Thanksgiving Journal Entry
JOURNAL ENTRY
28 November, 2019
Written on the spot. Riffing. Writing To Write. Enjoy.
It's now 9:05 p.m on Thanksgiving. The balloons had already made their way down 6th Avenue and the turkey has long been hunted, feathered, gutted, crisped, carved, and served. Now I sit on the couch with my larger than average sized tea mug empty, besides the residue of the liquid left saturated from the tea bag lying at the bottom. Elf, the movie staring Will Ferrell, plays in the background. This is a Thanksgiving tradition in my family amongst my sisters and I -We watch it every year after the guest, usually just my aunt and Mamie, part ways with arms full of leftovers and pans they brought home to fit the salmon and ratatouille.
Thanksgiving use to be a party of nine. Last year we sat four. This year eight. Families change, but traditions don't, for no matter how many place mats sit at our table Elf still goes on, and an empty tea mug still posses the warmth to soothe my stomach.
Tomorrow, Black Friday we call it in America - I don't know why I mention this here, for I did not mention the United States earlier and Thanksgiving is an American holiday. Let's carry on. - In our house we usually decorate the house for Christmas on Black Friday, avoid the shopping centers. Isn't hosting your siblings and family for the few days of Thanksgiving and then the thought of seeing them again in a few weeks for the winter holidays mayhem enough? Why throw yourself into the Black Friday frenzy to save a few bucks- do your relatives laundry and perhaps you'll find some money in their pockets.
Christmas decorating in house has been passed down to my twin sister, Lauren and I, as we are the youngest but youngest being twenty-two and everyone now is too old and busy to be doing other things than getting glitter bombed by boxes from the attic. We wear old Christmas sweaters, Santa hats and our voices make you loose appetites for leftovers but hungry for Johnny Mathis; the only time in our life that we seem to be.
I could tell that the season of giving was upon us earlier this week. Mother Nature gave us, Boston, a brief break in the weather with two beautiful 50/60 degree, sunny days; I noted in my journal as I was walking through the Boston Public Garden the weather as following,
When I walk around Boston I usually have my camera in my hand or at my hip. A pen is in my mouth or in-between my fingers, uncapped marking up my skin or shirt unaware to me until I get back to the apartment. A white notebook with a blue whale on the cover, held together by three staples is what I use to currently write down my thoughts, poems, observations, and sketches; it fits perfectly in my camera case. On this particular walk I started recording at 2:56 p.m in a graveyard. I find it amusing; life and death. Squirrels run wild in the city, and wild on the gravestones of the deceased dating back to the 1700s. It is as if these headstones are their playground, leaping from stone to stone.
I admire the squirrels. I might have said it in a post before, but I'll say it again, they are just as naive as we are. Trying to make it in the city, skittish are some but others are bold and ask for handouts. You have the thin squirrels, the fat ones. The ones who will eat the red pepper out of your hand that you offer it and the one that will refuse it and would rather eat the garbage. Some travel alone, others in groups, sometimes just pairs. We are more like squirrels that we think and I am not fully diving into this thought because I have not fully examined it in full myself, but I'm confident in it. * I also noted in my journal a passerby only feeding a smaller squirrel, but "big squirrels get hungry too".
The garden lit gold and all walks of life were out, the young, the couples, the fur and four legged... I found myself taking my camera out at a European Beech tree wearing all kinds of hearts on its sleeve. "S+M" surrounded in a heart. "A+M" carved in the thick in diameters impressionable bark. These initials left a lot to the imagination. First the names; Sally and Matt? Sam and Mary? Arnold and Mary? (two timing Mary!?) Second; were they still together? Was caving the heart around the initials worth it? How long did the love last? I was beginning to hope for "MRW" the initials of someone whom did not carve their name with anyone or symboled with an organ or idea of love.
I didn't muddle too long on the idea of the love life of the tree carvers. My feet wanted to travel and my ears wanted to listen.
It's now getting to the end of the movie and I have to end my writing. As it is Thanksgiving I will mention a few things I'm thankful for this year. In this past year I have been accepted and have been attending Emerson College, I am also thankful to have to opportunity to get an education- I do take it for granted sometimes. I am thankful for the friends I have made this year, those who really took me in and accepted me for my wit, my downfalls, music ramble, and quirks. I am thankful for the music this year in concerts I have been to and those who have gone with me at shows and those who have talked to me at shows when I go alone. I am thankful for the travel this year. Lastly, I am thankful for the endless curiosity I have and the ability to write these entries and have an audience read and respond to them. The list is endless, which is another thing I'm thankful for. Thank you for putting up with my nonsense articles that flow without flow.
Happy Thanksgiving, I'm getting told to wrap this up!
-L
28 November, 2019
Written on the spot. Riffing. Writing To Write. Enjoy.
