Sitka or Bust: Commute The World

Some have an affinity for present-giving. I, it would seem, do not possess such a trait. So holiday shopping has always been a torment, not only to see the miniscule funds of my bank account circle the drain, but also because I know I’m most likely giving something that the gift-receiver neither needs nor wants. Years of funny movies and entire dvd series for my brother would generally prove my point. I know you’ve never purposefully chosen to turn on the television in your ENTIRE life; here, let me give you an entire first season of Deadliest Catch. Sure, it’s a topic that my brother seems to enjoy talking about, but for the guy-who-does-rather-than-watches-being-done its pretty much a pipe dream gift. Please, enjoy the countless hours of footage of people out in the world fishing for crab, forego your own hunting to watch others succeed in their own pursuits. You. Are. Welcome.

What I had my heart set on for Christmas.

Now, because I’m a book fiend myself, I really should stick to gifting my closest friends and relatives with words. Unfortunately, none have the time and few have even the slightest desire to put time into reading. I’m honestly surprised at the time they spend reading my blog. Perhaps its the pictures. Or my biting snark.

This year, I was privileged to have ideas for everyone I buy for. And by that, I mean everyone I would buy for added to the people my brother should buy for. So realistically, I had to come up with twice the ideas in order to fuel two people’s Christmas lists. And Big Brother, as successful as this year turned out, you should probably start jotting down ideas well in advance for next year.  I’m so glad you bought me pomegranates though, they are delicious and stain my fingers like I’m a serial killer/cave=dwelling finger painter. But I digress.

Maybe its my track record that has knocked my gifting esteem to rock-bottom, but as proud as I was for finishing my shopping early and without scrambling for lame last-minute ideas, the feeling did not last. I, like many Web MD users, have chosen to diagnose myself with as many ailments as the world can contain. No matter the fact that I’ve never been to the jungles of Vietnam, I am clearly suffering from some tropical disease at least 40% of the time. If only there was a diagnosis for gifting-anxiety. I can not be the ONLY case of this. Symptoms include: escalating nervous jitters in regards to gift exchanges, feverish wrapping and unwrapping only to wrap once more, paper cuts, tape-sensitive skin, nail-biting, inner struggles of gift cards versus actual cards, etc.

For those of you who don’t know, my brother and I graduated from college this year. No. We are not twins, I am just extremely gifted. Anyways, I thought a nice frame with our professional graduation pictures and a picture of us on the first day of elementary school would be excellent. I was just stoked about this idea for weeks. Then, Christmas comes closer and closer and all I start to think things like this: Gah, how narcissistic. They gave me pictures of themselves. Surprised that ego fit through the door. That frame is the wrong color. It will not match my decor. Why’d those pictures get chosen? Gee, thanks….

Gifting-anxiety. It happens to me. Please don’t let this tale go untold. If I could suffer from this ailment, many others go undiagnosed every day. Birthdays, Bar Mitzvahs, Anniversaries. I implore you, don’t let your voice go unheard. Look at the face of the girl in that picture and tell me that you want anyone else to suffer like that.