Thursday, January 12, 2006

Dear Professor Johnston,

I am seriously, really, really, really sorry about missing your class today!! I promise, it was not my fault at all!
First of all, when I looked at the schedule of classes, the wrong room was listed (why is this?!) I set off to look for that room in the science building. I wandered around completely confused for what seemed like eternities! When I found the science building, all the numbers had "S" in front of them. I wasn't looking for 'S'106; I was looking for room 106. (As listed in the [incorrect] schedule listing)
I thought, this must be some strange appendage on the science building, where they stuck an 'S' in front of the numbers to indicate it is said strange appendage.
So, I walked through a set of doors, thinking I must be in the real science building. Except, in this part of the building, all the numbers had 'A' in front of them. I couldn't understand it! I was beginning to panic! Finally, I stopped the professor in front of 'A'106. I fired off questions at her as if I were the Inquisition and she were a heretic! "Where am I?! Am I in the Science Building? What room is this?! Where is Room 106? Why do these all have 'A's in front of them?!!!" The panic was mounting in my voice, but she shut me up with one look; that halting ability that only professors seem to have.
"What class are you looking for?" She peered over her glasses calmly and cooly. I explained that I was supposed to be in the math department in the science building, and that my class was supposed to be in room 106. She pointed me to the correct classroom- which was, in fact, 'S'106. (Why in the hell didn't they just list it that way on the course schedule?!!)
I crept into class 20 minutes late. The professor, a short elderly man wearing a blue shirt and tie with khakis- the type of professor that just strikes you as a mild-mannered intellect from the beginning- also shot me the halting look. I hung my head guiltily and slid into a desk.
As I glanced over the blackboard and scribbled notes furiously to make up for my missed twenty minutes, something struck me. Why were we going over improper integrals? Why are all these problems about limit convergence and divergence? Well, we must simply be reviewing. Yes, it is standard on the first day of class to review material. This is good. It's good that he's reviewing these things, and he's a really great explainer. I like the way he teaches. I smile at the professor approvingly.
About twenty more minutes go by, and I'm thinking that I understand this divergence theorem better than I ever understood it before. Then I realize that he hasn't even mentioned the course name. Or his name. Am I sure that I'm in the right class? I sit back and look over my notes. This is Calculus III! I look at the blackboard. I swear, this has to be Calculus III!! I know this stuff! It's so familiar. It's just like.. Just like- - Just like the first day of Calc III!!!!
I look at the door. What do I do? I'm missing my real class! But I came in late. I can't just get up and leave! I've already disrupted class once, and what am I going to do, grab my things and dart out the door to disrupt this class again, only to go disrupt another class? Is that what I'm going to do? Is it?! I'm chastising myself at this point. I had better just sit here and take notes and pretend nothing is wrong. Another twenty minutes go by. The soft-spoken professor in the blue shirt and tie assigns homework, and I copy it down. I smile as I leave the class.
I wonder if they'll realize what happened...

Later, I searched for your office, professor Johnston. And you gave me the syllabus, even though you seemed very unhappy with me at the time. Again, Professor Johnston, I'm really, really sorry that I missed your class.
But maybe that Calc III class was just a tad more fun...
Well, don't worry, I'll see you on Tuesday, right on time.
Glad we cleared all this up!
~Confused Student # 'S' 576

Friday, November 18, 2005

Dear G:

Yep, you were right. J and I sure were sending each other a lot of emails. And, no, they weren't work-related; and, no, it wasn't because he didn't know how to do his job. You had the brass balls to insinuate that there was something going on between us. And I don't even think you did it because it's what you really thought. You did it to back me into a corner and force me out of my department so your buddy B could be in there instead. I was stupid to let you do that. I behaved as if J and I really were spending all day emailing each other sweet nothings instead of just telling you the truth.

So here it is: We spent all day emailing each other back and forth because we were both frustrated with your micromanaging the department even though you had no clue how anything worked. We were emailing each other back and forth bitching about how you were showing so much favoritism to B. We were emailing each other back and forth calling you nasty names and blowing off steam so we didn't bitch out the customers instead. Happy now?

What I should have said when you said "Well, if it's not work related then it must be something else," and smirked your pathetic little attempt at a "hey, we girls know what's really going on," smirk is this: "If you're trying to insinuate that J and I are having an affair then do me the courtesy of saying so. As a matter of fact, let me call both J and my husband in here and you can say it to them too. Otherwise, I demand an apology."

I don't know where you are now, but I hope for your sake you've outgrown that nasty little habit of trying to control and manipulate your employees.


(sent in by K to her boss at Satancorp)

Friday, September 30, 2005

Dear composer boy:

I would like to officially exchange the title of "low maintenance" womyn bestowed upon me by you. I did not realize at the time of our conversation that being low maintenance meant complacently waiting around for promised phone calls which never ever arrive.
I did not realize that being low maintenance meant a serene smiling acceptance of being made to feel more insignificant than your pet frog. I did not realize that being low maintenance meant you get to make the schedule of any and all contact because your "business" supercedes mine.
I have a much clearer understanding now; I was ignorant before and should have consulted a dictionary at the very least. I am hoping you have an exchange policy, as I have decided that the title of "high maintenance bitch" will be far more comfortable to travel in and is machine washable to boot; "low maintenance" just doesn't fit very comfortably and I've found it clashes with my sense of self respect.

