How to Like Christmas

Saturday, November 19^th, 11:40am, 2016

Somewhere in the West of Ireland

Dear Reader,

Anything linked with the U.S election has no place in this space designed for writing (mainly) about writing, preferably with tea and maybe even a chocolate biscuit nearby.

That said, in a Madame Mayreed fashion, I must briefly address what’s badgering my mind (like always).

-It’s the collective sigh that has spanned over all classrooms this week any time a college professor has mentioned the election; Sighing because we’ve talked about it from all corners, upside down, and hypothetically at this point

and please,

I just want to go to my Irish folklore class to learn about fairies.

But,

the truth still stands so I’ll address it solely with a quote that was brought to our attention in French class, from the book ‘Meurtres Pour Mémoire’ by Didier Daeninckx;

When we forget the past, we’re condemned to relive it.

Yes.

So,

now as I try not to think about the election, I’m led to think about the latter of the two plagues that has swarmed its way through Facebook this November;

Christmas!

     Aha but I said I’d be positive today. Positivity is on its way in this post; I swear it on the darkest winter cloud, because clouds change their colours and so will my temperament. Hopefully by the end of today’s writings, I will optimistically veer back to my true spring self, as will you, if you find yourself in the same boat as me.

     This boat, that is barely kept above water in the season of two juxtaposing words – Christmas Exams; they rain over us too early; Heavy words of hissing X sounds like a snake in the grass, and sometimes, exam season casts a dark shadow that holds actual Christmas hostage, and it doesn’t release the festivities until Christmas day is practically gone, and no one knows where it gallivanted off to.

     It’s like when someone asks you; ‘How does it feel to be <insert age here>?’ on your birthday, when you don’t feel a day older, let alone a year.

I, being of sound body and mind, can sometimes be a Scrooge too. So if like me, you enjoy everything that comes with the build up to Christmas; the bells, the music, the lights, the mulled wine, etc. and yet you still experience what I like to call regular Christmas displacement; Keeping a Halloween themed photo as your profile picture on social media late into November, cursing the cold on a daily basis (Bah Humbug), scowling at the early arrival of Christmas decorations in shops… Well, then that’s great, let’s try to like Christmas together.

Such instruction should probably be reserved for an expert in this field, but hey, maybe my hypocrisy will act as the catalyst in the return of my spring self and everything will be all daffodils and lambs before we know it.

Positivity - *Activate!*

How does one go about liking Christmas?

Like this:

1)  

Boredom over Christmas break will lead to the realisation that you haven’t had time to feel bored since last Christmas, and for this time, you will feel blessed.

Feeling oddly dissatisfied with the lull that follows the exam adrenaline can only mean that you really worked hard this semester,

even on days when you sat outside the library rather than inside; a coffee in hand, watching your red lipstick stain the lid of the cup, because red was your favourite colour and you liked to see it sparkle under the sunlight; tearing your mind away from the work load during your break on winter’s rare sunny days.

And even though that break turned into more little breaks, you still didn’t waste the semester,

because you caught a moment and used it; smiling at the mundane made magical.

Maybe that was what was needed to stay level-headed.

Maybe that was the incentive that was needed in order to glue yourself to your laptop for two days straight, writing a French essay on Joan of Arc.

And maybe now during Christmas, it will irritate you that you still speak so gracefully and unlike your colloquial self, like, someone from the nineteenth century. That said, one must remember that such rich language evokes the effort you put into your work this semester. (Yes, one should.)

So now, in the words of Kings of Leon (my favourite band ever)

-    ‘Take the time to waste a moment’

because this Christmas, you deserve it.

2)  

    

     Christmas approaching means that ‘The Sound of Music’ will be on television, and the very thought will force your hands to clap together and your cheeks to redden.

You will react as you always do every year;

Wishing that you could just be Julie Andrews so that it would be socially acceptable to burst into song in every situation;

Loving and relating to her character who doesn’t always get things right the first time, but who always wants to see the fun in everything;

Singing about your favourite things when the road outside is too icy to commute anywhere, and instantly feeling better with a jaw that aches from smiling.

3)  

Christmas will allow you to reminisce about the past days of freedom; That enchanted day reserved for finishing a final exam or leaving work to go home for Christmas or summer.

Like,

When your Science teacher from secondary school gave your class the day off and invited you all to roast marshmallows over Bunsen burners.

Or the time you finished your summer exams and went to your friends’ house for Chinese food and to watch ‘Zoolander’. You then hopped straight onto a plane to Florence and discovered how much you loved Italy.

Or there was last Christmas break, when you got off work early in Paris and went to Disneyland with your cousins; Passing a co-worker in the hallway on the way out to whom you sang;

‘I’m going to Disneyland with my cousins!!’,

to which he replied;

‘Oh wow! Are they very little?’

Nope, they were all in their twenties, like yourself.

You shook with excitement at the thought of going to Disneyland; Shaking too because of the cold, but that didn’t bother any of you that much.

You lived to tell the tale after the tower of terror ride broke down while you were on it.

You laughed under a clanging bell that beckoned the fake bubble-snow that fell all around you.

You ran delightedly through long corridors when there was no queue for Space Mountain,

and each and every one of you slept pleasantly on the train back towards St. Michel, because you’d shared a day that brought back childhood memories of afternoons spent playing Hide and Seek in the garden.

Smile now,

in anticipation of that feeling you will get, once you get your Christmas holidays this year.

