Turkey

Happy Thanksgiving!

I am currently lying in my bed in my childhood bedroom. 

It's cold upstairs and my sheets are cold so I tried to take my laptop under the covers to write, but it didn't work. I had to write on my side while lying on my right arm, and it was definitely warmer but also more uncomfortable.

I just sneezed.

Thanksgiving was Thanksgiving. 

It was nice, I guess. 

Was it nice? 

Yes.

I started almost crying at the table and had to look through the bottom of my water glass at the distorted image of a candle it created in order to stop the tears.

I was sitting with a table of people that I love, and I felt so disconnected. 

Sometimes I feel connected with people but most of life is spent in this sort of isolated place, where even if I am with other people, I don't feel like they really know me, and I feel like there's so much more inside everyone and inside myself, too, that I can't show or see. And that makes me cry sometimes.

I ate mashed potatoes and two bread rolls with butter, and a piece of pumpkin pie and vanilla bean ice cream and a weird "old fashioned" cookie with raisins and molasses in it.

It's nice to be home. My bed is starting to warm up now. 

I have cramps, sort of.

It would be nice to write about my family and people I know on here, but I think I'm uncomfortable with doing that right now. I don't know. It's also nice to just write about what I'm feeling and not get too specific about any of it.

My family is really nice to be around. 

I'm tired.

Sleepy tired achey heart tired.

Listening to Smog, "I Break Horses". 

I want to write a book.

The Patriots are kicking ass right now.

I drew a picture of a boy and girl in ballpoint pen and I like the way it came out.

Old friends break my heart.

Distance.

At work a few days ago a handsome man in shiny brown oxfords was flirting with me. I think he was flirting with me. He kept walking back over to talk to me. He said he has nephews that like curious George and he wanted to buy them a small George figurine but hadn't been able to find one anywhere. I showed him a George jack-in-the-box and puzzle but he said no, no. 

Anyway he was very attractive and it made me feel fluttery to have a beautiful man talk to me. It doesn't happen often enough.

Sweet Lord.

My shoulders hurt because I'm lying on my stomach and typing and for some reason that puts pressure on my shoulders, which causes them to ache.

The only thing that's bothering me is the thing I cannot say. 

I would like to reread Maira Kalman's The Principles of Uncertainty. I own it. It's around somewhere.

My mom said she would be really happy if she was given a jar of jam for Christmas. We were watching a Smuckers commercial on TV.

I had my teeth cleaned yesterday and the dental hygienist mentioned the word "precancerous" in passing, as in so-and-so could potentially become "precancerous."

No. My first grade teacher died from cancer. My elementary school art teacher. My guidance counselor with the newborn baby.

No nonononononon nonononon no.

What to listen to?

Most of the songs in my iTunes library are connected to different memories.