Thanksgiving

Meanwhile, in the UK:

I'm not American. I never will be. Whatever happens, even if one day I get citizenship (that's more funny that it is scary, to me. I pledge allegiance to lolcats), I will always think of myself as English. That's not a political statement; English rather than British, or a UK Citizen. I just grew up understanding that the country I lived in was called England, and the language I spoke was English. Seemed pretty logical. ANYWAY.

English. So I didn't do anything for Thanksgiving today, as it's just a regular Thursday. Cold as balls, but pretty ordinary.

Thanksgiving is a strange holiday. The reasoning behind it doesn't seem particularly American (being thankful for what you have instead of the endless pursuit of the Almighty More? What is this? Socialism?), though the history and gluttony fit the bill pretty well.


Regardless of the actual history; the whitewashed, school-play history and the corporate monolith that the long weekend has become, the idea that a day should be set aside for being thankful (or grateful, for the non-grammatically-challenged, I guess) for those things in life we normally take for granted is a fundamentally good one. And surprising, considering its North American origins (you're not escaping my backhanded compliments here, Canada).

So. I am currently grateful for:

- The new Girl Talk album being available to download for free, and the great mood it put me in on my way to work this morning.

- Coffee

- A brother with more musical instruments than he has room for in London. Yay overspill!

- Charles Bukowski

- A comb. You know, it's the little things that you'll miss when they're gone.

- The magic of instantaneous transatlantic communication

- The small American girl with whom I communicate. This one I am most grateful for. I ain't gonna go into that whole "I don't know what I'd do without her" schtick, because I do, in fact, know exactly what my life would be like without her. I would be sitting right here, doing exactly this, except I'd probably be drunk for no good reason, and wondering how, in all honesty, it is possible for people to live like this for fifty years at a time.

I was going to say something along the lines of her having given me new life, but there's strange Freudian connotations about women giving you life that I'm not sure I want to get into.

So that's it. Mostly, I'm grateful for the eternal and beautiful Her.