"Thanksgiving"

Dear friends,

Happy Thanksgiving. I hope you ate lots of mayonnaise and cream cheese-based foods.

I had a good day. I ate Thanksgiving foods and smiled Thanksgiving smiles and wore a Thanksgiving blazer. All in all, what a success.

Last year at this time, though, was quite different. Last year at this time included no Thanksgiving foods, smiles, or blazers. Last year at this time was, in fact, an abysmal sort of day.

I guess I'd say that drinking blueberry lager on the floor of my closet, alone, was the low point of Thanksgiving last year. Or maybe it was when I studied Church History notes in the mall parking garage in between the two movies that I went to see by myself. Or maybe it was when I went home and saw all the gladware containers stuffed with delicious turkey and potatoes and gravy that I could not eat. Suffice it to say, I would be unable to point to one of these events as the worst part of the day.

You see, my roommate had wanted me to be in attendance for a Thanksgiving meal in our house attended by her, her military boyfriend whom I once caught cleaning a gun in the room just opposite mine, and our older, hippie neighbor who had promised to bring a free-range turkey and to abstain from the bad energy contained within carbs.

"Hellz no," I said.

She cried, or at least got excessively weepy, and I retreated stubbornly to my bedroom. "I do not do things out of a sense of obligation," I thought. "Her excessive weepiness makes me feel obligated to change my mind, and thus I will not."

"I refuse to attend your Thanksgiving," I told her.

She looked at me like I had just taken an electric carving knife to one of the neighborhood cats.

"For the love of God, come to my Thanksgiving!" she exclaimed.

"I will not come to your Thanksgiving," I proclaimed.

It was not until later that I realized that not only did I now have nowhere to go for Thanksgiving, but I would also be unable to stay in my own house.

WHY WAS I NOT GOING TO HER THANKSGIVING?

I wanted to take it back. I so badly wanted to take it back. I could not take it back.

So I decided to go to movies about oppressed, black teenagers.

I got the large popcorn with extra butter. I trust you will understand.

The man taking my ticket judged me, of course, when I presented my ticket for The Blind Side, but I have to imagine he judged me even more when I presented my ticket three hours later for Precious. (I told this story to a friend the other day, and she exclaimed, "You saw Precious alone on Thanksgiving?!? That's like watching Schindler's List!") This is what the ticket-taking man thought as well. I knew this to be true when he coughed "Loser" into his hand and then pushed me into a wall.

All in all, though, it wasn't a terrible experience. I mean, besides the fact that I was horribly depressed. I actually found going to the movies alone to be kind of empowering. Plus, I was able to spend quality time in the parking garage, coming to terms with the intricacies of a Trinitarian God.

And yet, it was also not the greatest day I have ever had. When I felt as though I had waited an appropriate amount of time, I returned home. My roommate cheerfully asked me where I had been, to which I replied, "Out."

"Did you have a great Thanksgiving?"

"I reckon so."

Well, I reckon that I had a greater one this year. Probably because I had the Trinity all figured out this go-around. Oh, and like I said, I was wearing a Thanksgiving blazer.