived, much less graduated with the Class of '99. College was then a roller coaster of emotion and crisis as I battled my self-destructiveness and my tendency towards eating disorders threw me literally 100 pounds in the other direction on the scale. It's all too long of a story to explain during small talk at a noisy pub, and a partial telling of what happened leaves me sounding like the hostess of a Pity Party for one. I know this from experience so I'll spare you for now and save the details for my memoirs.
I’ll just divulge the happy ending. After many years of hard work on my part, with loving support from my family and Shaun, I am at a secure, happy and stable place in my life. I'm not living a glamorous, adventurous or traditional life but I chose this life I am living. Maybe the wounds are still too fresh. Whatever the reason, I stayed home, ate dinner with Shaun, read a book, and went to bed on time. Five or ten years from now, I might reconsider the reunion idea. Maybe.
===================
I am from a small town in North Carolina and live ten minutes away from the house in which I grew up. A week ago, my high school had a 10-year reunion for the Class of 1999. I liked much of high school and have many good memories, but… I didn’t go. It was not a decision I made overnight. Up until that evening, I was unsure of whether I wanted to go and unable to pin down the source of my apprehensions.
Maybe it was because Facebook sufficiently satiates my curiosity about most of my former classmates. I admit I love reading about amazing things people are doing with their lives, even those I didn’t know well. However, the prospect of multiple uncomfortable chitchats about how-life-is with acquaintances who wrote "Have a nice summer!" or "You and _____ were such a cute couple! Sorry it didn't work out!" in my yearbook just isn't that appealing. I have not kept in close touch with many classmates but a reunion is a less than ideal place to catch up in a meaningful way.
Maybe I didn't want to pretend to enjoy a laugh at my expense while people I have known since elementary school jokingly reminisce about how nerdy, sheltered, weird, or goody-two-shoes I was. Maybe I would rather not have to give a polite we're-both-grown-ups-now smile to the former soccer teammate who hooked up with my boyfriend at a party I wasn't allowed to attend. Maybe I didn't want to explain why my life seems five years behind where it "should" be, according to my hometown's standards. Maybe I didn't want to be asked for the eight hundred and fifty-sixth time why my boyfriend Shaun and I have not yet chosen to get married.
Maybe it was because I did not want to walk in the door and feel all over again what it's like not to belong. I dread situations in which I have to wander around in search of a place to stand or sit. I never did fit in with any one group—and I still don't—but growing up, I had always felt good about being friendly with everyone and not feeling limited to a particular “type” of friend. At social gatherings, though, I see the value in belonging, in knowing with certainty that some people would be genuinely happy to see me. Some things never change, though. I am still the odd one out at work. At staff meetings, I stand at the back of the room avoiding awkward seat-hunting. Looking back, I know I did the same thing in high school. I often went to the computer lab for lunch, averting rejection and food.
Maybe it’s because I have an immature streak and what people think of me, at times, paralyzes me with insecurity. I realize it's tradition but whoever picked the day after Thanksgiving (U.S.) for a get-together with people you haven't seen since you were teenagers must have been playing a cruel joke. Mercifully, I did not gain weight after the feast this year, thanks to a walk around the neighborhood and a 12 hour nap. That's no small miracle considering my mom's corn casserole recipe calls for an entire stick of butter! Nevertheless, at a size 6, I am still literally 50 pounds heavier than I was in 1999.
I can imagine the "Wow, she’s let herself go" whispers from the same people who used to say, "Ohmigod! You're so skinny, I hate you!" What they did not know was that my loud, bubbly, skinny teenage self was quietly succumbing to anorexia, anxiety and depression. Hospitalized twice my senior year, I barely survived, much less graduated with the Class of '99. College was then a roller coaster of emotion and crisis as I battled my self-destructiveness and my tendency towards eating disorders threw me literally 100 pounds in the other direction on the scale. It's all too long of a story to explain during small talk at a noisy pub, and a partial telling of what happened leaves me sounding like the hostess of a Pity Party for one. I know this from experience so I'll spare you for now and save the details for my memoirs.
I’ll just divulge the happy ending. After many years of hard work on my part, with loving support from my family and Shaun, I am at a secure, happy and stable place in my life. I'm not living a glamorous, adventurous or traditional life but I chose this life I am living. Maybe the wounds are still too fresh. Whatever the reason, I stayed home, ate dinner with Shaun, read a book, and went to bed on time. Five or ten years from now, I might reconsider the reunion idea. Maybe.
