"It Ought to Be a Law to Start Christmas Before December"

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I am very much a traditionalist--I like my holidays to have the same foods and rituals as they always have, with no interlopers, no drastic alterations. But recently I've wondered why the meanings surrounding these holidays have increasingly meant little to me.

I cannot remember the last time I had real holiday spirit. I try to get into it every year, and occasionally there's a glimpse, but I feel it's been sucked out of me just by the relentless commercialism. Like Easter in March, I find Christmas before December--even early December--distasteful. It's just too soon. Christmas becomes all about presents--what do you want? What does everyone else what? When will you have time to get it? Is it too much? Ahh! Enough with the hassle! Rarely does anything seem worth it; even with the best of intentions it's just another check on a list. I tend to think of the best gifts in March for people who have birthdays in October, and of course I have no clue by the time December rolls around. I should just get gifts whenever I think of them.

Presents, like many of the things surrounding Christmas, have become oppressive. The saccharine, omnipresent music that only passes muster because of the season, the constant wonderings of what to buy, what to wear, what to give obscure nearly any meaning attached to what makes the holidays special and just makes it a month to get through.

Dragging out Christmas only intensifies the antipathy. Instead of eager anticipation, the days become merely rote, banal—plain ol’ January, February or March, another dark winter day with tacky decorations and music. Thanksgiving is a holiday that gets bypassed between Halloween and Thanksgiving, lumped in as another food-heavy day that dieters should be careful of. The decorations are warmer, the break a respite. Christmas is all-empowering, suffocation.

I hate being asked what I want for Christmas. I hate not being surprised, and going, “Yep, that’s exactly what I said,” because I rarely truly, truly want something, and even then it’s usually not material goods. I want people, as silly and unrealistic as it sounds, to just know that I like something and get it for me, because they know I’d never buy it for myself. I want Christmas to feel special again, to make it really exciting and worth looking forward to, instead of just another chore.

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Even I think they're adorable:


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Please don't miss Andy Rooney's segment at the end on the death of newspapers. It's why I've always vastly preferred print journalism to any of the schlock of TV news.

News Analysis: 60 Minutes, Hillary Clinton, US Weekly and Gender Stereotypes

Although these 60 Minutes interviews aired a month ago, and much has changed, I feel the criticisms and observations I’ve recorded still stand. I’ve updated and edited various versions of this since that time, more because of time restraints than anything else. The segments are solid pieces, very well-written, but look at the stark differences in terms of style of questioning, arrangement of questions, what they discussed.

60 Minutes aired the Obama interview first, then after the commercial break came Hillary. Notice the differences, in approach, in style:

Obama’s video:

(Transcript)

Now watch Hillary:

(Transcript)

They’re both excellent interviews, no doubt. There's no coincidence that Katie Couric is the one interviewing Hillary, and the 60 Minutes newsman Steve Kroft has Barack. Katie Couric--with all the criticism of her Evening News broadcast, her soft Today Show background--is going to be asking "the tough questions" of the female presidential candidate. It's a perfect meld: Katie gets to be serious, yet show off her gentleness, how at ease she can be, and Hillary can indulge them.

Both interviewers ask good questions, often touching on similar topics, and both candidates do shill out a bit their lines. But notice: while Kroft ends the interview with the “How do you do it?” question, Couric begins her interview that way. While both interviewers aren’t antagonistic, and are usually very friendly, Couric affects camaraderie right away: She brings up her troubles, the fact that she could very well lose the nomination, starting the interview off negatively, though with a pressing question. Yet Hillary answers positively, that she believes in what she’s doing, telling herself, essentially, that she can do it. It’s all very touchy-feeling women’s magazine-y. Katie interrupts her: “You never think, oh I’m so tired, I’m so exhausted, I’m spending so much money, wouldn’t it be easier to hang it all up?”

It’s such a bonding moment, yet it’s a question I’m sure many are wondering. “Katie, you can’t think like that, you have to believe you’re going to win, otherwise leave the field and let someone who has the confidence and the optimism and the determination that a leader has to have get on the field and stay,” Hillary responds with iron-strong conviction. However, as much as it is easy to mock Hillary Clinton's women's magazine-self-help strong-woman mantra of "I believe I can", she's got a point. There's no way--and this goes for anyone undertaking such a massive effort--that you can do something so huge, so completely taxing on every possible facet of your life, without believing in what you are doing. It’s impossible. You have to believe that you can effect change, that you can succeed. That will (and her money) must be strong. Yet that line, especially in this context, does come across as a little pandering, self-serving, haughty, even. To some people it sounds patronizing. Would it come across that way if Barack Obama said it, if a male candidate said it? Probably not; it wouldn’t have that ring of cynicism that plagues her.

Watch their faces during this interaction. Katie Couric really wants to know how Hillary does it, and Hillary, true to her gender and her persona, gives details, techniques: hot peppers, water, no diet soda, washing her hands to stay healthy. Details are what women want to know. We marvel at those who somehow have it all, get it all done, and Hillary fits perfectly into that. It’s why her “crying moment” before New Hampshire worked for many women voters.

