I sat alone at a bar in a club last night, between sets, drinking Stella. Stella tastes like Tsingtao, and it was one of the few times that I have found myself feeling nostalgic for China. And not even China so much, just the night that Scott and I found ourselves drinking and dancing and babbling drunkenly until late into the night. My usual ease has gone on vacation and I notice that I'm stopping and starting sentences where once there would have been no trouble.
It makes me wonder, is all.
If you've ever wondered what the boy with the crooked smile looks like, I can tell you that he bears enough resemblance to the guy singing for Band of Horses that, when he walked in the first time, I found myself looking for a place to hide. Which I guess just goes to show how over that I'm not.
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and I think I'm being a little too cavalier about the whole thing. Last year I was completely twigged and over-organized. This year I'm going, "Well, I just had twenty people over a few weeks ago, and that was fine. Cooking dinner for almost that many won't be any big deal." Which is so, so wrong, and I need to get my act together. Also, I need to start my thankful list:
That I showed up two years ago with nothing but a car full of stuff and now find myself surrounded by the most amazing people I've ever known.
That there are people all over the country that will pet me like a kitten when I'm sad.
That Seattle is full of boys with tattoos.
That my family, if not happy, is at least healthy. Same goes for me, too.
That I have a job that I love and an apartment that I love in a city that I love.
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