My week with slow internet has been cool and fun

I'm thankful for the strings section at the end of Hyperballad by Bjork, for the red bead necklace that used to be my best friends' (but who gave them to me because I love them so much), for The Brady Bunch and The Mighty Boosh and 91.5 Smooth FM, for my man and his shadow walking up my front steps in the cold and the dark, for the tiny minor third that Ben Howard 'woah's in his song Everything, for Colin Hay and his song There's Water Over You and for my friend who showed it to me. I'm thankful for peanut butter (especially on toast), for Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov and The Arrival of the Bee Box by Sylvia Plath, for Joni Mitchell and Bon Iver and The Beatles, for the smell of hairspray, for the gym I go to and the treadmill in my house and the footpath next to the road that I run along, for the housing estate that I like to take my dog on a walk through around 5PM when you can smell Coles chicken schnitzel from the street, and for my family who just love me despite everything. I'm thankful for band, gigs and practice and writing music, giggling in the back seat all squashed into one car, leaning and elbowing each other around corners and toasting ourselves with slices of peanut buttered-bread in lieu of our single's online release, for the fact that they know all the intricate details of my emotional state at any one time and let me write lyrics about it, and at the same time, let me probe their brains for feelings that I can write about as well. I'm thankful for the sun that wakes me up every morning really early because I have see-through curtains, for full moon that shines through my window and keeps me awake for the same reason, for my uni and all the wonderful sacred things I get to do and learn about there, for the talented beautiful people I get to study with, for Photo Booth on Mac and Sibelius 6 and Spotify and even Facebook, for Frida Kahlo and Lady Gaga and fake flowers and Christian the lion and killer whales, for little kids who learn and absorb like sponges and sing and dance and do cartwheels, for plaits, for bobby pins, for high heels and velvet and Aesop shampoo and conditioner, for horseriding boots and Debussy's Clair de Lune and grand pianos with candlestick holders, for customised coffee mugs and sofa beds and crying and laughing and that wonderful knowing of the fact that we are all made of the same material as stars, and every atom of me is every atom of everyone and everything I love, and we are all connected.