Katie also asks if Hillary likes Barack Obama. Hillary’s whole spiel–she helped campaign for him, there’s a picture of him in her office, yada yada yada–is inconsequential. What’s the point? Is Katie trying to get Hillary to crack, to prove there is more than a scintilla of bad blood between them, trying to form wedges? Isn’t that what people accuse women of doing all the time, holding onto grudges and forming new ones, to prove that Hillary’s full of hate? Notice Steve Kroft didn’t ask Obama his opinion of Hillary. Why does this matter? Presidential candidates have been known to pick running mates based on electability, not on their personal opinion. Hillary’s answers are all pat, pandering responses that deserve eye-rolling–yeah, we all waited on bated breath for the day where a white woman would run against a black man for president. She is right, though, in that this election is both about what they represent and who they are, more so than any other election. I question whether Obama’s ever had a negative ad run against him. He did run for Congress; senate races do have attack ads. Hell, even my local mayoral election had some nasty (yet clever) flyers sent out.

Look at Katie’s face when she asks, teasingly, if Hillary “couldn’t handle it”. She’s egging her on. Couric also asks about media treatment compared to Obama, and—this is before the “whining” in the Ohio debate—she acknowledges it, but says it’s ok. It has to be ok. If it’s not, she’s got a grudge, a vendetta, and even if that’s true, she can’t let everybody know it. It must not be verified.

Katie also goes into Hillary’s personal history. “Weren’t you the girl who sat in the front row who took copious notes and always raised her hand?” “Well, not always...” C’mon, Katie, weren’t you that type of girl too? They giggle, sharing a laugh about high school boys (it is pretty funny). It’s all designed—much like the entire segment—to show Hillary as human, feminine, to appeal to women voters, her base. I want to ask if it’s really necessary, but that’s a moot question. It’s what you do, and she’s been just as “aggressive” and “manly” in some of her tactics as commented on in the press. It doesn’t matter—you do what you need to do to win.

She doesn’t just do this on television. In this multifaceted media world, you have to hit every possible target, so why not do a spread in US Weekly? Here, she’s embarrassingly over-the-top and garishly girlish and giggly—exactly what this trashy mag is. She's trying to be "relatable", for all those young and middle-aged and bored women who like to thumb through those celebrity digs. It's downmarket Hillary. Look at those exclamation marks! Because it’s too elitist to be in a Vogue spread, since only Coasters read that magazine, and they’re going for Obama anyway. Downtrodden middle-class middle-American voters, that’s who she needs!

But since then, in order to be fair (and because an US Weekly staffer is an Obama fan), the other Democratic hopeful had his spotlight in this great tabloid. His though is cute, People-magazine friendly, with shots of his family and lots of kids, including himself as a lil tyke. Aww. It’s not embarrassing; it’s the male version of “He’s Just Like Us!” the popular feature where famous people are shown doing everyday things. Although one can argue that because Hillary’s been in the public eye longer than Barack has, it’s a better feature to show her atrocious outfits, especially because she’s a woman of power; she should know better. But instead, even with the ridiculous prose and tone of the entire publication dumbing them down, Hillary’s piece comes off as voyeuristic; it’s time to shake our heads and cluck-cluck at her stupidity. It can be relatable, but not in the Oprah way. Barack’s piece, despite him doing “normal” things, isn’t voyeuristic at all; it’s classy. It’s sweet, it’s what Life magazine would do if Life still existed or if he was running decades ago.

It's hard to be humble and confident, especially in politics. No one can be everything to everybody, but a presidential candidate's got to try. For those who accuse me of following the election based on identity politics, there were many times during this interview where I cringed a little. Hillary, like many driven, hard-charging women, comes across a little too earnest, and that turns a lot of people off. Earnestness is vulnerability mixed with passion; you see this trait when people get on their high horse over some issue important to them.

Is the analysis unfair? I’ve been pretty harsh towards both Katie Couric and Hillary Clinton. I don’t have a particular bias against either one of them; some people might call me a fan or apologist for them because of things I’ve said in the past. But I’m struck by the different tactics used in the interviews and by US Weekly. Their agendas were similar; both interviewers were gentle, and the spreads only served as another extension of coverage, reaching to people who may not be politically aware. In the interview, both Obama and Clinton gave excellent answers; I particularly liked Obama’s example of Google as a company that hasn’t been around long but that runs excellently. He has a point–but I also think that experience does go hand in hand with longevity/age, for lack of a better word–it’s why young people have such a hard time finding jobs and such.

But what might be one of the most telling moments in the entire segment is the ending: Says Hillary, “I have a clear sense that things will work out the way they work out. I will be fine.” It’s the quintessential ending for a female-centered story. After all, that’s how Sex and the City ended, with Carrie saying she’ll be fine, and that it’ll be just fabulous. I can just hear Hillary saying the same thing.

Is It Worth It? The Struggle for Happiness

This is so true.

I wasn't surprised by much of it--I've heard most of the studies before.

