As I was glancing through the CultureMap events calendar, full to-the-brim with holiday entertainment of all sorts, I had a sort of revelation. Between traveling, college finals,a tight post-college budget and a reluctance to stay still for a long period of time in places that don't serve vodka tonics, it's been probably a decade since I took in a holiday show.

How did this happen? Am I simply scarred from cringe-inducing adolescent trips to see A Tuna Christmas, or have I turned into some kind of incorrigible, jaded urbanite?

If the best way to quit something is cold turkey, then the best way to start again is to hit the ground running. So, as an experiment and a crash course in holiday entertainment in the 21st century, I pledged to see as many Christmas performances—plays, concerts, etc.—as possible over a 4-day period and chronicle the experience.

Day 1: The SantaLand Diaries at Alley Theatre

SantaLand Diaries was the perfect aperitif to a feast of holiday cheer. Short and hilarious, the one-man show is adapted from an essay by David Sedaris is as bitter as it is sweet. Recounting Sedaris's real-life experience as an elf in the flagship Macy's SantaLand, it's a brutal take-down of wannabe-artist elves, manic parents and pompous fake Santas.

I've always had a soft spot for one-man shows, for the pure amount of charisma and energy they require from the individual actor. Todd Waite absolutely nails the role, interacting with the audience, strip-changing onstage from normal person into Crumpet the Elf and delivering diatribes of highly-quotable absurdities:

Of course, by the end of the show, we learn the meaning to the story: How special a gifted Santa can make a child—an entire family—feel, talking about love and kindness instead of gifts. It's moving in a way that cynics like me particularly get: the world may be crazy and the holidays full of commercialism but every once in a while, the true meaning of Christmas sneaks through.

Day 2: Selections from Handel's Messiah at Mercury Baroque

Arriving at the Wortham Center early (for once in my life), I took advantage of the discussion on Messiah taking place in an adjacent classroom. I like having some background on a piece of music or art before I experience it, as it gives more depth to the piece and lets me know what to look for when forming an opinion. But the lecture was... boring. And in such a small room I felt walking out would be insulting, so I stayed, and learned about Handel's use of dynamic themes. When the song talks about heaven and divinity, he uses high notes, and low notes when talking about sin or the world.

I didn't really know what to expect from Mercury Baroque, an ensemble that only performs a limited amount of shows per year, but when they began to play I was simply blown away. A quartet of soloists was impressive—I particularly enjoyed the tenor. I switched between closing my eyes to focus on the music and scrutinizing the performers. The soprano, when not singing, was performing what I call a head-dance, bopping around to the music from the neck up. It was adorable. I also enjoyed the swooping moves of the lead violinist when he was really feeling the music.

Mercury Baroque uses period instruments for a more authentic listening experience, including my personal favorite, the harpsichord. "Ooh, harpsichord!" I whispered whenever it entered, in an excited tone I usually reserve for saying "free cookies!" or "ooh, kittens!" I am weird.

When the Hallelujah chorus is performed, everyone stands, something that apparently everyone knew but me. According to legend King George II once stood at this point in the performance, and since then everyone follows suit. Sure, it's a big, stirring section of music, but didn't we go through a revolution to rid ourselves of the tyranny of King George? Because our forefathers wanted coffee (not tea), no taxation without representation and the right to remain seated during a symphonic performance.

But, OK, I'll stand. It's the least I can do after such an amazing performance. Christmas spirit has reached a new high.

Day 3: A Christmas Carol at Alley Theatre and O Little Town of Bagels, Teacakes, and Hamburger Buns at A. D. Players

While I'm excited about these shows, I'm worried about overkill. I've never been to a double feature, and as a teenager I never even wanted to sneak into another theater with my friends after our movie ended. ("You guys," I'd say, "We just saw a movie.")

