30 Days 30 Letters – Day 8

Listening to: Tchaikovsky – Waltz Of The Flowers
via FoxyTunes

Day 8 | Favourite Internet Friend

Querida Hagge,

You’ve other names, but that’s the one I met you by, so I went with that.  The truth is, you’ve held this spot for a good long time, but now I think I appreciate it even more.  The truth is, I’ve been putting this off, simply because there aren’t words.

…actually, I tell a lie.  There are, but a lot of them are things I’ve actually told you over the past few days.  That precisely is one of the things I love so much about you.  In a world where the fatuous overruns just about everything, you have a good deal of sensible and interesting things to say.  You’re curious, insightful, and fun.  The latter is not often found with the other two.  It’s just as easy to confide in you as it is to tell you that the book I just read was “fabu”–and then laugh at meself for using that stupid word.

Sometimes I’m still surprised that we ended up friends–for the simple fact that you are a far cooler person than I.  An insanely talented artist and a levelheaded sage.  [yes, you do seem sagely.  gurus do not do it better.  ;)]  Maybe my self image is horrendously askew, but it’s almost like the paparazzi (referring to me) being the buddy of a celebrity (referring to you).  Or is that just silly?

I dunno if you read this blog or not, so if you don’t, then at least I say most of this–or at least infer it–to you when we talk.  Like I said at the start of this, I don’t really see a point in writing a letter.  We talk. Something I’ve missed in many other avenues.


Kid-Apocalypse  ;)


30 Days 30 Letters – Day 7

Listening to: Kid Loco – Alone Again
via FoxyTunes

Day 7 | Ex-romantic connection

Dear Nick,

We had fun, but it wasn’t really what you wanted when you thought you liked me.  I hope that realisation didn’t make you feel bad.  I was really innocent when you broke up with me, but even when you did it, I knew you were lying.  And I was okay with it.  I still am.

Is it weird that the thing I’m most grateful for has to do with the break-up?  It wasn’t that I didn’t like you, obviously.  But the way you did it, lie and all, was probably the nicest way anyone has ever gotten rid of me.  In the top ten, anyway.  I don’t know what it was about it.  Lies are never pleasant, but you told an awkward white lie in order to cut ties.  It wasn’t painful, and you didn’t call me names or lie about me to someone else.  You didn’t even confuse my feelings with your own preconceptions.

It was pretty cut and dried.

So yeah.  Thanks, man.  I wonder what you’d think of me now, really.  I’m not innocent anymore, and I don’t believe in wishing or hope.  My hair is shorter, I think, and I actually have a gender identity that makes sense to me.  Heh, I think I was still trying to be girly when you knew me.  I remember I wore skirts and spoke Japanese with atashi instead of boku.  All my friends were guys though.  It’s a shame I lost touch with them.  Sorry I don’t miss you.




30 Days 30 Letters – Day 6

Listening to: Darren Hayes – I Miss You
via FoxyTunes

Day 6 | Stranger

Dear You (3),

I guess you know your name too.  I don’t.  But that’s the fun of it, isn’t it?  The last time I saw you, we were both on a trolley and I had a video camera.  There was something superbly familiar about you, so I recorded you as well as I could.  That was probably creepy, but it just sounds funny to me now.  At the time, it felt like an important thing to do.  It wasn’t my video camera anyway, and I haven’t seen the video in years.

Years.  It was a really long time ago.  Where did you go, what did you do, in that number of  years?  You looked young at the time, but the kind of young that could have easily been a twenty-year-old passing for sixteen.  You seemed older, and a little sad.  If there hadn’t been so much space and so many people between us, I might have said hello.  I hope you’re doing well now.  Something tells me you deserve a break.  Perhaps you’re a busy person, or just stressed out.

Sometimes I wonder if I ought to write you down.  You know, base a character on my impression of you that day.  Of course I remember your face, clothes, posture.  I honestly don’t know why I never thought about that before now.  It almost makes me want to sing.  “How can I remember things that never happened?  Long before I met you, don’t ask how I knew…  Ever since I can remember, I remember you.”  Silly though, that’s a love song.  That’s not the connection I want to make, but it’s quite a common thing to think about, don’t you find?

If ever we meet again, let’s go to Andrew and Steve’s and get a slice of pie or dolmades.  Something.  Especially if you’re sad.

Contemplative regards,



30 Days 30 Letters – Day 5

Listening to: Goot’s cover of Bad Romance is stuck in my head

Day 5 – My Dreams

Quién corresponda:

Please stop trying to kill me.  Or rather, stop succeeding at it, after your quirky fashion.  I admit, it makes for funny and often very interesting stories, but it makes it hard to breathe when I wake up.  Also, I suspect my multiple deaths in sleep are the reason my back hurts.  However, I believe you will ignore this missive, so I’ll migrate to another subject.