Impatiently awaiting your reply,

High Maintenance Bitch

(Written by Le Synge Bleu)

Friday, August 12, 2005

To My Email Buddies

To my friends,

I want to thank all of you who have taken the time and trouble to send me
your chain letters over the past two years. Thank you for making me feel
safe, secure, blessed, and wealthy.

Because of your concern...I no longer can drink Coca Cola because it can remove toilet stains.

I no longer drink Pepsi or Dr. Pepper since the people who make these products are atheists who refuse to put "Under God" on their cans.

I no longer use Saran wrap in the microwave because it causes cancer.

I no longer check the coin return on pay phones because I could be pricked with a needle infected with AIDS.

I no longer use cancer-causing deodorants even though I smell like a waterbuffalo on a hot day.

I no longer go to shopping malls because someone will drug me with a perfume sample and rob me.

I no longer receive packages from UPS or FedEx since they are actually AlQaeda in disguise.

I no longer shop at Target since they are French and don't support our troops.

I no longer answer the phone because someone will ask me to dial a stupid number for which I will get the phone bill from hell with calls to Jamaica,Uganda, Singapore, and Uzbekistan.

I no longer eat prepackaged foods because the estrogens they contain will turn me gay.

I no longer eat KFC because their chickens are actually horrible mutant freaks with no eyes or feathers.

I no longer go to bars because someone will drug me and take my kidneys and leave me taking a nap in a bathtub full of ice.

Thanks to you, I have learned that God only answers my prayers if I forward an email to 7 of my friends and make a wish within 5 minutes.

I no longer have any savings because I gave it to a sick girl who has been dying for the past seven years.

I no longer have any money at all, but that will change once I receive the$15,000 that Microsoft and AOL are sending me for participating in their special e-mail program.

I will now return the favor.

If you don't send this e-mail to at least 1200 people in the next 60 seconds, a large bird with diarrhea will fly over your head at 5:00 pm and the fleas of a thousand camels will infest your armpits. I know this will occur because it actually happened to a friend of a friend of a friend's neighbor's cousin, and he's a lawyer.

Thursday, August 04, 2005

Dear *Renoir, (Aug. 3, 2005)

OK, I really hate to do this, but look. Every single time I read this e-mail I have to deal with these gross spelling and grammatical errors. I just want you to know these things, for future reference

Quoting *Renoir:
> Strength
> You are the strongest women I know.

women is plural. It means two or more women. WomAn is singular. I am only one woman.

>That is one of you may attributes that i love about you.

You left out the 'n' in many.

> You
> I fell in love with this blond gone red bomb-shell. The only
>women that can decipher my jiberjabber.

Again, I am only one womAn.

> Me
>All I have wanted is for you to be with me. I've fantasized about
>this for quite some time now. The thought was that just maybe
>you come for just the summer,

you *would* come

> fall in love with Tampa and stay with me. It is hard
> for me to accept that you will be a career student in WV. That kind of puts the kabosh on any future for us.
>I cannot leave Florida. Not due to family.
>This is the epicenter for the work I do.

You can spell epicenter, but you can't spell woman?

>I'm now with the premier company in the business and I'm
>jockeying to move to the top.
> Closeing
> I love you, I have never said that before. But the fact of the matter is
>your up there and I'm down her

You either Close a door or you are CLOSING a door.
Your spelling is shocking when You're attempting to write an email.
Her is the person who waits your tables and washes the dishes. Here is a place. Note the 'e' on the end.

Thank you for your patience, I am sorry it had to come to this, but that was about all I could stand.

I think I'm going to have to correct these mistakes so that I can read the letter without feeling my nerves plucked. If you want to, feel free to make the corrections and re-send it to save me time/effort.
Thanks a bunch,

Monday, August 01, 2005

Dear *Renoir,

I am copying and pasting the most recent e-mail I received from you, as a reference for several topics I would like to touch on in this e-mail. I feel that I have an abundance of unanswered questions, as well as some pressing matters that I should bring to your attention.

The section I would like to quote is actually the last line of your e-mail,
" I love you, I have never said that before. But the fact of the matter
is your up there and I'm down here "

A healthy relationship requires much more than love. It requires commitment, tolerance, patience, understanding...
I am not sure what leads you to believe that you love me. Your expression of this sentiment is incredibly surprising to me; as you said, you have never so much as hinted at this type of emotion toward me before. In fact, I believe the most recent update on your feelings toward me prior to this e-mail was last summer when you "joked" in the presence of your friends that "it's really just the sex."