At A Christmas Carol, the stage opens darkly with a cloud of spooky fog and some creepy, glowing, ghostly dancers. I'm impressed that the Alley isn't sugarcoating the darker parts of the story in a kid-friendly performance. But then the ghosts fade and the first line is delivered by Scrooge's housekeeper, played by James Black in a Mrs. Doubtfire-ish fashion, which everyone finds hilarious. Humbug.

Thus goes the play: the staging, costumes and several of the performances are wonderful (particularly Jeffrey Bean as Scrooge and David Rainey as Bert and the Ghost of Christmas Present), and I enjoyed the symmetry of the same performers playing Scrooge's nephew and his wife also playing Scrooge at 21 and his former fiancée. But then at an unexpected moment a line would be hammed up for laughs. Sure, the kids enjoy it, but is A Christmas Carol a comedy? I leave with mixed feelings.

After a short respite, it's time for the second play. Of the smaller repertory companies with Christmas shows (A. D. Players, Ensemble Theatre, Radio Music Theatre and Main Street Theater), I chose the Players essentially at random: I liked the name of the play. Sitting in the small auditorium listening to the program announcements about parking and classes, facing the stage—a small-town diner scene set in 1960—the whole scene seemed to meld into one. I mean, is there a bigger anachronism then a wholesome neighborhood theater company in the middle of the big, corrupting city?

The play is like most Christmas classics, its characters painted with broad strokes—the humble diner owner, the fallen woman, the hard-nosed preacher, the crazy lady, etc. The best part is Kevin Dean, who plays the pastor, a rakish bellboy, a frazzled mother in a muumuu and about six other characters. Sometimes funny, sometimes serious, he reminds me of James Roday, the fake psychic on the TV show Psych. Aside from his funny interruptions, the performance is composed of 90 percent warm nostalgia for 1960 and before—a big part of the play is the flashbacks to one character's decennial trips to the town with his wife. The only parts that trip me up are the subtle-as-a-brick references to church and prayer. I began to worry the climax of the performance would be the non-religious characters accepting Christ as their Lord and savior, followed by an opportunity for the audience members to do the same. Luckily (for me) it was just a normal Christmas play, where a group of strangers come together in the holiday spirit.

By the end of the second play of the day, I'm predictably past my breaking point on Christmas cheer and good will towards men. My Facebook status says "barfing Christmas spirit" and for once eggnog is not involved.

Day 4: Very Merry Pops at the Houston Symphony

In lieu of a second matinee, this afternoon I participate in a December ritual for Dallas natives, watching the Cowboys (and their playoffs hopes) implode. By the evening my Scrooge-ification has faded and I'm ready for some more merriment, especially of a musical sort.

From the moment Pops director Michael Krajewski hits the stage to the Rocky theme song, I know this will be no staid affair. The music stays upbeat and carol-y, for the most part with some beautiful slow holiday pieces mixed in. But there's never a moment of boredom. Between screens showing pictures of the musicians as children and dance accompaniment, the evening seems to fly by. I loved the Dance of Asian America group's unexpected and graceful performance, but when Revolve Dance Company came out for a second dance during a lively ragtime version of "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer," I had only one reaction: "ugh... tap." My personal distaste for the genre aside, isn't it rude to tap dance over a symphony? I guess if the musicians don't mind, I have no standing to complain.

In a show with many pleasures, the highlight was special guest and pop pianist William Joseph, who has performed with Alicia Keys and toured with Josh Groban. His Piano Fantasy was the least Christmas-y music played, and (perhaps not a coincidence) also my favorite.

I left both sad and relieved my whirlwind of holiday merriment was over. I learned that I'm not a fan of fake Santas and should limit my cheesy holiday plays to a maximum of one per day. I learned that parking in the theater district is freaking expensive. Most of all I learned that in spite of my jaded persona, I still love holiday entertainment and everything these shows stand for: brightening up a cold gray season, remembering family and friends, and good will towards men. I'm not Tiny Tim yet, but I'm no Scrooge either.