I find holidays very interesting. I mean, we get so pumped up one day and then the other 364 days of the year we go on living in the madness of our lives.

I do not intend to demean tragic days of history that we set aside to remember a serious event or the people who sacrificed their lives for us. Nor do I mean to bash on any holiday that celebrates a happy day, such as Fourth of July when we have nice barbecues with family friends to rejoice our independence from Great Britain. As a matter of fact, I do not aim to belittle any holiday.

Every holiday is special and serves a meaning, but it is a mere observation that people can easily get caught up celebrating a holiday for the parties and food (let’s admit, we all love feasts) but neglect that these special days that claim an entire day in the calendar to themselves actually represent something.

Before I dive deeper in this observational rant, let’s get on the same page. When you read what I wrote up there, I don’t know what you were thinking- but the holiday I am speaking of is, of course, the big holiday of this month, Thanksgiving.

I have nothing against Thanksgiving. It is a wonderful day in which we can eat good food and hang out with family and… give thanks? See, that right there is the problem- the fact that we realize everything we should be showing gratitude towards on one day. If we are truly thankful for something in our lives, we won’t wait and save our “thanks” until the last Thursday of November every year to spill it at the dinner table when the head of the family forces everyone to say one thing they’re thankful for. A “thank you” means nothing if it is not genuine- Thanksgiving does not ask for courtesy, it asks that it be even more selfish and infiltrate our minds every day of the year, not just one. But it’s a good kind of selfish.

Reste toi-même,

Michelle Kang