I think you can understand why such a statement (the last line of your most recent e-mail) would shock me. However, I felt willing to give our relationship a chance on a more intimate level, and re-address that matter at a later date. The most suitable maneuver in this endeavor seemed to be to move to Tampa to be closer to you. As a first step in that process, I felt it would be favorable for you to visit here, spend some time with my family and get to know them, and most importantly for them to get to know you and like you. This would be advantageous to both of us (You And I) for many reasons, the most obvious being that my family would not feel as if I were abandoning them to live with a stranger.

Yet, all of these steps are to be taken to move forward with our relationship, and, as I mentioned earlier, an operative relationship requires much more than deep feelings of affection (even love). In our conversation earlier this evening, I felt that it was brought to my attention that our relationship already lacks quite a few of these additional but necessary qualities.

I feel that everyone is entitled to their own opinion, even their own religion. I refuse to force anyone to believe the same way that I do, in any matter. This is one reason that you and I have gotten along well over the years despite our polar political opinions.
In fact, I am surprised that you can be so objective about politics, but when it comes to religion, have such an immature perspective. I believe that one element of being part of my family is occasionally attending religious functions- and having tolerance for people of different religious beliefs. Attending church here would not have meant that anyone was trying to convert you, judge you, or change your beliefs. We feel that you are entitled to discover your own life philosophies, just as we are. Attending my grandfather's church is more of a social function than anything- it just so happens that the people gathered there are of a basically common religious belief. It also happens that most of the people there are my family, and friends. They sing, they listen to my grandfather preach, sometimes I doodle in my Bible, sometimes I pass notes, sometimes I focus intently on what he is saying because he is my grandfather, and I want to listen to all of his opinions and respect them as his opinions and learn about him as a person.

I am not Catholic. However, when I went and stayed with Jamie for two weeks in December, I attended Catholic services. I did not complain or go into large detail or even discuss my own religious beliefs with her family. I respect them and their beliefs and their entitlement to them.
To me, listening to my grandfather preach is equitable to listening to him talk about his opinions on anything else, from politics, to comparing and contrasting contemporary modes of life to life as he knew it as a child. Again, I respect his opinion, I listen to him, I do not engage in debate with him.

In summary, I feel that you have conveyed some incredibly immature attitudes concerning the acceptance and tolerance we show for others. I think it is sad that I am willing to accept that members of your family, and even you, have opinions very different from some of my views on things, but that you are unwilling to return that sentiment.

I am not sure it is a wise idea for us to press forward with our relationship at this juncture. I have enjoyed our conversations very much. I am very sorry that you hesitate to offer the same acceptance and respect to others that I would. I wish you only the best,


----- Message from*Renoir -----
Date: Mon, 18 Jul 2005 20:56:32 -0400
From: *Renoir
Reply-To: *Renoir
To: SunGrooveTheory


Showing feelings is the hardest thing for me to do. I understand that
you had to go to your family and not come up to NYC. I was wrong in my
reaction and at first no reaction at all. I was stunned. Maybe I had
built it up in my head too much. Seeing you was all I could think about
for quite some time. I didn't know what to say.


You are the strongest women I know. That is one of you may attributes
that i love about you.


I fell in love with this blond gone red bomb-shell. The only women
that can decipher my jiberjabber.


All I have wanted is for you to be with me. I've fantasized about this
for quite some time now. The thought was that just maybe you come for
just the summer, fall in love with Tampa and stay with me. It is hard
for me to accept that you will be a career student in WV. That kind of
puts the kabosh on any future for us. I cannot leave Florida. Not due
to family. This is the epicenter for the work I do. I'm now with the
premier company in the business and I'm jockeying to move to the top.


I love you, I have never said that before. But the fact of the matter
is your up there and I'm down here


Help?!! What do you think about this? I haven't sent it yet... ::sigh::: Should I?

Friday, July 15, 2005

Dear Uncle John,

I decided after our last meeting; at the funeral of David Ferreira; that you deserve a whole-hearted, Thank you.

As I believe that everybody hopes to leave their mark or in other words to be remembered; especially; if not at the least; by those that they care about.
You have now remembered me twice after many years of change in both of our lives. The other time being at the funeral of George Ferreira Sr. (We really need to stop meeting under such a foul situation.) Which had to be at least twenty years since you saw me last, as a young child. So again, thank you for remembering me. It makes one feel very special.

I would also like to share with you, that the time I spent with you, in your home, are some of my fondest childhood memories.

Although 'Hear Say' has told me that you are not in a very impressive chapter of life. You should smile proudly, as you are admirably remembered by some that cares about you.

Jeffrey Vincent Ferreira

(sent in via email)

Monday, June 27, 2005

Officer's dad:

Thank you sir, the good advice you gave to your son. Although I do not think I was going as fast as he said, I was definitely over the speed limit on that back road, heading to my friends house this past Sunday night (Father's Day). I asked him if he could give me a warning. He said "yup". Then he proceeded to tell me that he was talking to you on the phone as I drove by. He asked you if he should give me a ticket. Your responded, "If he's a father, wish him a Happy Father's day, ask him to slow down, and send him on his way. If he's a kid, send his punk-ass to jail." Well, your son noticed the child seats in the back of my car immediately and asked if I had kids. I of course answered in the affirmative. He told me the story, wished me a Happy Father's day, asked me to slow down, and sent me on my way. I thanked him of course, but forgot to ask him to wish you a Happy Father's Day. So hear it is sir, Happy Father's Day!


