Last night, I dreamt I was Icarus. Well, more or less. I was still me, but I had wings attached to my arms.
Thanksgiving was a bore through and through. Granted, I didn't expect it to be too thrilling. I spent most of it eating cereal and trying to connect to spotty wifi. I must've sent four hundred text messages and slept a total of thirty hours in the time span of three days. I was with family, and that was nice. But family gets old real quick. For some reason, I always expect my family to be drilling me with questions over what I've been doing with my life for the time they haven't seen me, a.k.a. the past three or four months. In reality, they didn't really seem concerned. The only question everyone asked me was, "How's school?" I just answered, "Good." I didn't get a chance to see the three people I really would've liked to see--my mom, my sister, and my cousin Rachel. They live three hours away and all had to work.
Yesterday my aunt and I went to the Salvation Army in search of cheap clothes. I bought two sweaters and two flannel shirts, all of which I could've gone without and saved ten dollars. I also spent too much on sleepwear at Ross. I have this habit of spending money on things I don't need. It's almost like an addiction. If I have money, I'm compelled to spend it. It's a habit I'm trying to break.
I forgot how much I like Christmas. I used to hate Christmas music, but now I find myself buying Josh Groban's Christmas CD and ripping my aunt's copy of Celine Dion's Christmas album onto my computuer. I watched "The Santa Clause" (the one with Tim Allen) over Thanksgiving. Then I watched part of the sequel last night.
Thank goodness for Turner Classic Movies. Something about watching black and white movies makes me feel more intellectual. Last night, I fell asleep to "The Picture of Dorian Gray." How that prompted a dream about Icarus is beyond me.
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