It's now 9:05 p.m on Thanksgiving. The balloons had already made their way down 6th Avenue and the turkey has long been hunted, feathered, gutted, crisped, carved, and served. Now I sit on the couch with my larger than average sized tea mug empty, besides the residue of the liquid left saturated from the tea bag lying at the bottom. Elf, the movie staring Will Ferrell, plays in the background. This is a Thanksgiving tradition in my family amongst my sisters and I -We watch it every year after the guest, usually just my aunt and Mamie, part ways with arms full of leftovers and pans they brought home to fit the salmon and ratatouille.
Thanksgiving use to be a party of nine. Last year we sat four. This year eight. Families change, but traditions don't, for no matter how many place mats sit at our table Elf still goes on, and an empty tea mug still posses the warmth to soothe my stomach.
Tomorrow, Black Friday we call it in America - I don't know why I mention this here, for I did not mention the United States earlier and Thanksgiving is an American holiday. Let's carry on. - In our house we usually decorate the house for Christmas on Black Friday, avoid the shopping centers. Isn't hosting your siblings and family for the few days of Thanksgiving and then the thought of seeing them again in a few weeks for the winter holidays mayhem enough? Why throw yourself into the Black Friday frenzy to save a few bucks- do your relatives laundry and perhaps you'll find some money in their pockets.
Christmas decorating in house has been passed down to my twin sister, Lauren and I, as we are the youngest but youngest being twenty-two and everyone now is too old and busy to be doing other things than getting glitter bombed by boxes from the attic. We wear old Christmas sweaters, Santa hats and our voices make you loose appetites for leftovers but hungry for Johnny Mathis; the only time in our life that we seem to be.
I could tell that the season of giving was upon us earlier this week. Mother Nature gave us, Boston, a brief break in the weather with two beautiful 50/60 degree, sunny days; I noted in my journal as I was walking through the Boston Public Garden the weather as following,
"Agreed, or recognized as Bostons favorite weather. Something to be thankful for on this week of Thanksgiving."I also recorded the temperature to be 60 degrees Fahrenheit and partly cloudy (via iPhone weather app) and bulleted; -Jackets peeled -birds, squirrels fed -Dogs out - Suns out -Dare to wear color again! (Dogs can't. The three black labs being walked are still are wearing black)
When I walk around Boston I usually have my camera in my hand or at my hip. A pen is in my mouth or in-between my fingers, uncapped marking up my skin or shirt unaware to me until I get back to the apartment. A white notebook with a blue whale on the cover, held together by three staples is what I use to currently write down my thoughts, poems, observations, and sketches; it fits perfectly in my camera case. On this particular walk I started recording at 2:56 p.m in a graveyard. I find it amusing; life and death. Squirrels run wild in the city, and wild on the gravestones of the deceased dating back to the 1700s. It is as if these headstones are their playground, leaping from stone to stone.
I admire the squirrels. I might have said it in a post before, but I'll say it again, they are just as naive as we are. Trying to make it in the city, skittish are some but others are bold and ask for handouts. You have the thin squirrels, the fat ones. The ones who will eat the red pepper out of your hand that you offer it and the one that will refuse it and would rather eat the garbage. Some travel alone, others in groups, sometimes just pairs. We are more like squirrels that we think and I am not fully diving into this thought because I have not fully examined it in full myself, but I'm confident in it. * I also noted in my journal a passerby only feeding a smaller squirrel, but "big squirrels get hungry too".
The garden lit gold and all walks of life were out, the young, the couples, the fur and four legged... I found myself taking my camera out at a European Beech tree wearing all kinds of hearts on its sleeve. "S+M" surrounded in a heart. "A+M" carved in the thick in diameters impressionable bark. These initials left a lot to the imagination. First the names; Sally and Matt? Sam and Mary? Arnold and Mary? (two timing Mary!?) Second; were they still together? Was caving the heart around the initials worth it? How long did the love last? I was beginning to hope for "MRW" the initials of someone whom did not carve their name with anyone or symboled with an organ or idea of love.
I didn't muddle too long on the idea of the love life of the tree carvers. My feet wanted to travel and my ears wanted to listen.
"Air when leaves crunch"I wrote walking by the Four Seasons Hotel, crinkling leaves at the heels of my sneakers. A very amusing sound and feel that was I was thankful for. Turns out I wasn't the only one, for a rumble of what sounded like a broken phone call rustled in front of me as mother and child munched their way through the leaves and into the garden.
It's now getting to the end of the movie and I have to end my writing. As it is Thanksgiving I will mention a few things I'm thankful for this year. In this past year I have been accepted and have been attending Emerson College, I am also thankful to have to opportunity to get an education- I do take it for granted sometimes. I am thankful for the friends I have made this year, those who really took me in and accepted me for my wit, my downfalls, music ramble, and quirks. I am thankful for the music this year in concerts I have been to and those who have gone with me at shows and those who have talked to me at shows when I go alone. I am thankful for the travel this year. Lastly, I am thankful for the endless curiosity I have and the ability to write these entries and have an audience read and respond to them. The list is endless, which is another thing I'm thankful for. Thank you for putting up with my nonsense articles that flow without flow.
Happy Thanksgiving, I'm getting told to wrap this up!
-L