Wednesday, June 15, 2005

Dear Dad,

Thank you so much for teaching me how to be honest, respectful and productive, but most of all, thank you for teaching me how to always be free without taking my feet off the ground.
Not only did you show me where to go and how to get there, but before I traveled down this road, you made sure you walked through it first, so you could make things a lot easier for me.
You could be strong as an oak when I needed dicipline, and kind and sweet when I needed a friend.
You always told me to work hard to follow my dreams, and you set me free just in time so I could do that, then you respected all of my desitions, even though at times it must have been the hardest thing to do.
On this Fathers' day, you will probably get the usual call from me, sending you a big hug and telling you how I wish I could be there with you, and hopefully I'll have time to buy you a nice present... but you won't get this letter. I can't say why, it's just always been so hard for me to tell you how I feel about you.
I guess we have this sort of understanding, we know we love each other, but we don't talk about it.
I'm fine with that, 'cause I know you know.

Tuesday, June 14, 2005

Dear God,

I've neglected you lately. On Purpose. I have no remorse. The funny thing is, I have no reason why either. I've just been questioning life a lot (as supposedly you know, right?). So much on my mind. I feel so alone in my decisions, yet I know I have to make them on my own. Is this growing up? At any rate... I'm ready to close this chapter and move on. I need an angel, cause this little task seems to get larger and tougher every day.
(printed with permission)

Tuesday, June 07, 2005

Dear Diary,

Check this shit out. It's almost funny and so extremely pathetic that I just had to save it. Next time I'm feeling depressed, I'll come back and read it so I can have a few laughs.

Match date: Ok Ailyn - so I feel I should be straight with you... I like you... I like the sound of you... I'm not feeling a strong physical connection. Even if I'd like to - it's not there. Friends?

Ailyn Zel: Woah. Little surprise I must admit. I like you too and thought there was possibly something there. I enjoyed the hint of the kiss very much... But more than anything, I appreciate the honesty.

Match date: Well to be totally, completely, too honestly blunt.... It's just the hair. shallow ? yes. but it is what it is. And I apologize.

Ailyn Zel: I'm sorry, what? The hair? I'm very curious, can you explain what you mean.

Match date: yes forgive me..... it's too coarse for my taste, it's just like my hair but mine is almost 2 ft long and weighed down a little. It's great hair but it's coarse. Too poofy. My opinion? Shave it. All. and grow some facial hair. A man with a shaved bald head (but not bald cause he has an obvious hairline) and a nicely shaped facial!..irresistable. You should try it. You have a great face. and gorgeous strong features to pull it off. I believe it would do wonders for your love life.

{next day}

Match date: I'm sorry if i was offensive last night. I have a tendency to be a little harsh at times, and I apologize if I offended you somehow.

Ailyn Zel: Honestly? I'm quite flabbergasted by your response and really don't quite know what to say.

Match date: flabbergasted??? Man now I feel even worse. wow. I don't know what to say either except I am really sorry.

Saturday, June 04, 2005

Dear friend-afar,

During those random interludes in the day when you gaze out the window or find yourself staring long at a flower... do you think of me?
Do you find yourself taking mental notes of things to tell me about, happy or sad, or even of little significance at all except to tell me?
When the click turns to dialtone, do you suddenly remember something you wish you had said?
Do you find yourself wishing, longing even... that I were closer?
When you hear the tone in my voice, does it amuse you to imagine the expression on my face?
Do you yearn to see certain expressions?
Do you worry that I don't?

I do. all of the above. I wish I knew whether you do the same.

Sunday, May 22, 2005

Dear Heartbreak

(posted for Anonymous)
Seems like you're my only friend. I bid you adieu a lifetime ago when I chose happiness and forever – now you're back again, laughing and haunting me. You are painful and unending – your very name conjures thoughts of poets lamenting and song-writers beseeching. You make me want to graphically describe the ways you twist and turn your wretched mechanisms in me – the way you ache sweetly for a moment and then rip me to shreds the next.

You make me feel when all I want to be is numb – you hurt so badly when you force me to remember – and in Technicolor. Memories pinch and pull – they make me burn and howl – I don't want to remember. I want to live in blissful ignorance where I feel nothing inside.

Should I be happy I have your pain to relate to?

I don't want to see his face, I don't want to think of his smile. I don't want to hear his voice and I don't want to think about him. Heartbreak you make him come back – you bring him to me vividly and without remorse. Is this my penance? Is this what you do? My punishment for my sin, my pain for your pleasure.

How long will you stay?

Broken Hearted.

