Life in Ink and Footsteps

I mentioned in the last post that I have about three pictures and barely anything written in the diary. But I think we can make it work. But it is so ridiculous. I was obsessing about my dating life in America while completely whirling through the most magical holidays. This also shows how often we take the little things for granted and do not concentrate on them. Although one might argue that celebrating Hanukkah for the first and last time might be a big enough event to pay some attention to, I just didn’t. Well, it is what it is, and thankfully, I do have some snippets that are now even more precious since I know they are the only ones.

Let’s talk about my American holidays, shall we? There is one thing that I thought was weird at first, but thirty seconds later I was charmed, and it became my favorite thing ever. What is it? The Christmas radio station. Nonstop carols, all day, every day? Sign me up! It was amazing and made me relaxed, which was deeply needed. Why? Because the days leading to the celebration were stressful and hectic. I saw firsthand how American capitalism works. Presents, presents, and presents everywhere. The mum from the family is a busy woman with a deep love for Amazon Prime, so our house was constantly overflowing with packages, which I volunteered to decorate and get ready for the festivities. Oh, how sweet I was and absolutely unprepared. When we celebrate at home, everyone gets about four or five presents, including the ones from grannies. So I, understandably and naively, thought that the first batch was all there was going to be. I was mistaken. I also didn’t take into account that there are four adults and four children. The parents were separated, each having a new partner, and of course, their four children from marriage, raging between the ages of 12 and 26. Oh, and little old me included. It was madness. I had never seen so many gifts. In the beginning, I tried my best to make everything pretty, but after I don’t know how many, I started to pack them in gift bags and be done with it. Yup.

So I did my normal day-to-day routine of caring for the youngest child: keeping him alive, fed, bathed, on top of his schoolwork, and somewhat happy—sadly, I wasn’t all that successful at that still. We were having a really hard time getting used to each other. It was so bad in the beginning that I barely ever mentioned it in my diary because it made me nauseous. Maybe that’s why I concentrated on the weekends and dating so much. Don’t get me wrong; we were both functioning and prospering, but there were not many warm feelings between us. Besides that, I was the right hand to the mum, which I loved. So much. I still do. She is such a wonderful woman. Honestly, I often felt more like her secretary and little helper than a nanny. The children were mostly self-sufficient at their age and didn’t want to hang out with me, which made sense. So I spent a lot of time helping the mum. I planned and organized, reminded her of things, packed presents, helped with all the cooking, and just chatted with this fascinating lady. That is how I remember all the holidays, not only Hanukkah, but also Passover, Rosh Hashanah, and the son’s Bar Mitzvah as well as many other smaller occasions. Cooking all the food, spending hours in her bedroom, and planning everything together. Those are such warm memories.

But back to this specific holiday. In 2016, the first night of Hanukkah was on Saturday, December 24th, just as we celebrate Christmas at home—yes, we celebrate on the night of the 24th, not the following morning. It was such a peculiar feeling: festive and still not; magical in a completely different way. Enjoying dinner and dessert we prepared together, watching the first candle being lit, the family saying prayers. No Christmas tree, obviously—possibly the weirdest thing. It was emotional. For the first time since that Czech girl fiasco and the following concert, I was truly homesick. But let’s not get all wishy-washy about it. It was mostly cool and wonderful, and I had a great time, ate good food, and got presents. I mean, what’s not to love?

One of my presents was a ticket to a basketball game with the family. They traditionally go together during the holidays. I do not remember if they always support this team or what since I do not care for sports. But going to a game for the first time was epic. It was a Nets vs. Hornets game at the Barclays Center. There were 18,000 people. I had never been in a crowd so big; it was overwhelming and exciting at the same time. To feel the vibrations, hear the screams and shouts, watching with suspense the progress of the game—truly intoxicating. Who won? I don’t know. I could Google it, the same way I Googled the history of pumpkin spice late a few entries prior, but how to say this? I do not give a fuck. You can look it up if it matters to you.

Oh, I also visited a Christmas party in a German-American household with the girlfriend of the father. She was so sweet to me—not much to the children, and they didn’t like her, but I didn’t mind. I thought she was a good person who just had no idea how to connect with kids. The party was better than the Thanksgiving: a lot of people and food. That is how I imagined the traditional American Christmas. It looked like a movie set: all red and green, overflowing with decorations and lights, and Christmas music; everyone was in their elegant clothing, chatting about politics, presents, parenting, and food, of course. The food was phenomenal. I loved it, even though, once again, I felt like a little animal in a zoo. But by this time, I was pretty used to it and just enjoyed the food. Harsh? Yeah, I know, and I still don’t care; I would do the same today as well.

And that, my dears, concludes the holidays. Oh, I had some terrible and awkward sex attempts in a car with my newly found love—Sir MagicalCarpetRide—but that is so sad and pathetic that there is truly nothing more to mention. Maybe only a prayer that I learned to stop excusing poor intimacy with my feelings to men while they just didn’t care. But I know that is useless since it took me several more years—yes, years—to learn that and start acting on it.

Happy Holidays to you! Whatever and whenever you are celebrating. And don’t forget to watch Home Alone.

I do not have a single carol on my top list, obviously. A few weeks of carols can’t compete with months and months of avid listening to other music. So I am, for the first time, sharing a song that is not on the list but is my all-time favorite.

Andrea Bocelli – God Bless Us Everyone