Traditions

  They're familiar, which makes them comforting. Or at least they should be comforting. Or at least we try to convince ourselves that they're comforting, that everything is fine and right. But just because we do something that's always been done doesn't make it worth doing all the time. And because society uses traditions as a security blanket we continue to practice these things we sometimes don't understand. Or we don't enjoy.
  I did not go home for Thanksgiving. I'm 25 and this was my first Thanksgiving away from my family. This was not mistake. I had made this decision as soon as the stores started putting out Halloween decorations. Instead, I stayed in bed and watched the Macy's parade, caught up on some tv shows, hunted for fast food and had margaritas with a coworker. Now, for anyone who enjoys the traditions of going home for the holidays, this may seem a little 'sad', at least that's the way people have described my situation. It's rather annoying. Even when I explain why I didn't want to go see my family, it only seemed to make them more, I guess sympathetic but I only saw it as irksome. I didn't want to go home because I knew I wouldn't enjoy it. My family is not particularly ideal. There wouldn't have been that comforting familiarity. 
  For a second, when I finally told my mom I wouldn't' be coming, I felt a pang of guilt. Because I did not have a legitimate reason except that I didn't want to go and that seemed selfish. I still wonder if it left my mom feeling a little hurt. But I can't let that destroy me. I shouldn't have to feel bad for choosing what would have made me happy. There comes a time when you realize that you're not looking forward to seeing that annoying relative. You've been out in the world and had other sweet potato pies, much better than the ones your mom makes. The idea of being cramped in a house full of your hungry family members no longer seems comforting. 
  I spent the weekend before Thanksgiving attending what I hope to be the start of a new tradition. I spent it with my friends. And we were in a tiny living room eating barbecue chicken and chicken spaghetti and drinking. Afterwards we all fell into a silent bliss watching college football. Some of us were too full, too fatigued or too inebriated to function but it was familiar. Because it was something we had been doing way back in undergrad anyway but it just finally had a name.
  I understand the value of traditions. It's a way of remembering and honoring people and events from the past. To not forget. But I'd rather not put myself in a place where I may have to endure all the bad memories that come with traditions. I have new traditions to start and new memories to create. And I have to make sure to never let the good, old memories be soured by pressure to continue a routine that we're all numbly performing.