Thursday, May 19, 2005

Dear Uninvited Reader:

(posted for Anonymous)
Have you ever have someone go through your drawers without your permission? how can you describe that feeling? I remember being little and yelling at my mom for looking into my stuff without permission. Because there is a space that is only yours and no one else is allowed in. Specially without your consent.

Well... what would you feel like if someone you knew snooped around you and your friend's blog? Let me make this clear, I know blogger is public and open for anyone to read. But public is safe, since you have a nickname and you can choose to display your real name and other data. So you write anonymously.

In my case, only a couple of friends know about my blog (2 actually), because I wanted them to know and to read it and comment on it every now and then. I gave them that right.

Today I found out that someone took their time to get to my blog and to read it. If they had asked, I would have said no anyways, but what bothers me is that they thought I was stupid and wouldn't find out. It amazes me the lengths some people can go... right now I'm quite upset. I feel my space was violated... it's a feeling like walking in your underwear in the subway station.

I read this and think: "well it isn't that bad..." but it is... it's like having your clothes worn without your permission by someone else...

What do I have to do now? I wont stop blogging... that is a fact. And you... if you are reading this... get off!!! You are pushing yourself out of my life with this kind of psycho behavior. You give me the chills... I thought we were friends. You could have asked... you hurt me.

Thursday, May 12, 2005

My Dearest Half,

I just wanted to take this time to say Thank You! We've been together for about nine years and have been married for almost seven of them. Together we have seen new sights, conquered our fears and for a time become closer then I had ever thought I could be with someone. You have shown me what I really could be if I tried and were there to pick me up when I fell.

On many occasions you have told me that God had a purpose in mind when our chance meeting happened and our love affair blossomed . Even I saw this purpose in all the trials that we faced together which we could not have overcome alone. I looked upon you with pure joy every morning while you were still sleeping. A joy brought on by the fact that I, for the briefest time, was truly happy.

We overcame those stresses caused by the outside world, those caused by me and even you. I'm sorry that we both missed the hairline cracks that developed and grew into the gulf which now is separating us. You have contributed to my life more than you can or will ever know and for that I am genuinely thankful!

You have been a part of my life I will never forget, this I promise you!

Love You Always,


Monday, May 09, 2005

Dear Drivers Who Smoke,

1) Did you, by any chance, notice that your vehicle came equipped with an ashtray? No? Because it comes standard, so I'm pretty sure you have one... it should be right under your radio. Yeah. In the dashboard. It has a lighter, and a little detatchable tray that you can stubb your butts out in... yeah! That thing! Right there! Cool, isn't it? Yep. Now, see, if you put your cigarette butt THERE, instead of flinging it pell-mell out your window, then you WON'T: a) start a forest fire; b) choke and kill a cute little woodland/oceanic creature; c) destroy the ecosystem with litter that doesn't disintegrate or decompose; d) hit me in the eye with a lit freaking cigarette that just bounced off my windshield and flew in my open window. Thanks. 'preciate that.
2) Oh, and just so you know, your passengers hate you. Because in a car (windows open or not) the smoke is only going one place, and that's straight in their face.
3) Also, not to mention the fact that your car smells like an ashtray, but... your car smells like an ashtray. Which is sad, because you don't even USE your ashtray. Hmm... is that what you'd call poetic stupidity? I like to think so.
4) Finally, I'd just like to state for the record that drivers who fiddle around with getting out their cigarette pack, and then fiddle around with getting out a cigarette, and then fiddle around with lighting their cigarette, and then fiddle around with flicking the ash off at the proper intervals, and then fiddle around with... tossing their cigarette butt out the window... all while supposedly 'driving' along the highway at 70-plus MPH have NO STANDING WHATSOEVER to complain about their fellow drivers engaged in the act of putting on make up, or who are talking on their cellphones. So shush. SHUSH.

(reposted with permission from Linds, originally posted as An Ode To Highway Driving... #2 )

Wednesday, May 04, 2005

i love you so much

BOY: I saw her today
GIRL: I saw him today

BOY: It seems like its been forever
GIRL: I wonder if he still cares

BOY: She looks better than before
GIRL: I couldn't stop staring at him

BOY: I asked her how things were going
GIRL: I asked about his new girlfriend

BOY: I'd choose her over any girl im with
GIRL: He's probablly really happy right now

BOY: I couldnt look at her without starting to cry
GIRL: He couldnt even look at me

BOY: I told her I miss her
GIRL: He doesnt mean it

BOY: I meant it
GIRL: He didnt mean it

BOY: I love her
GIRL: He loves his new girlfriend

BOY: I held her for the last time
GIRL: He gave me a friendly hug

BOY: Then I went home and cried
GIRL: Then I went home and cried

BOY: I lost her
GIRL: I still love him

Friday, April 29, 2005

Dear Man With No Common Driving Sense,

1) Don't worry, sugar. I noticed you. In fact, I think most drivers on the road today noticed you. You were rather... noticeable, after all. I mean, the way you swerved randomly, the way you flicked people off, the way you decided that anything under 20 miles over the speed limit was impossibly slow... it was all just so sexy. Rrow. 2) Speaking of which, that bald head flashing in the sunshine streaming through your open sunroof? Hoo, was that hot. Add in a few splashes of gold at the neck and wrists, and I'm yours, baby- because there's nothing sexier than a man wearing heavy gold jewelry. NOTHING.

