letters the third.

dear crazy weather that belongs not in winter,

i understand that terms like “rotation” and “warning” are meant to make me be smart and take cover. what they really make me want to do is crawl back under the covers and hum a little tune loudly until it’s all over. either that or go screaming madly around town, possibly saying something along the lines of “it’s the end of the world!”

(and i don’t feel fine about it, fyi.)

so, if you could NOT bring your tornado self quite so close to my ghetto-but-loved apartment with its inhabitants, furry, human, and reptile, that would be swell.

many thanks,

the girl who thinks flying monkeys and a tin man don’t quite make up for the head trauma.

dear dr. ng,

you frickin’ rock. thanks for the clean margins and for having an amazing bedside manner for a surgeon. i watch grey’s anatomy occasionally. i know how bad it could be. instead, you make mom confident–and that makes me happy.

may your practice thrive and your name be praised throughout all the land,

your newest groupie/fan.

hey law school girl.

yeah, you!

i love and appreciate you more than you know. you deserve every good thing. i couldn’t be getting through all this without you. or i could, but there’d be a lot more of the crazy.

and you KNOW where the crazy leads.

someday we’ll be friends in the same time zone again. i can’t wait!

your gchat partner in crime.

dear REM sleep cycle (not to be confused with the supremely amazing band to whom i referred a few short lines ago),

please give me a break. i’ve had one sublimely great night’s sleep since i got back. i’m headed for futon land again tomorrow. please? for the love of my sanity, could i sleep…a lot and well?

in case this request is at all unclear, this would include NOT the following: ambient noise that wakes me up enough to not sleep well but not enough to be awake and productive (hello thunderstorms and dripping rain spouts outside my window), loud neighbors, tossing and turning, fitfulness, nightmares, the phone ringing, or anything else that could possibly disturb me.

also, if you could throw me another one of the dreams like i had night before last (aka the sublime sleep night), that would be super. appreciate it more than i can say.

many thanks and all that (we won’t mention that this is your JOB). don’t make me quote hamlet and that to sleep perchance to dream junk.


the girl who is just craving the covers to be pulled over her head.

dear you,

you can’t burn a bridge and then rebuild it out of twine and a prayer and expect it to hold the weight of a real friendship.

please stop trying. my attempts to navigate this are swiftly becoming the straws that might just break this camel’s back.

yours in cliched phrasing, chillin’ on my side of the proverbial water,


to whom it clearly refers:

you are my optimistic cheerleader, my valiant support system, my crazy comedy show, my stuffed giraffe hug. you are merry-go-rounds and card games, road trips and pumpkins, waiting in line and getting lost in traffic. you are random silly quotes that make me laugh and surprising kindness that makes me cry. you are inspiration and frustration. your writing is eloquent, your thoughts perceptive, your heart incredible. you are trustworthy. you are a dreamer. you show up. you have exquisite faith. you are beautifully flawed. you are you. people who think they know you don’t see the half of how amazing you truly are.

i do.



2 Responses to “letters the third.”

  1. OHOHOH I have one:

    dear graveyard shift worker at the taco bell on university:
    listen. I understand it’s late. You’re bored out of your mind because Gainesville is a ghost town right now and you hate your life. But really? Onions on my mexican pizza? Really? And skipping out on the “mozzarella cheese” or whatever you pretend that white stuff on top is? that’s just ridiculous. next time, maybe just try a little harder? your company’s reputation for serving grade d beef that’s who knows how old, and been handled by however many bare hands, is on the line. consider this a warning.

    a disenfranchised fan.

    me: *grabs purse, keys, goes to veronica’s door* hey I’m-

  2. Hey PhD chick! Yes you!

    You don’t even know how much you helped me. I’m not promising the same time zone thing (unless you are planning on moving to the west) but I am promising the kind of life long friendship – like I better get Christmas cards and once a month emails about the kids – that is really what all women want down deep. I love our google chats. If I go a day without them I wonder what happened to the day? I’m so glad you don’t think I am crazy for lying to myself about convincing myself that someone who is totally not, totally is addicted to porn. You rock!

    Your Crazy Crazy Friend

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