The other day, I was watching an episode of Everybody Loves Raymond where Raymond buys a special, expensive, rare, fad collectible card for his daughter. You may know the episode, Hackidu. It's a good one. Paul Reubens, best known for his character Pee-wee Herman, steals the show.
The point is, it made me very emotional, thinking of all the nice toys my parents bought me as a kid, including many that were fads, expensive, difficult to obtain, or simply extremely thoughtful. I grew up in the 90s, and so this list includes things like Beanie Babies, Tamagotchis, baseball cards, video games, educational games, books, scooters, backpacks featuring TV shows I liked, and much more than I can honestly remember.
I'm very grateful for that. I hate to say, “it's the thought that counts,” as though I didn't enjoy the toys themselves, but truthfully, the thought and love they put into those choices is very meaningful to me.
I feel a bit strange being so emotional over physical things, especially when I dislike consumerism, but it was the thoughts that matter most. They show their love through gifts, to a large extent, and I am very touched.
Pets are not good gifts, no matter how many YouTube videos suggest otherwise. Gift-givers want to witness joyous reactions from gift recipients, and many people are genuinely joyous the moment they receive a surprise pet, but caring for an animal is a responsibility that lasts for much, much longer than that one moment. Unless the recipient has met the animal, knows for certain that the animal will be their gift, wants the animal to be their gift, and is completely prepared for that responsibility (i.e., unless there is no element of surprise at all), please do not give an animal as a gift. Even then, please think twice.
Sometimes, I think this blog is too cynical. Other times, I think it's too personal. I don't want it to resemble an adolescent diary. I don't want to be melodramatic. I do, however, want to refine my thinking and help others understand me. Writing helps tremendously with both. I'm much more clear in writing than I am in speech. I'm also much more clear in writing than I am in my own head. Do others care what I have to say? I don't know. They probably care much less than I'd like. Nevertheless, writing feels good.
The irony here is not lost on me. This post itself is rather revealing and pessimistic. That's life. Perhaps there's even a lesson there.