before i sat down, i opened my door just a smidgen. my room is the warmest in the house, and my tolerance for a more 'comfortable' air has never been well managed. we hung up some christmas lights today - two strings around the four columns in the living room, and one around the big kitchen window. even if we didn't have the heat cranked, our house could be warmed by the richness the lights give off. and i guess the holiday cheer isn't so bad, either.

nothing seems to hold my attention quite tight enough for me to concentrate on anything in particular. i had had enough of roaming around on the hardwood of this house, so i got in my car and i drove. i drove east. i took the east river road to summit and it wasn't until i was on my way back home that i could finally feel my fingers again. but then i realized, it wasn't my fingers i was concerned about feeling again.

i watch old movies. i make pots of coffee, sometimes cups of hot cocoa. i light candles, i use blankets and i pray for snow.... alone. last night, i crossed my legs under a table at the bar, and i wanted a second beer, maybe four or five. but the other girls didn't, so we dined & ditched and ran in heels between two white pedestrian lines and threw a few looks over our shoulders to make sure the hunkier bartender wasn't going to hunt us for our $12 bill. i got home and preferred drunk over sober but went to bed anyway, my left arm extended, reaching for what always turns out to be an empty space.

more than anyone, i should understand words and language. therefore, i should understand meanings and.... life. but sometimes, i feel so, so uneducated.