Or something poetic like that.

Light creeping down the stairs, like me. Or something poetic like that.

Happy Thanksgiving, all! Sorry I haven't been writing as much lately. Things haven't been busy, so I guess my only excuse is that I was fully enjoying my lack of stuff to do now that the show is over.
So this morning, I woke up (surprise surprise, I know it's a dumb sentence) but no one woke me up. No alarm, or parent, or sibling; it was just me, and the sun in my eye. That almost never happens; especially not after lacking sleep, on a Saturday, or when I'm sick. Hm.
I've been listening to a new podcast: The Orbiting Human Circus (Of The Air), produced by the same people who do Night Vale. I haven't been a super big fan of the past two shows they put out (Within the Wires, and Alice isn't Dead), but I really love this one. It's amazing music (mainly from Julian Koster and The Music Tapes) is INCREDIBLE, and the whole story is endearing and creepy and comforting in this new way. It reminds me of a radio show from the 30s, The Invention of Hugo Cabret, Christmas lights, theater. It has been my podcast to sleep for the past couple nights.
There is something about blogging; do you remember my Thanksgiving post last year? It was just a Polyvore collage saying 'Happy thanksgiving readers!' or something like that. Because I blogged about it, I can remember exactly what I was thinking about then, what my aesthetic was, how I wanted to dress, what I was working on, etc. I feel like I'm reliving it to some extent because I remember it; so none of the ideas are original, they are just being repeated because it feels like that right now. Maybe this is one of the purest forms of nostalgia, or something weepy and poetic like that; the kind of nostalgia you get to re-experience instead of just pine after. Though I think it's always like that around the Holiday's. We get out the same decorations, visit the same family, or don't; but acknowledge that it's happening the same way it does every year. I like it. Each year I'm the same person, but with some additions and subtractions.
It reminds me of something we were talking about in English class; we were focusing on Native American literature, and were reading a contemporary piece by N. Scott Momaday. Our teacher was explaining to us how different people experience/describe time; Momaday calls his version of time 'burrito time'. All of time is in this one burrito; it isn't linear the way most people see it, so we can have experiences with our ancestors who we didn't technically know.
I, of course, had to make a dumb joke about it (How do you know it's burrito time? Because you hear the taco bell) but it did make me think. I suppose I've thought of time linearly, but I like to think of time more in the aspect of personal history. Like jenga blocks. (this will all tie in soon, I promise) each year/milestone adds more blocks/layers. Sometimes things are removed from the tower; relationships,memories, abilities and you have to fill it with something or it will fall over. Like a new memory to make it feel better, or a new person, etc. Everyone's jenga towers are either on top of, combined with, or just existing by everyone else's; family, friends, or strangers. That's where the idea that we are always the same people comes from. I guess.
That got a lot longer than I expected, but you know. It's early in the morning and burrito time.
Happy almost over November, readers!