(reposted with permission from Linds, originally posted as An Ode To Highway Driving... #1 )

Saturday, April 23, 2005

Dear baby niece

I guess I should congratule you, like I did your parents, for your Baptism this morning. You are now "a daughter of God", a member of our church, one of us...
At the beginning of the ceremony, the priest expressed his intent to perform what he called an "exorcism" on you, that's when he rubbed oil on your tiny chest...
I'd been to many christening ceremonies but I guess this is the first time I really paid attention, and I almost choked when I listened to all the nonsense.
I just want to let you know that satan has not lived in you this last three months, no way little baby. You're just a newborn and there will never be a time when your soul is more pure and more immaculate than now....
You were not liberated from "original sin" today, cause you were not born in sin, your soul was already as clear as the water they poured on your little head...
I don't get to see you much, you are not my blood after all, but it feels as if you were, you're still my family, the newest member, the better one ... and although I don't think I will guide you through the path of "holiness" as your godparents swore this morning, I hope I get the chance to be in your life more, I hope to be someone you love and look up to, someone you come to for advice, comfort and understanding...
I've loved you from day one, and always will,
Your aunt V

Tuesday, April 19, 2005

To all the ships at sea...

This is a message and prayer.
The message is that my travels taught me a great truth. I already have what everyone is searching for and few ever find. The one person in the world who I was born to love forever. A person like me, of the outer banks and blue Atlantic mystery, a person rich in simple treasures self made and self taught. A harbor where I am forever home. And no wind or trouble or even a little death can knock down this house.
The prayer is that everyone in the world can know this kind of love and be healed by it. If my prayer is heard then there will be an erasing of all guilt and regret and an end to all anger. Please God. Amen.

(From the movie Message in a Bottle)

Friday, April 15, 2005

Dear 'closed chapter from my past',

I miss you. As simple as that. I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss much it doesn't stop. Even though you have.

The past shouldn't keep cropping up again and again long after it has been buried and exorcised and buried yet again. Of course you made a mistake. Of course I got hurt. And of course we have to move on in life. got out and I just got on.

I'm angry again. Even though we talked and you apologized and tried to make amends, I wouldn't let you see that it matter. I couldn' hurt just too much. I never did want to have that talk....somehow thinking about the past just brings up old hurts again. And now its just getting worse instead of better.

I miss you so much its like the moment has frozen in timeWaiting for you to say your bitWhich you won't...because you're not there any more. I miss you like crazy. Its driving me crazy but damned if I'll let you know. I'd have to be crazy to.

Silently grieving but still smiling,
The girl you never understood, the woman you never saw

(contributed by IdeaSmith)

Thursday, March 31, 2005

To my ex-wife,

Thank God it is over. No, not our marriage. I did not want that to end. I would never be thankful for that. I am talking about the divorce. Thank God the divorce is over. Now we can go on with our lives. Now we have boundaries on paper. Now we can be the best parents our children deserve without having to squabble over little things. Of course, we are lucky. We really did not squabble too much. And although I can never forget what you did and possibly never forgive, I do thank you for handling the divorce the way you did. It was not exactly the way I wanted, but it could have been much worse. Ha, of course it also could have been so much better and easier if you stuck to your promises. But that's ok. That is the past. This is the present. And here is to the future - mine, yours, and especially our children's. May they never experience what we have gone through.

your ex-husband

Friday, March 25, 2005

"Letters to my dead"

Dear Lindsey,
So many years ago, when I asked myself, when I screamed to God,
consumed with regret and more anguish- Why you? Why not me?
The questions are quieter now.
I still love you.

Dear Aaron,
I wonder why I didn't go... You meant so much to me. I wish we could
be there again, on Snow Mountain. Aaron, I love you. Thank you for all
you did for me.

Dear Maw Maw Nora, (my great-grandmother)
I wish I had seen you one last time.

Dear Granddad, (my great-grandfather)
Thank you for your message when I was 14. As you know, it has often
stuck with me and been an inspiration. Granddad, I love you, and I
miss you. Thank you for giving me the tools to be able to cope with
your death with peace.

To Buddy
I am so sorry
all the times you invited me,
I wanted to go.
I wanted to hear your laughter
the care-free jokes
as though the world was our own
and nothing could take it from us I wanted to see your smile
And I still do
I still want these things
I want to rumble over Sweet Briar gravel roads in an old beat up
pick-up truck with you

letting ghosts rest is never easy... i suppose, at times, it is
necessary, and in this i hope we find peace.

