This is probably my least Christmas-y Christmas yet. At least in Istanbul Laura and I met to commiserate and eat pasta (which turned out to be surprisingly spicy). Right now I feel like I am reliving yesterday. I’ve come to the same coffee shop (of course, who else would be open on Xmas? Starbuck’s doesn’t count) at the same time to work on the same thing (U Denver application) and wearing almost the same outfit. I am, however, sitting at a different table and sipping a Dutch hot chocolate (they forgot the whip cream but I won’t complain) instead of a Mexican mocha. I did open gifts from Sis and Mom (intrigued to try Mom’s homemade peppermint body butter) and skype earlier.

I read about the attacks on Santa’s in Turkey. Apparently, they weren’t anticapitalist gestures but acts by fundamentalist Muslims.

I also need to finish my letter to my prison pen pal. He is demanding a juicy story from Turkey, and I’ve come up with something for him. A story I shared with Matty at work. We get bored and talk about sex, etc. Mostly sex but a certain amount of etc.

I woke to the sound of angry yelling and slamming doors, as my roommate and his gf were having it out.Apparently, he got a mini Christmas tree for her yesterday, then when she changed plans on him and got testy he “gave” the tree to his dog, taking a picture of the dog pissing on the tree. I had to laugh at that.

Must order transcripts; must order transcripts; must order transcripts online. I have a strong psychological resistance to this particular duty of navigating bureaucracy. Just. do. it. dude.

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