Surpassed by the Gesture

9-14-21

I will be 26 in less than 2 weeks. That is a weird thought to me. Time continues on and I hit benchmarks as I follow it. Whenever my birthday rolls around there is a slight melancholy around it. It’s not the fact that I’m growing older, but more the realization that I don’t know what my age is supposed to mean. Obviously it’s just a tracker of the amount of times I’ve went around the sun, but that doesn’t feel right.

Part of my believes it is related to my anti-capitalist stance. Of course I love gifts, but in the end I feel lonely with them on my birthday. I remember as a child enjoying the day and the activities so much that the present became a cherry on top. Of course you’re ecstatic to receive in a society that’s all about consuming. Receiving is consuming without effort. But nowadays it feels hollow to me. I appreciate every gift I receive, don’t get me wrong. It’s just that I think the gifts I want are the mementos that the object turns into.

Our cat chewed up one of Amelia’s toys that she got from my sister when she was working in Mexico City. It was a hand-made, yarn, Xolo dog and that little bastard chewed up the limbs, nose, and tail. I was so fucking angry at him that I shook the penny can a bunch. It’s just that that’s not something I can replace. It was given as a gift and was absolutely beautiful and because of carelessness is forever changed.

Money is tight right now and Marie’s whole upbringing revolved around giving and receiving gifts as a way of showing consideration, care, and appreciation. I don’t want her to spend any money on me for a gift but I know she will, because how could she not? I told her that she is all the gift I need, that our family is not built around money but love, that the item is surpassed by the gesture.

Fucking I gotta go I’m still steamed about my cat. Love the little bastard to death but it’s like, why the fuck did I get you ten different cat toys (some of which are stuffed) if you’re just going to chew on the one thing we don’t want you to. I guess it’s my fault, partially. I had kept it on the shelves as a memento but then my daughter wanted to play with it and I wasn’t going to say no.

God damn beautiful, annoying, lovely cat bastard.

-E.B.

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