Thanksgiving

Tonight I am feeling extremely thankful for everything I have in my life. Yes, we should all be thankful everyday, yes yes. But we're not. Sometimes I complain about this. Other times I bitch about that. Sometimes I'm jealous that people have what I want. Other times I'm filled with an overwhelming need to just...want.

Tonight I ask for nothing.

Tonight I went over to the drugstore to buy soap. I was thankful to have money to buy the soap. And a big drugstore to buy the soap. A drugstore!! With enough drugs to keep a whole town painfree. And then I drove home. In a car!! In a vehicle that actually takes me places, and takes my friends places. A vehicle that gives me freedom. And then I came home to my apt...a roof over my head. A head which, is full of hair! I should be so lucky to have so much hair, while people are losing handfuls of it by the minute, whether it be cancer patients, balding men, or even balding women! I have gas to cook food and keep me warm, a fridge full of food. A TV! A computer!! I have a computer to blog with. I have a full time job to wake up for. With people that I like. People that I look forward to seeing. I work with music videos all day for crying out loud. How many people get to do that??? I have my family, my dear dear friends, and my health. (ok that last one is a bit shaky, but for the most part it's there) I'm thankful to be of normal height, to have a functional brain (though some may argue otherwise, but for the most part, its functional), to have all my extremeties available to me. I'm lucky that this week, I have no annoying little papercuts on my hands. I mean really, I can go on and on.

Tonight, I am overcome with a sense of gratitude and appreciation. Most people know who to ultimately thank in situations like these. But alas, I am not tight with God, or God Jr. Allah does not come over for tea. The last time Buddha and I had a heart to heart was probably in my past life, if I had one. For me, I do not know who is responsible for my great fortune, except possibly myself. But all this seems to be bigger than I, and way beyond me and my magical powers. So I will send it out to the great internet void who, with all its spam and viral video capabilities, will surely find whoever or whatever is responsible, and let them know that I'm grateful, I'm thankful, I'm appreciative, for everything I have tonight.

Am running out of DVDs to watch while I camp on the couch.

Interesting fact: did you guys know that Dr. Callie Torres, before working at the Seattle Grace Hospital, was actually THE grocery checker Rose "what-a-beautiful-name-Rose" in you've got mail? It's always nice to see people move their way up. I mean really, from the grocery checker to surgeon? That is quite the jump.

I've always thought I had a good solid DVD collection. I only stock it up with movies I know I will watch over and over, in case of rainy days, sick days, or an emergency broadcast system type of lock-yourself-in-your-house days. And of course, the collection has its share of chick flicks, which I always thought were solid well made chick flicks until I recently re-watched some of them.

Take The Wedding Singer, for instance. Instantly, you think: classic, right? It's got the funny, it's got the silly, it's got the romance, its got the Billy Idol, a rapping granny with meatballs...what more can you ask for? But after watching it again recently, I think I fell out of love with it. This last time, it struck me that Drew Barrymore's character must have been written by a man. And you know what? I just imdb'd it, and surprise surprise, I'm right. I'll save you some time, and not get into my "closet feminist" tirade, but just watch the movie, you'll know what I mean.

And then there's You've Got Mail, my absolute favorite chick flick of all. I still think its wonderfully written and executed and all that, but the ending always leaves me a little perturbed. So Kathleen Kelly finally realizes that the man she's been exchanging emails with is actually her business nemesis turned friend turned possible love connection Joe Fox. And what does she say in this moment of realization? "I wanted it to be you. I wanted it to be you so badly." Which, yknow, is kinda sweet in the moment since we know that her relationship has blossomed with Joe Fox. But seriously, does she not see that he's been manipulating her throughout their whole relationship? He pretty much tricked her into liking him.

Someday I'd like to see the "After Ending," the story that doesn't get told as the credits roll. If I ever run into Nora Ephron, which I hope I will someday, I will have to grill her about this ending.

Until then, the balcony is closed.

Yesterday I decided to have some hot water and honey, and as soon as I had my first sip, I was reminded of New Jersey. Other things that remind me of new jersey? Raisin bran, and cheesy doritos. Funny thing how these memories work.

Yesterday I sneezed in the morning and I swear, it felt like a bomb went off in my head. I had to take several seconds to gather myself and my composure. I vowed then never to sneeze again.

8 hours later, I forgot my vow, and sneezed again. Another bomb off in my head, and another few seconds to regroup, plus another few more seconds to reprimand myself for breaking the vow.

Sneezing is the worst when you're trying to drive. Do you realize that you always sneeze with your eyes closed? And now that I've said that, you're going to try to sneeze with your eye open, just to prove me wrong. Well don't, they'll pop out. Just take my word for it. Whenever I sneeze in the car I feel like I'm going to get in an accident. For that few seconds I am in the dark...unable to see the baby in the street, or the car merging into my lane, or that sudden red light. Imagine if everyone in their cars sneezed at the same time. There would be pure chaos. Pandemonium. Someone should make that into a movie...

I'm not a smoker, so I'm not the most knowledgeable about these sorts of things, but,

I was just at the gas station, behind a guy who bought 6 packs of cigarettes from the attendant, stacked them up, and then went on his merry way. And while I was watching him stack the packs, it suddenly dawned on me: why would they sell such thing as cigarettes at a place loaded with fuel where anyone can just light up and possibly blow themselves - as well as others -up into little bitty pieces? Grocery stores, yes. 7-11s, yes. But gas stations?? I guess its not like anyone would light up at the gas station, but still, it boggles my mind.

So while people are quickly going down one at a time around me in this sick season, I thought I was untouchable, with some sort of super immunity system. I wash my hands, I take the nasty zinc pills, I remain in a positive mental state of non-sickness.
Well, turns out that I'm just slow...as with everything else. Joke's on me - haha.

Ok.

I just realized something: I've lost my inner dialogue.

No. I mean, its still there. I hear it all the time. I just lost the ability to blog my inner dialogue, and I think i know what happened. I used to blog alot more when I was living sex and the city (as in, living vicariously through dvds). I'd picture myself as carrie bradshaw, posing big questions, wondering why people do this or that, narrating my own life, my friends lives, the lives of people next to me in line at the grocery store. I didn't have a snazzy laptop like she did, but I had my thoughts, and I'd blog inside my head all the time, and thus the plentiful posts.

So what happened, you ask?

An American Girl In Paris, that's what. Big season 6 finale, mr big vs petrovsky, and of course, of course, Paris. And then that was it! The girls were just like that, *poof* gone from my life. Suddenly, my inner thoughts to myself transferred into words and sentences and paragraphs into this box with wires and googles and mice suddenly seemed completely ridiculous. It's because I didn't have carrie's inner dialogue anymore alongside mine, to justify my own inner dialogue so i don't seem all THAT crazy. And slowly, slowly, i stopped watching TV.

And I know what you're thinking. The fact that I'm even bringing up sex and the city is really ALL THAT CRAZY. But can it be? This crazy invention that we call television has become my muse?

No, it can't be. Because the things I blogged about were still drawn from life experiences, it wasn't all TV related.

So what really happened?

I don't know. I guess I'm still trying to figure that out. But for now, this is what I've got.