Of course, Americans aren't going to change. I'm sure anyone under the age of 23 watching the segment was halfway into packing their bags as soon as they heard that student loans don't exist--forget about paid paternity leave, 6 week vacations and 37-hour workweeks--but I knew better. It's the taxes that are gonna get you, buddy, and very few Americans would ever concede to paying almost half their salary in taxes. We like our money too much. We like our stuff too much.

There’s a fundamental difference in attitudes between those that are “happy”–and happiness scales usually mean contentment, because happiness in its everyday form is not the rush of jubilation, but of steady smiles–and those that are working towards being happy. Americans are always striving to be the best. In fact, we can argue that not only is this embedded into our culture, but that today’s youth has made it a default. We deride people who aren’t striving, who are aimless, unsure of their future. It’s been said many times, especially in articles discussing the power of the youth vote in this election, that “we know where we want to go”, that “we’re all just trying to make it happen”. Everything in our lives is so stressful. We all look back fondly on college, ignoring all those nights where we had freakouts and panic attacks over a paper, midterm, or a nasty fight with a friend. Getting into college, at least among the middle and upper-middle class, is one giant huckster hunt, constantly trying to prove why you are so great. We're already outstanding before we've had the opportunity to have done anything. That doesn’t change once school is over, either: especially in this transparent day and age, we have to work hard to make sure we live up to our image, that we approve of our image, and that we have the resume to back up those assertions.

"Happiness is the result of low expectations."

There are some that would jump at that statement, saying you always have to try for better, you never know what you can achieve, go for your dreams, all the inspirational stuff that American Idol winners sing about. Maybe. But, while not discrediting that notion, I’ve always thought about, in a realistic fashion, that sometimes low expectations are good, because if something exceeds them, you’re happier. But this isn’t something you can just magically do–you cannot go from one day praying for that raise or that A without some sort of change of heart. We are conditioned to strive, and as such we’ve cracked under the pressure, becoming a nation of strivers, of anxiety-ridden Zoloft-taking power-hungry emo fameseekers. Our culture conditions us to it. Although Into the Wild, both the movie and the book, take place in the early ‘90s, Christopher McCandless’ story could just as easily be set now. His story speaks to so many people because dropping out of the prevailing culture and testing the limits of survival with nature is so at odds with modern living. It’s an incredibly scary, incredibly liberating concept, a fantasy that in many ways is more attainable than all the riches we’re after. The same concept prevails in edutainments like Man vs. Wild and many programs on Discovery and National Geographic, that of living in a different, realer world, learning how to adapt, dealing with an authentic type of stress, one that matters. The fact that it was true also lends it that otherworldly aura. For once we’re in the rat race, leaving it seems impossible, because you can’t go back, and few people are ready or willing to jump out.

“Wanting it all is a bacterium that stays with us from youth to old age.”

Ah, power. Americans are always the best, we can do everything and anything. Just look at our foreign policy. Hell, the women’s movement today just seems to be synonymous with dismantling the ideal of “having it all.” We all know we can’t have it all, no matter how hard we try. No matter what you do, you want more, yet still we manage to persist that if we just try harder, work a little faster, smarter, better, we’ll get it.

And then we’ll find something else to strive for.

We look to the day when we can have power. We’re the boss, the king of the castle, queen of the road. But power can cause unhappiness–after all, there’s always someone out there trying to usurp it, using the powerful for something.

Should we downscale ambition? Tailor it so that it’s less about winning? But whether it’s weight loss or running a marathon, it’s inherit in us that we try to do well, and then our culture comes and makes us want to be the best, or at least the best that we can attain.

Studies have shown (forgive me, I would link if I could) that money and happiness only correlate to a certain degree; that is, once a standard of living is met, the increase in wealth has no bearing on happiness. You get used to the stuff you can now buy; if anything, this can cause more stress because now there is a house to look after, a fancier car that requires more maintenance, an expensive electronic that cannot get scratched. Worries multiply, and downscaling is not an option. Again comes that feeling of it being impossible to go back.

“We can’t have it all, but we can have a lot.”

“There’s a grandness to it,” one of the Danes says about America, but he adds that he wouldn’t want his kids to live there. So many Americans dream of grand lives, of things done, goals accomplished. It’s why writing out lists of life goals has become popular. But striving always has disappointment attached to it; yet instead we are buoyed by the fact that Abraham Lincoln failed many times before he became a great president. But remember, guys–he was miserable. Then there’s the corollary that to be great must equal a lot of pain and hardship. Everyone can easily list examples of how this thinking has become practically gospel.

It is amusing to hear in the video that Danes would say, if hearing they were #20 on a list, that that would be pretty good, it’s within the top 25. American articles are always bemoaning the fact that we are so far below the rest of the world in clean energy, in math and science scores, in healthy living...we would never ever flip that assessment around like the Danes. We’ve gotta be on top, we have to win. But like everything in life, winning–whatever that means–is about tradeoffs, and too many of us realize we don’t like the life we are truly living. We watch Into the Wild, we contemplate our existence, maybe we feel inspired, but then we get distracted by a new commercial and the feeling goes away, only to be replaced by the next inspirational entertainment.

(Man, this makes me want to reread my DeTocqueville.)