No hell below us.
Above us, only sky.
John Lennon reminds me a lot of Jesus.
He said a lot of things and did a lot of things that many people today quote and put on merchandise and paste on their social networking sites because they like it. But they fail to execute any of his suggestions.
I wish I got my John Lennon shirt back when I broke up with Sean. Now, the only connection I have to it is seeing it in shoved between the cracks of a door in the background of his rave pictures.
Happy Thanksgiving.
I have a bad hunch about this one, though.
People get off work for holidays a lot, but I love how life gets ten billion times more hectic, dramatic, and overall stupid once the holidays hit. Everyone has to have their panties in a bunch for some stupid reason, whether it be because they insist everyone else glorifies their Christ in Christmas, they're cranky from being up since three in the morning for "early bird specials" at the mall, they maxed out their credit card - again, or they have to see family they don't want to see. Happy holidays seem so far from it.
This is my first year of running around on a holiday. Aaron has decided that we will gain superhuman powers and attend three feasts that occur not only on the same day, but during the same 3-4 hours. Only we haven't gotten those superhuman powers quite yet. Therefore it doesn't feel much like a holiday. More like a new job. Requirements? Bring. Baby. Everywhere. From Simpsonville to Greer to Hilcrest. The whole family thing gets ridiculous. Christmases will, eventually, be hell.
Anyway.
Here I am. Typing away as I wait for my spontaneous key lime pie [not made with key limes, by the way] to cool down so I can dress it and store it. Tomorrow will be filled to the brim of finishing a dessert I probably won't get to eat [chocolate bread pudding, yum!], driving, driving, driving, seeing people, driving, eating food, driving, driving, eating food, eating food, PLEASE LET ME NAP. Thanksgiving is nothing without a nap.
Time to search for sleep. Something which google is surprisingly unhelpful with.
All I know is that I miss myself.