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

Dear TT,

Today would have been your 31st birthday, and it's almost been a year since you decided to leave us.
I'm still trying not to think about you too much, it's still too confusing, too disturbing and way too painful. But I want you to know that you will always be in my heart and in my memory.
I will never know exactly what happened that day, you didn't leave a note or talked to anyone, that is why nothing about that day ever made any sense, it was so unlike you to not seek help... but I guess you'd just given up.
My dear TT, I wish you had called me, I think I could have talked you out of it, I saw you the night before and you seemed fine... But then again, why would you have called me? there's a reason you didn't... I was never the kind of friend you wanted me to be. I listened to your problems but could never tell you what to do, or I did and get frustrated if you didn't follow my advice.
I told you to seek help a couple of times but never really helped you much myself, I was too busy, too self-absorbed, and you reminded me of a side of me I buried a long time ago. I am just so sorry I wasn't there for you at the time you needed me the most.
My dearest friend.. Where are you right now? where did you go? I'd give anything to find out what happens after this... The week after you left us I asked one of the people in my life I love and trust the most about where you'd gone, and she told me since you'd taken your life you'd probably gone to hell (according to Catholicism). That the stupidest thing I've heard, and it was the hardest blow ever, that's the moment I finally lost my religion...
But I haven't lost my faith, I know you are out there, listening to all of us, smiling when we think of you.
Wherever you are, just remember you will always live in my heart, I just need to find a way to talk to you and embrace your memory without the pain...
Happy B-Day hermosa... (y siempre joven)

Sunday, March 20, 2005

Dearest Brother,

(This was originally posted by Le Synge Bleu on her blog. It touched me when I listened to it and I asked her if I may repost it.)
this is an audio post - click to play

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

Dear Lioness

I was there that day you were so upset, feeling trapped and anxious. I watched as you tried to scare off the humans who were invading the only space you have,the only space they gave you. I saw that stupid man waving things at you, trying to get you to roar and charge, as if you were some toy. I felt your rage and your fear. I couldn't help but cry to see you so upset, with your back to a wall and at the mercy of people who just don't see you as a living feeling being. I'm so so sorry I didn't have the courage to tell him to stop, that I was too much of a coward to walk up to him and say..."stop teasing her it is cruel". You see in my world, the one run by people, it isn't 'acceptable' for a kid to tell an adult, especially a stranger, to 'knock it off'. I was afraid he would be angry with me, or yell at me, or something else that would make me feel bad inside. So I said nothing, I watched him with rage in my heart towards him and tears in my eyes for you and said nothing. I should have been stronger, I should have done something. So to you, my beautiful queen of the plains, I say I am sorry. The next time I can say something to stop what is wrong in this world, I will hold your courage in my heart and the next time I will use my voice as you do. I will Roar and maybe, just maybe someone will hear me.

love from
Nobody's Child

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

To Nobody's Child,

this is an audio post - click to play

Sunday, March 06, 2005

Green Diamond Room Psychotherapy Clinic and Sexual Motivation Hospital

To Whom It May Concern,

I just wanted to say Thank You for the level of professional help I received from your fine organization. On two recent visits to GDRPC/SMH I was welcomed with the highest level of care I've ever had at any similar establishment.

First of all the facility itself is spectacular, top notch! I've heard it was built by the great Dr. Ailyn Zel your Chief Attending whom I've been lucky enough to meet. Dr. Zel, I see, is not only your Hospital figurehead but he also still has time to pop into our discussions and ask very probing questions such as:

1) What?
2) Did I miss something?
3) Why are you laughing?
4) and Huh?

I can see why you hired him, as those questions drive to the very heart of why I've come to you for help. He is an inspiration!!

After length of discussion with both Dr. Groovy and Dr. Chick I now know that life isn't really as crazy as its seems. Dr. Groovy is teaching me to be patient, let my hair down and be amazed at the world around us. She seems to have some sort of fascination with both big, big men or the little blue men that borders on fear and adoration respectively. When you make a breakthrough Dr. Groovy is the first to let you know with her exclamations of:

2) Oh Gosh!
3) Have you ever watched the Smurfs?
4)and her famous darting from room to room "Did you ummm...See John Holmes walking around here"?

Dr. Chick taught me how to look back into the lyrics of my youth and to laugh at myself when I have to. She showed me how sometimes you must take it on the chin and you can either use the metaphorical "napkin" or just give up. Her innate ability to see the rhyme or reason in the world is in effect. Dr. Chick also has the talent of being able to draw you out of your shell and into conversation with her poignant remarks:

1) Where's my COFFEE??
2) No.
3) Indeed.
4) and the ever inquisitive "WTF"????

They all have led me to great break-throughs and I'm thinking of joining the weekend group meeting they have in the Green Room proper.

Thanks to you and all your staff!!


ps. Thanks guys--really ;)

Friday, March 04, 2005

Dear Dog and Cat:

When I say to move, it means go someplace else, not switch positions with each other so there are still two of you in the way.

