I swear, I love you all, I'll reply to my notes... eventually...
No turkey this year. What a shame... I hate turkey anyway! The butcher we bought it at gave us a mouldy one that smelled. And we didn't know about it until today, two days after buying it (we refridgerated it and everything, but they probably never did... they didn't even put it in plastic in the box, and it was really bloody inside because of that). So, we had to go out for Thanksgiving to a restaurant down the street. It was kinda nice though, I got to eat ham instead of turkey, and their potatoes were *delicious*.
Of course, I am very fond of any kind of potato. I even like tatertots, which have the uncanny texture of fish. And I hate fish. But I'm Irish, how does that work? We're supposed to love fish and potatoes. Oh, no, wait, that's right! We only fish because the British who enslaved us for thousands of years (yes, thousands) made us do it for them! And then disguised it in the form of puppet monarchies run by my family, the Kennedys! We were blinded... *snaps fingers* Darn Brits. If I didn't love their accents, television shows, literature, music, akwardness, and occasional magnificient actor (NOT Orlando Bloom, ick!), I'd be angry with them. But, thanks to accents, Mr. Bean and My Hero and Flying Circus and Eastenders, George Eliot and Charles Dickens, Sting, Pancake Day, and Hugh Dancy, I don't have to! Oh, and of course, how could I forget, Tony Blair! I LOVE Tony Blair. See, I love England.
I heard London's getting rid of the Double Deckers. I know that they're terribly touristy and lame, but I *oh-so* wanted to ride one. Darn you England! Enslave my people and then ruin my dreams! Sorry. Digression is bad.
I feel really, really sick. Strep throat. Streptococus, as it's less-than-traditionally called. Only my test came out negative. My tests always come out negative, and I never have a fever! But I'm always sick! I'm coughing, and sneezing, not keeping food in really well, and my throat is drier and itchier and scratchier than ever! Ugh! Last night I couldn't sleep, I was far too sick. I wore a heavy shirt and shorts to bed, and the night turned out warmer than usual, and I had a nightmare that I'll talk about next, and broke out into a cold sweat. So I just read the book next to my bed (conveniently Daniel Deronda, I finally passed the beginning stages about Gwendolen Harleth and got to that part where the tutor Scotsman told Daniel that the "nephews" of Saints were all sons... which was a brilliant move considering Daniel lives with his uncle...) (I know, I'm a nerd) all night, and thought about how I'm perfecting my Latino accent. Don't ask. All of a sudden I'm overcome with a fascination of Wandissimo Magnifico and Puss in Boots. They're teaching me the way to sounding like a Latino Lover, because that was one of the stereotyped accents on my list to learn. So, now I've gotten down two seperate British accents, Scottish, Irish, French, and Latin (not so much the whiny Mexican one that the chiwawah uses, but the deep and affected one, probably more Spanish than Mexican, though a lot of Mexicans have it too). Next: Canadian, Australian (I swear to heaven, it's harder than it seems), Russian, German, and maybe something from the East. I just adore picking up on new stresses and tenses and inflections from all over the world, all through just watching a couple of movies. I can watch the Spanish channel sometimes to get the roll of certain sounds, but you really need to hear them speak English before you transfer their native sound to your language. The hard "r" in Gaelic is very present in Irish, too, it's soooo cool!
Anyway, my dream. I dreamt that my AP English class went on vacation together to a beach resort in the deep south. And the water was dirty, and the sky dark, so we spent our first day indoors. First we went through the giant aquarium, one of the ones where there's even water above you that you can see, and instead of fish, there were dead bodies floating along the top of the water, and casting shadows over us. And then we went to the cafeteria for food, and there were three seperate islands for food (islands here being stands, not the actual body of land), one for beef, one for ham, and one for lizard. And the only line that wasn't full was the lizard line. So I got in that line, and I had to watch the cooks behind the counters dropping the live lizards into blenders, and I could smell their flesh and could see their blood on the floor. And I thought it was disgusting and cruel, so I refused to eat it, and just slid my tray down the counter until I came to the drinks. I picked up a paper cup, and kept trying to pour in some Diet Pepsi, but kept getting Lizard Coffee. And I started to cry, because I could see the lizard bits floating around in it, and all I wanted was the Pepsi. But I had to pay for it, because the line kept moving, and I sat down at the table where the rest of my class sat, but they all loved their lizard burgers and lizard potatoes and lizard coffee. Later on we all went combing the beach, and I wandered off on my own and found that the sand formed a lot of different little pathways and causeways through the ocean that one could walk on and not get wet. So I started walking along one that paralleled the line of the beach, but I found that eventually the beach line rose a few feet above my head, and eventually my little pathway (barely wide enough to walk on) started to decline into the water. I couldn't turn around without falling in, because I realised in terror that the water dropped off on either side so deeply that I couldn't see the bottom. Eventually I was up to my knees in water, and I couldn't reach the beach above my head, and no one heard me crying for help, and all I could see were the dead lizards around my ankles floating on the waves, and I tried scooping them up to toss them above me to saftey, but the fish kept biting my hands and arms. And then I realised that the sand I was walking on was the top of the tunnel visitors walk through (the aquarium), and that the lizards were actually the dead human bodies that I had seen before. Then I fell, felt the water in my lungs, and woke up drenched in sweat. Which was reassuring, I can tell you.
I think it may have meant that I feel persecuted for taking a different path than other people, and I know that death (especially drowning) in a dream is a really bad symbol. It can either mean that a part of myself is dying, or that I feel like it will. But I don't feel that way... maybe I'm just sick. But I need to stop having dreams like that! Supposedly dreams that traumatic can actually lead to problems in the waking life because the REM state of mind can be a very influential and powerful one. Sometimes people suffer heartattacks due to a death-dream. But, luckily, I'm young and able-bodied. And I've always got books literally by my side to keep me company when I'm down. Well, more like to calm me down.
Anyway, I've taken up enough of your time. I feel like playing Sims 2. I know, I know. I'm a nerd. Tom Cruise and Sean Biggerstaff are going to get married! I'm so excited! My brother married his maid, and they had a son (I think), and I married Johnny Depp and we had twins (I named one Violet and one Klaus, just like from A Series of Unfortunate Events). I was going to kill off my husband for the fun of it, but I have to keep him around to do the housework while I do the fun stuff. *darn* Like shopping. Yep, you can shop in Sims 2. You could in Sims 1 with the Travel Expansion Pack, but it's not as fun. Anyway, I think I'll go through a normal generation of family before I do anything silly like starting fires and watching them burn to Death. And then have the Grim Reaper come over and throw a party in my house. It can happen. Also, men can be impregnated by aliens and have green children. And it's much easier to make your Sims look like you want them too, and you can even make special clothing and paintings and everything! I normally dislike playing most videogames (though, I must admit, Zelda rules... and Ratchet and Clank can be hilarious), but this one's pretty cool.
Wait, I was supposed to be leaving. Toodle-oo! (And guess who came to visit for Thanksgiving? And nearly got us all into a car-wreck because he was angry over a red-light? Yep. Holidays aren't fun. I feel like crying. But, remember, God abhors the bloodthirsty and deceitful man. And loves me. And you. And a dog named Boo.)