Andare, Partire, Tornare ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Loads of Turkey And a happy thanksgiving to all - a day late, as is typical for me. Spent Thanksgiving at a cute little place called Heart In Hand, in the cute little town of Clifton (money and horses and antiques). We've actually gone there enough that it's a tradition by this point. My little sis was in a foul mood, because mom had been ragging on her earlier that day, but she cheered up later on and we took the dogs and got out of the house for a while. Not much else to say. I don't get too profound around Thanksgiving, which I suppose does miss the point, but Thanksgiving has always been to me the family gathering of my childhood, and it's something I apparently have shed now that I'm out on my own. It makes me feel a trifle wistful, but I'm not overly concerned about it - after all, we make our own traditions when we begin our own families, right? And having no kids, T and I have only ourselves to please. So if traditions start to form, they will form, and we'll embrace them, and I can stop writing diary entries that sound this wistful and pathetic. *ahem* Got the standard Harry Potter is satanic and we have to be on our guard against evil in this world lecture. This is, after all, the woman who made me put my Papa Smurf toy in the garage because smurfs were little people who lived in the woods, and were Obviously Evil. And dragons are satanic, and she has always been suspicious about my reading habits, especially fantasy books. How did my remarkable sister and myself spring from the loins of such a woman? Probably because we both discovered reading early, and realized that her reality was a strange and schitzophrenic one that would be useless to cultivate if we wanted to be happy and/or get along in the real world. I miss the camraderie of the department acutely right around times like these. I love T dearly, and I have other, very good friends in close proximity, but I miss being part of a close group of people all involved in the same activity. It's always been hard making friends for me, because I make jokes that most people don't get, and get a sort of desperate, puppy-ish expression on my face that, I do believe, turns people off. It's rare that I can overcome this and just be myself. So, because of all this, I miss people that I've already become friends with. Ok, going to cut this off before I make myself maudelin. And you know, as one of my other diary-sibs said in her journal, writing things down has such an effect of formalizing it. Who knows if I'll feel the same way tomorrow? Who know what things will be like an hour from now? 4:42 p.m. - 2001-11-23 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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