Hello November

Did you notice it's November? I'm quite alright with you November, even though you get pigeon-holed and marginalized into being a glutenous gorge fest. I know you better November, I won't let that one Thursday define you, ok? Ok.

My only real concern with the change of months is I forgot to watch 'It's the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown!'.Which is very sad indeed. Clearly I know nothing of sincerity. What was I thinking? Charlie Brown defines holidays, if there isn't a Charlie Brown special about it, is it really a holiday worth acknowledging? -I'm lookin at you Black Friday, you charlatan-
I know about gratitude because of Charlie Brown's Thanksgiving. And the heartbreak of not getting Valentines? Covered by a sad boy in a hipster chic chevron shirt who oddly inspires me.

However back to the point. I'm very disappointed in myself. I only hope The Great Pumpkin is an understanding sort of fellow.

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Have you ever read Kerouac? Until recently, I must confess, I was largely ignorant to Jack Kerouac. Quite sad to be ignorant of someone who has such a lovely and oddly romantic kind of name.
Sometimes I just get struck with the idea in my head that I absolutely must read a certain book. Like when I was moved by some dystopian feminist spirit to read Margaret Atwood. And I tell you I was not disappointed by my literary intuition. Or when some romantic swain leaped up out of nowhere and made me read Hemingway and Fitzgerald. I'm not even sure why Kerouac, or where I got the notion I must become acquainted with him. But under the influence some disillusioned beatnik within my psyche, I read 'On the Road' by Jack Kerouac. -Doesn't that just roll off your tongue in the most satisfying way?-

It was good. I felt very soul searchy and pondery as I read it, which occasionally is a very good thing indeed. I suspect the connection to the story is being a restless 20 something that doesn't quite know what they want, only knows they want more from life.
Probably if I were a more sensible and in a more concrete stage of life I would find it wishy washy and silly.
However, if Jack had asked me, and he didn't on account he is very dead, I would tell him the general disregard and apathy towards women in the book did not sit well in me. Or did Margaret Atwood tell me to say that? Never mind.

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Today was spent with that cool cat Connie, thrift shopping and window shopping/browsing aimlessly. I can't quite put my finger on why it is I like thrift stores so much. Maybe it's the sketchy people who run them? Maybe it's the overwhelming scent of musk and cigarettes in the air? Maybe because it solidifes that deep inside, I'm an old lady. Yup that's it. Bring me your amber glass light fixtures circa 1960! Bring me your milkglass! Bring me your melamine dinnerware, daisy pattern please! Bring me your shag carpet rugs! Bring me your dark stained vanities!Tea sets and creepy figurines? Bring 'em over! And be a doll and throw in some doilies and nic-nacs as well.
I'd like to say I have classy taste in home decor. That someday my home would look like a Pinterest dream. But that's just not the life for me. It's much more likely you'll someday walk into my home and think it belongs to a 102 year old lady. I'm a thrift shop lady. I'll wear your grand-dad's clothes, and I'll look incredible.
There were a few finds in the thrift store that caught my eye and tempted me sorely. Hello, brown leather armchair, do you wanna party at my house? What's that amber glass swag lamp, you wanna be my friend?

Not the real ones obviously, just to give ya an idea. Drool as you feel right in your heart.

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On a somewhat less positive note, registering for school is a pain in the b-u-t-t. Well, it probably shouldn't be under normal circumstances. But it seems like all the ways for things to get bogged down and delayed have happened so far. If I thought I had kicked my cussing habit beforehand, I think it's safe to say I found it again in this whole process. After chasing down two transcripts from two different universities, which involved being on the phone far too long with both their registrars offices (Linda baby, I feel like we're best friends after that hour on the phone) (Sorry I was so curt on the phone Steve. but let's get real you weren't exactly a dreamboat to work with either)I'm still not even done with the whole process. I am finding out that the circumstances to me leaving college in the first place have made coming back quite an ordeal. If you can possibly avoid the diagnoses of a mental illness your freshman year, I highly recommend it. 

However, I have perfectly good faith, it'll all work out. There may be some cussing involved and a chance of tears shed, but it'll come together. Eventually. Maybe. I hope. 

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Don't you just love the crisper days of Autumn? You know, the ones that are just cold enough your cheeks feel a little bit rosier when you come inside. It's the kinda weather that makes you break out your scarves and boots. I love the crisper days, where the sky is absolutely clear and the sun is shining. It's the perfect blend of warm sun and cool air on your skin. 

It's the sort of weather that demands warm soup and fresh rolls! 

(Also no shave November, bring on the bearded beauties!)