letters, the “i don’t have time to think about anything other than this” edition.

dear makers of sara lee deluxe blueberry bagels,

i love you.

no, really.

i don’t know what you put in them (a little crack, maybe?), but they are magnificent. they make the twenty minutes after my workout adventures bliss.

and i just read this and apparently you’re exactly what i need. ’cause i put peanut butter on them and they are magic. pure magic. and now, i can feel even better about that magic, because it’s good magic. magical magic.

not that i didn’t know that before. because i knew. oh yeah. i knew.

thank you from the bottom of my empty stomach.

yours in superfood carboyhydrate adoration,

your stalker fan for life.

dear dead ann radcliffe, famous author of gothic novels,

why are they so long?

why are they so boring?

why are they, nonetheless, so important to my dissertation so i have to keep reading them…all…and taking notes on them because you subtly work in all of these amazing elements of travel and the thematic focus of liberty versus restraint and all of the other things that i am writing about?

WHY?

sentimentally yours,

CBPHD

dear elliptical,

i know we’ve had our differences. i know i used to scoff at the girls who were on you FOREVER at the gym. i couldn’t understand why they weren’t DONE already it had been an hour oh my gosh.

i was stupid.

i get it now. you are weirdly fascinating. you make sixty minutes of sweat-pouring punishment actually seem like fun. i don’t understand it. i don’t aim to try to understand it.

all i know is that i hoist my carcass out of bed earlier and earlier for you every morning, and i’m excited by the numbers we’ll crack. will i make it through 15 songs on the iPod today? will you squeak in that weird way that you do when the stride is 500+? will i have to deal with the incomings and outgoings of a multitude of maintenance men and management personnel because your placement in the “workout” room is also where the bathrooms are?

it doesn’t matter.

because i like you. i REALLY like you.

i hope you’ll forgive me my earlier snap judgments and continue to beat the heck out of me for as long as we both shall live. (or at least until i start going to the gym again to run on the treadmill which YOU, dear elliptical, will have made possible for me.)

with the love i only offer to inanimate exercise machines,

your favorite 10am fixture.

dear job,

i think we need some time apart.

i’m grateful for you. i know i am blessed by you. some days, i even have fun with you.

but as of now, i am kinda over you.

two more shifts and we will be parted for at least two months. i think a break is what we need, to remember why we appreciate each other. to remember what it is that’s good about our relationship.

i’ll go about my business, teaching smart english majors about Romantic writers, writing two more dissertation chapters, saving the world. you’ll go about yours, employing poor graduate students, improving grammar and writing skills, freezing employees to death as they sit in your hyper-refrigerated cave-like office.

i’m ready for the break. i may miss you. i don’t know. but i know i’ll be back. because, if nothing else, you pay for bagels.

and some days, that’s all that matters.

enjoy the rest of the summer. i know i will enjoy mine…

tutor girl.

dear scale,

MOVE DOWN.

obliged,

me, who couldn’t possibly be doing anything more.

dear dissertation director,

while it’s summer and i understand that you are out of town doing things with your family that are very important and you are working on your own book and probably getting ready to teach in the fall and doing brilliant things in your own career and are busy with other dissertations because surprise the world does not in fact revolve around me and i so respect and appreciate the fact that you emailed me to tell me that you had in fact received that chapter that i sent you and i am grateful that you are so kind to me when i randomly send you things out of the blue in the middle of a tuesday night, could you maybe hurry up and read it so that i could send it to the other members of my committee so that i can feel like i am progressing and most importantly because nothing is as important as what we do with whiteboard markers so that something could move on my flowchart freakout board?

sigh.

thanks. i’m gonna buy you a big present at the end of all of this, i promise. although i’m beginning to think me being done and out of your hair?

biggest. gift. of. all.

respectfully yours,

yes, i’m working on another chapter and not sitting around, i promise!

3 Responses to “letters, the “i don’t have time to think about anything other than this” edition.”

  1. ha, these letters are too funny. i like the first one.

  2. Dear Dr. Bolte,

    was that last one all one big sentence? I’m impressed.

    Faithful Reader,
    Ohmygoshi 🙂

  3. Dear Carrie:

    Guess What? I read this at camp. And wrote this comment. Meaning what?

    …I’m back. Hugs and Love and that pesky dissertation will be over before you know it!

    Your Former Student and Full-Time Annoyance:
    Lindsay

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