Estefania is a sophomore studying communication and plant biology.
A couple weeks ago my friend Jacob and I went to see We Were Promised Jetpacks, a favorite band of mine, as Jacob’s gift to me for my 20th birthday. The concert was awesome and as I discussed it with another friend, it was brought to my attention how truly thoughtful this present had been; I got to experience something I loved and the wrapping wouldn’t clutter my waste bin.
I thought about this conversation later when my friend Celeste asked for Christmas present advice.
“Wow,” I thought, “I haven’t even begun to think about what I’m getting everyone. I may just be the most selfish human being in the world. I don’t really fancy gift-giving.”
Well, I thought it through, perhaps too much, and came to a noble conclusion to pardon my lack of gift-giving spirit. I’ve come to gather that my qualm is with the system of gift-giving and receiving that we as a society of well-to-do beings are chained to. Not gift-giving as a practice, but the culture we have created and cling to.
So, you tell your friend you like honeybees. Your friend, being the attentive friend she is, hears this and starts planning your birthday present eight months in advance. You open your present and there it is; a pair of honeybee earrings. A few birthdays and gift-requiring holidays later and your apartment is filled with honeybee mugs, a tea brewed from honeybee honey found only in the Amazon, honeybee throw pillows, honeybee phone and laptop cases and a honeybee snow globe that winds to sing some deep melody.
Your friend meant well and it isn’t that she doesn’t know you at your most intimate level. What happens in these oft-occurring situations is that we confuse what someone says they like with something they want.
I like books, plants and hairbands. However, even if you know me like the back of your hand, you probably won’t guess correctly what types of books, plants and hairbands I want around me because honestly, I probably don’t know myself.
Our preferences develop and change far too quickly for anyone to keep up and no one should be tasked with trying to decipher the fads we go through.
We as gift-receivers shouldn’t be chained down to things we said we liked once upon a time. If I say I like blue scarves, I should have the freedom to develop a new opinion as soon as tomorrow.
This next point perhaps alienates me as having been quite fortunate, but I think if we all really consider it, it applies pretty evenly throughout. I have a lot of stuff. I have enough things.
I’m just as materialistic as the next gal, but if you’re going to buy me yet another trinket, please don’t.
It’s not that I won’t love it. I might, but I truly don’t need it. If I really wanted another dragonfly-in-gel paperweight, I would have gone out and gotten one.
So when a present-giving situation arises, I sigh and strain to come up with an idea that is practical, heartfelt and most importantly, something the person wants rather than something I’d like to give. I’d like to think that the struggle I have with picking presents is actually a testament to how well I know my loved ones.
I know my mom likes candles, but I also know she doesn’t want another homemade candle mod-podged with our pictures and a sappy mother-daughter quote. So this puts me in a tough spot. I don’t want to just buy a sweater. My mother deserves more than that, but I can’t just make a Pinterest craft that she doesn’t need. If I get her nothing, I look as sloppy as the could-have-been craft. What is a gal to do?
All of this because we have been taught that to be thoughtful is to struggle through the process of finding the perfect present.
But I’ve figured it out. I understand why Jacob’s gift was so special. He gave me something I could experience, not a picture frame I could keep around forever. Something that would only last an hour or two, but that I would appreciate and remember for much longer than a battery-operated music box would run.
This isn’t an argument for some grander good or for remembering the reason for the season or for any altruistic way of life. Honestly, this is me saying we can do better. You like honeybees? Forget the honeybee flashlight keychain. Let me perform for you an embarrassing, yet heartfelt and precious play about a honeybee queen starring a character with your name. You like records? Let me look up record stores around here and give you a compiled list and 20 bucks.
Let me fill your heart, not your desk drawer.