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Growing up Catholic, I was taught to always say my prayers after waking up, before eating, before doing something that may have major ramifications on my future, and before going to sleep. I was taught that sex should come after marriage and pictures of cleavage are evil. Evil! And of course, I was trained to think that Jesus is the reason for the season. Christmas is all about him. If Jesus and Santa Claus got into a fight, I should root for Jesus because all Santa can give me are broken promises and an image of him kissing all our mothers. Jesus, on the other hand, can save my soul. He can also turn water into wine, make fish and bread appear out of empty baskets, and walk on water. Beat that, fat boy.

The story changed when I got into college, where critical thinking is a way of life. The world suddenly became less mysterious. But it also became very confusing. Sometimes you just want to stop thinking about stuff. That’s why beer was invented. Sweet, sweet beer.

A quarter of my life is history. “Quarter”, provided that smoking doesn’t screw me over early. It’s a lot harder now to trust things that other people tell you. “Jesus is the reason for the season” becomes a hollow phrase. Makes you wonder what the real reason for the season is. Makes you wonder about a lot of other stuff you only think about when you’re drunk. Like what would it be like if you have your sex organ on your forehead.

What is the reason for the season?

Is it giving and receiving gifts? Stuff that you don’t really need but would look really cool on your desk. Stuff that you would buy for your significant other because he/she has been whining about not having it for the past two years.

Is it the overwhelming feeling of good will to all mankind? Peace and love and tranquility and good health and all that shit. Shiny happy people singing the same old tunes, dancing the same old stupid moves. Wishing all the best for people you hardly know because you’ve got unlimited text messaging.

Is it mending broken hearts, healing open wounds, and tending to injured souls? Is it reminiscing about the good old days? Is it forcing yourself to have hope that the coming new year will be better? Is it tradition and nothing else?

Whatever your reason for the season is, I hope you enjoy it. Actually, I hope you enjoy not just the season, but the whole year coming. Better yet, enjoy your whole life. Live it. Never mind all the pain and bullshit you encounter everyday. Blog about it, I say. You’ll be surprised how funny your emo blog entries will be when you read them again after a few months.

Whatever your reason for the season is, I’m sure it’s a good enough excuse for you to get fat and be happy with the things that have been right in front of you your whole life but have been unappreciated because there were no Christmas lights and Christmas carols in the background.

Me? I’ll stick with Jesus. Because he walks on water. And that’s wicked cool.

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