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My Name is Jeremy |
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Actually, nobody’s received a Christmas card from me over the last few years, because I don’t really have a good system of address keeping. I’d basically been keeping track of people by writing down their addresses on post-it notes, or on the corners of old phone bills, and in the case of at least one person, on the underside of a counter top. I’ve since moved from the place where I did that. This year, that’s changing. I’m rounding up a bunch of addresses I don’t have, and today, I’m going to sit down and write out Christmas cards to a good many people. Since there won’t be much of a surprise factor there (I had to email dozens of people or so to find out where they live), I’ve decided that each person who gets a card from me, will get a personal message. No “Happy Holidays from Jeremy” on the inside. Everyone will get a narrative of Christmas cheer and holiday love. That is, everyone who gets a card from me. There are six billion people on Earth. At this moment, I only have 15 cards. I’ll get more, but that’s not the point. The point is, on Friday, I decided to send out cards on the “My Name
is Earl” plan. If you haven’t seen the show, which wouldn’t surprise me (It’s on NBC), Earl is a dude who did a lot of bad or mean things to people all through his life. Then he wins the lottery. Then he gets hit by a car. Then he comes to this conclusion: the reason why bad stuff always happens to him, is because he’s been bad to others. So, now that he’s won the lottery, he sets out to fix all of the bad things he’s done to people. Once he’s done that, he crosses them off his list. The one-word-short-version of all that: karma. The show is very funny. And I like it ‘cause half of the cast is from Mallrats. Since I’ve moved to I’ve also rediscovered something else about people lately: they try to turn bad karma into good karma by saying “I’m just kidding.” Make a mean comment to somebody’s face, then buy it right back with “Dude, I’m just messing with ya!” It’s a very nice conversational disclaimer. For example... ok, this thing happened a few months ago and it’s something others think I should regret. I don’t. There’s really no point. Why regret and get upset about something that happened in the past, when you can’t change it now anyway? It’s like stubbing your toe. It hurts for a moment afterward. And you sit there, and you hold your toe, and you get pissed off at yourself for not giving your feet more clearance around the end table, and after a few minutes, provided your toe isn’t broken, it just kinda fades away into the background of your memory. Until others bring it up. And they hound you about it. But dude, they're just messin' with ya. You’re not as embarrassed about it as others imply that you should be. Of course, you don’t announce it like Moses on a mountaintop, but you don’t deny it when people ask. People stub toes every day. Would you stub your toe again? Probably not, if you could help it. Nobody ever really wants to do it on purpose, anyway. Your best explanation: it’s just something that sorta happened. Months after your toe stopped
hurting, the stubbing just isn't something you care about. Others keep
reminding you of it. But of course, they’re just kidding.
Here’s how I’m bringing this all
of this karma and metaphorical toe stubbing back to Christmas cards: At first, I wanted to send cards to everybody I’ve ever met, provided I could track them down and take out a small loan for the postage. But after I came up with my mission of writing a personal message to everyone, I suddenly realized that I didn’t really have much to say to some people. It sort of reminded me of my high
school open house. After it was over and I counted up the
checks and cash, devilishly smiled, rubbed my hands together and let loose
an evil Scooby-Doo-Villain-laugh, I sat down to write thank you
notes.
The people I knew got very nice write-ups. The people
who I didn’t know got form letters, saying something about how nice it was
for them to contribute to my college education and that I would make sure
their cash would be spend on books or learning, not on, say, Smirnoff.
So they got a handwritten conversational disclaimer. My version of: “Thanks for the beer money, whoever you are! I’m just kidding." This time, I’m on the Earl plan. I crossed a few people off of my Christmas card list. Is that so bad? It’s not like Christmas cards are Certificates of Friendship. Some people send cards out to people on the fringes of acquaintance only for the reason that they think they should, not because they want to. It’s a nice gesture, not a genuine one. Today, I’ll get more cards decorated with very nice snowmen and presents and holly and ivy, and return the niceness shown to me in kind. Genuinely. Maybe I can’t do that for everybody, but at least I can try to for a portion of the people who have truly helped me out over the years. The kind of people who can't stop kidding about a stubbed toe, can go without. They probably weren't really expecting a card anyway. As Earl would say, it’s my way of making good on good karma, and letting bad karma go. Otherwise, dude, I’m just messin’ with ya. |
My plan was,
again, to write something nice to everybody.