I am in New Hampshire

(This is an old post. A few weeks after I'M HAVING A MOMENT.)

I am in New Hampshire. You may have gleaned this from the title of this post.

Anyway.

Tonight I had dinner with my grandma, my mother, and a couple who are friends with my grandma.

This couple consisted of a woman who was sweet enough, but who fell onto a small table at one point, knocking down several pictures and a lamp.

Her husband was a large bald man, who identified as "very" republican.

Because I live in a very civilized, advanced community, republicans have been a rarity in my childhood. Watching this man (Al. His name was actually Al.) was like watching some sort of primitive beast that frightens and fascinates you at the same time. Like a platypus, or Nessie.

However, hearing him actually voice political views was like watching a small, demented child poke itself in the eye with a spoon. And like with a demented child, you could take away the spoon, but they will go and find a stick or a fork to satisfy their desire for simple, repetitive movement.

When his wife told me she "knew the perfect boy for me," he eyed me carefully from his pink checkered armchair, ready to pounce if I showed even the slightest sign of lesbian-ness.

Then, when my mom said I used to be vegan, he looked positively alarmed and it took his wife unexpectedly collapsing for him to snap out of his "but...meat" trance.

During dinner, all I could think about were gay people and immigrants. I kept trying to steer the conversation back to political talk, but to no avail. However, my still emotionally-twisted mind took "gay people" to mean "THINK ABOUT BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN AND FEEL PAAAIIIINNN."

It didn't work out for me.

Just to satisfy my mind, which was beginning to shrivel and die without proper emotion-feeding, I said I had to go to the bathroom and stood there, looking at Brokeback Mountain pictures until my mind started to wake up again.

Here is what my mind does when forced to think about things with this level of emotion. When they come up, I try to not think about them. It doesn't work. They are there. But they are like a person freezing in a blizzard. They get a fire and are momentarily placated. Then they lose the fire and the chill seeps back into their body.

So I have to constantly provide my sad, demented mind with fire, lest it shuts down completely and I lose all sense of personality and knowledge and sit on the floor, hugging a pillow and rocking silently.

Or screaming loudly.

Whilst poking myself in the eye with a spoon.

UPDATE: I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this post to return to Brokeback Mountain. But it did. Because I am still having PTSD from feelings-overload, and I drank a ginger beer earlier that turned out to be alcoholic and my inexperienced brain didn't know how it felt about that. Apparently alcohol makes me ramble. Also, I didn't have anything else to talk about. This is the most exciting thing that happened all day.

Seriously. If I were to talk about the other things that happened today, this would just be: "DREW PICTURES! ATE CAKE! TOOK NAP! ATE CAKE! READ BOOK! ATE CAKE!"

UPDATE: I eat a lot of cake