The dishes with the paw prints are yours and contain your food. The other dishes are mine and contain my food. (Please note, placing a paw print in the middle of my plate & food does not stake a claim for it becoming your food & dish, nor do I find that aesthetically pleasing in the slightest. )

The stairway was not designed by NASCAR and is not a racetrack. Beating me to the bottom is not the object. Tripping me doesn't help because I fall faster than you can run.

I cannot buy anything bigger than a king size bed. I am very sorry about this. Do not think I will continue to sleep on the couch to ensure your comfort. Look at videos of dogs and cats sleeping. They can actually curl up in a ball. It is not necessary to sleep perpendicular to each other stretched out to the fullest extent possible. I also know that sticking tails straight out and having tongues hanging out the other end to maximize space used is nothing but sarcasm.)

My compact discs are not miniature Frisbees.

For the last time, there is not a secret exit from the bathroom. If by some miracle I beat you there and manage to get the door shut, it is not necessary to claw, whine, meow, try to turn the knob, or get your paw under the edge and try to pull the door open. I must exit through the same door I entered. (In addition, I have been using the bathroom for years...canine or feline attendance is not mandatory.)

The proper order is kiss me, then go smell the other dogs' or cats' butts. I cannot stress this enough. It would be such a simple change for you.

And most important when we have guests, they are not to become the object of your eye. Please do not attach yourself to their leg, foot, back or any other part of their body.

To pacify you I have posted the following message on our front door.....

Rules for Non-pet owners who visit and like to complain about our pets:
1. They live here; you don't.
2. If you don't want their hair on your clothes, stay off the furniture.
3. I like my pet better than I like most people.
4. To you it's an animal. To me he and/or she is an adopted son and/or daughter who is short, hairy, walks on all fours and is speech challenged.

Dogs and cats are better than kids. They eat less, don't ask for money all the time, are easier to train, usually come when called, never drive your car, don't hang out with drug using friends, don't drink or smoke, don't worry about buying the latest fashions, don't wear your clothes, don't need a gazillion dollars for college, and if they get pregnant, you can sell the results.


Mistress of the House

(with the exception of the sincerely, this was sent to me from my sister)

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

Dear *Renoir,

I was incredibly surprised to hear from you again so soon after our chat last Thursday. Our conversation yesterday evening was interesting, to say the least.

I understand that you think that I am the ideal woman for you. I am intrigued that it took you three years to notice the redemptive qualities about me that you mentioned. I only wonder this one thing: Have you been listening to what I am saying to you?

Last year, when you called, I gave you a number of reasons that we are incompatible. Then there was the email, to which I (wittily?) replied with a top-ten list of reasons why we wouldn't work out. In addition, there was the time we met up on a whim simply because we were in the same city at the same time. Far be it for me to question your memory, but do you remember how un-flattered I was by the joke you made to your friends in front of me that "my best quality was the outline of my blouse?" Do you remember how that preceded by only a matter of seconds my "untimely" departure? Even if you have difficulty remembering such a small incident, perhaps you recall the ensuing onslaught of angry e-mails once you sent your pitiful "it was just a joke please forgive me" apology? No? Well it really isn't that complicated, I'm sure a man who can go on for hours about the internal workings of the Wankel engine is fully capable of utilizing his e-mail archives. Yet perhaps I'm mistaken here, too.

In all fairness to you, let's put every one of the above-mentioned reasons for our dysfunctionality as a couple aside. There are a few more that I would like to take this opportunity to point out.

First, we have never had an argument. You think this is because I am such a passive person that I simply avoid confrontation when I am angry. That is a misconception on your part. I am fully capable of extreme emotion and do express anger incredibly, well.. angrily at times. I simply possess a rather unusual philosophy about anger. I believe that only the people that I truly care about deserve the opportunity to express their defense. And let's just face it. Your past behaviors have not aided your worthiness to express to me your exculpations. If you ever do achieve this worthiness, it will be signified when instead of bowing out graciously, I sit across from you, narrow my eyes, lower my tone, and say something along the lines of, "What did you just say?" At which point, (if you ever manage to reach that point), you may commence with your explanation. Every viewpoint will be weighed logically and rationally, and some form of agreement will be reached. This does not happen without permission of an "argument."

Furthermore, I do not confide in you. I have never been comfortable enough to engage in this act with you due to your lack of compassion. While it is certainly a pleasure to have intelligent discussion on many topics from the Many-Worlds Interpretation of "Schrodinger's Cat," to our polar political opinions, these cannot serve as substitutes for a real relationship (something I suggest you investigate sometime in the near future). But let me return to the topic of your admitted lack of human-ness. You view crying as a passtime for the weak, while I view crying as a valid emotional outlet. As a workaholic you translate "tired" to "lazy." Moreover, your obsessions with material possessions only serve as commiserable distractions from the sufferings of being entirely human. These traits only add to the immeasurable list of things that you cannot give me. When I cry, I want to be held (not chastised). When I am tired, I would like to relax (not be upbraided). What do all your material possessions amount to when weighed against emotional fulfillment?

I hope this serves to clarify matters more fully, and that you understand why at this juncture I must gracefully decline your proposal.