4)  

                When trying to like Christmas, it is best to surround yourself with people who incessantly adore Christmas and everything about it, even if it is just to compare your thoughts with one another. (out of interest, and not for the sake of a real argument)

Just like the time you conducted a debate with a class of students in Paris about the existence of Santa Clause;

Except that it was more like a rap battle at the end of the day, based on the persuasive style of the Freedom speech from ‘Braveheart’.

The intensity and hilarity of the ordeal added to your Christmas cheer; Beaming at the idea of such silliness coming from your family that Christmas.

     This year (and luckily) a lot of your friends in Ireland seem to be obsessed with Christmas too.

Even if you can’t mimic the highest degree of their enthusiasm, it will warm your heart to hear them counting down the days,

because hearing a friend talk about what makes them happy, leaves you jovially in the company of someone so expressive.

5)  

Writing.

Christmas will present you with so much time to write, or to do whatever it is you love to do that time doesn’t always allow.

-   Meeting up with the friend you said you would meet up with months ago but didn’t, and considering turning such a meeting into a black tie event because both of you are so proud of yourselves for actually organising a time to have coffee.

-   Listening to the birds and seeing the light touch your garden in the morning at a time when you normally would never be at home.

-   Indulging in tea and ‘The Oxford Book of Christmas Poems’ that still comes down from the attic every single year since Santa Clause brought it in 2001. (If you haven’t read it, then I really think you should. My voice raises an octave when I talk about it because I love it so much)

How often have you heard a student friend of yours say that they can’t remember the last time they read a book for fun?

Well,

Christmas is coming.

*

Who knows if I will ever submerge myself fully in Christmas cheer, but now I appreciate the festive season for what it is, and I hope you will too.

I swore that I would.

I swore it on the darkest winter cloud, because clouds change their colours and so has my temperament.

I could swear it now, on November’s super moon; A spirit shining bigger and brighter now, than it has shone in years.

Ah, but didn’t Shakespeare say not to swear on the moon but to swear on thy self? Of course I am now referencing a source and sounding like an essay again, but it all amounts to proof of hard work even if it does make me grimace. Henceforth

So, Shakespeare says not to swear on the moon because the moon is always changing and thus so will your promise. Did I really just say thus

It is enough to swear by myself, and you can too,

to say that we like Christmas,

even if it takes a while for us to comprehend the whole thing.

See, I can be Christmassy when I want to! ;-P

Ciao,

Madame Mayreed x

Why I Write

Monday, November 7th, 10pm, 2016, Somewhere in the West of Ireland.

Dear Reader,

How ironic it is that I sit here staring at a blinking cursor and a blank page, with no idea how to put it all into words.

Why do I write?

Well, today I write for therapy; because I missed my bus home, and before that, I cut my tongue on a lollipop in French class. I didn’t know that was possible, or that it should have been something to look out for and to possibly avoid; but if I’d feared cutting my tongue on lollipops before, then I might as well have been afraid of getting a papercut from a pair of socks.

Well, maybe that’s what I get for eating in class.

And maybe I’m not writing today because of the bus or the lollipop, but because they collectively acted as the straw that broke the camel’s back in a desert made of college essays. And maybe it’s more fun to melodramatically describe such incidents than it is to write about this featureless wasteland.

Uuuhh I sigh to the sound of myself,

because really

in the grand scheme of things,

I write,

because at passionate times like these when I write about writing, my prose becomes a

poem,

in free verse,

because oftentimes I want every word to hold merit; for each word to stand on its

own.

I write,

because every character embodies how much I love people, like the little girl with the x shaped scar on her forehead and the pink-haired imaginary friend. I adopt the mannerisms of life-long friends and people passing by me in real day to day life; Grimace-turned-smiles and flamboyant hand gestures painted to the page from my hand to create a real character, even if it’s a mongrel breed of my niece’s smile and a cool hat I saw a guy wear in the street.

Still, this hypothetical character could be real,

so then, I can imagine them in countless situations. I get to know them.

I pity their weaknesses and love them for their flaws.

I know them now from the inside out; so then if ever I’m craving pasta at midnight, I can’t help but think that Laoise, the protagonist of my play, would really get at me to look after myself more and not to eat carbohydrates at such a late hour of the night.

And then,

if I’m chatting with a friend in a café and I say something obscure and funny before realising that it was something a character of mine had said before, I will make sure not to take credit for it, because it was my character who said that, and not me.

And it’s now that I ask myself why?

-          Why wouldn’t I write?

A fictional child character of mine turned eight on October 29^th of this year, and back in April I cried to my Mam on the phone because I was mourning my characters after having finished my their first draft.

And hell yeah, I’m aware that the entire ordeal sounds hella crazy,

But,

I write

because I created characters, worlds, and people who could be real from absolutely

nothing;

Stories came from the cool hat I saw a guy wear in the street; a poem evolved from the realisation that I really like ‘Z’ sounds; A protagonist sprang from a single word scribbled onto a napkin in a café, that over time, turned into a one act play.

Those possibilities that hang from a pen when I bring it to paper are tainted with the most amazing feeling. It’s like the warmth of my fingertips when holding a cup of moroccan tea; the world is literally in my hands and I can morph it into anything I want.

All because of one little light bulb idea moment – One little song getting lodged in my head and inspiring a novel, all in one day.

I write,

because I like the feeling, and I’m grateful that I like the feeling because for me, writing is not a choice.

It has just always been what I have to do, and exactly what I need.

So yes,

Maybe I wrote today because I needed the therapy, because I missed my bus home and I cut my tongue on a lollipop – the straw that broke the camel’s back in a desert made of college essays. But maybe I wrote because I missed writing and you know,

Words,

They’re pretty cool at the best of times. ;)

Ciao,

Madame Mayreed.