I appreciate the time you take to entertain me.  What was the sloth’s third riddle?  “Often will I spin a tale, never will I charge a fee.  I’ll amuse you an entire eve, but alas, you won’t remember me.”  I usually remember, though.  Over the years, you’ve had some good stories to tell.  Ever there to remind me that there are avenues when nothing has to make sense, nor does technique matter.  It’s a lesson I’ve needed lately, and I think I’ve finally learned it properly.

The time will come to put it all into action, but for now, I have to apologise for giving you less work lately.  According to my doctor, having vivid dreams every night and the fact that I have been sleeping two or three hours at a time means I have not been getting anywhere near REM 4.  Medication has fixed that, but I remember my dreams less now.

Still, the things I tell myself when I fall asleep must influence you somehow.  Of course, you have ideas of your own and generally rebel when I tell myself a story about ducks in medieval Pretendalot, but then I wake up and have ideas for a book called Truncheons and Dragons.  So we’re even there.

Again, thank you for being there.  If ever I hate to sleep, I promise it has nothing to do with you.  I’m just a busy person.

Besos y abrazos,



Ain’t no rest for the wicked

Listening to: Weezer – Run Over By A Truck
via FoxyTunes

Guess what I was playing yesterday?  XD  That’s right, Borderlands.  Been too long since I played last.  Sasha and I kept kill-stealing each other, so it’s just as well it was Borderlands and not something else.

I was going to answer some comments on deviantART, but it’s down for maintenance, so I figured I’d get in here and write another letter.

30 Days, 30 Letters | Day 4: Sibling

Dear Ethan,
We have things weird, you and me.  Even before Steph got her own place, it was pretty clear that I was closer to you than her.  Putting my own personality (among other things) aside, you’d think I’m supposed to be closest to my big sister.  Then there’s the fact that you’ve been the big brother for most of ever, never mind chronology.  I guess that’s weird.  I like it that way.

Lately, I really miss you.  It’s good that you’ve been getting more hours.  It’s good that you have a girlfriend I don’t hate (I know that sounds mean, but you gotta admit, stuff like that happens).  But it seems like things have become the same with you as they are with other people.  We don’t just up and hang out, and you’ve actually started bailing on me.  I never thought that would happen.

I was really counting on you the other day.  You had plans, yeah, but bailing is bailing.  Isn’t there any time left over?

It’s funny, but there’s not anything that I think I have to tell you.  You know more about me than most other people, and you’re my oppa.  If something’s wrong, I ask you to fix it.  If something is interesting, you’ll definitely get it, or at least pretend it isn’t stupid or boring.  You listen to everybody.

There’s still a lot of Nutella, by the way.  You can have some if you promise not to eat it all.

ME  (;


30 Days 30 Letters – Day 3

Listening to: Goot – Progress
via FoxyTunes

Day 3 – Parents

Queridos Amá y Appa,

I really love you.  Less and less people are able to say things like that to their parents, and I feel lucky that I’m in a place where I can.  This is a hard letter to write, because I don’t know what I might say.  There are so many good things, and I hope you already know them.  Otherwise, what am I doing wrong?

Other times, I think I’m always wrong.  I can’t reach your expectations–not the ones you think of, but the spiritual standards that you set simply by example.  I feel dwarfed by them.  But I say things the wrong way so often that I can’t tell you that.  You’d blame yourselves, or just tell me I’m mistaken.  But I’m not.

Most of my childhood memories are of both of you helping people.  That has never changed.

There are a lot of things I don’t know about you two.  Usually when I think about it, I think that maybe you’re just like me–you don’t bring up things like that.  Heaven knows I have a lot of thoughts and things in my life I haven’t shared.  But that’s really to the detriment of everyone.  We keep track of our genealogy, but I don’t know how Appa felt in high school, or what he said when he proposed to you, Amá.  It’s all in bits and pieces.  It makes me wonder how much you don’t know about me.  When I think that, I think it’s better you don’t know it.  A lot of it would bore you, I think.

Maybe that’s a double standard.

The fact that I love you still stands.



30 Days 30 Letters – Day 2

Listening to: The Beatles – Help!
via FoxyTunes

People who know me IRL, please do not comment on this one.  If you want to talk about it, IM or SMS or something.

Day 2 – Crush

Dear you–

You know your name.

Of course, you don’t know mine, and you never will.  Not just because I’m hopeless and that part of the world is behind me.  If it helps vindicate me, I know I’m a silly girl, and I’m not hinging on anything.  Daydreams are what they are.  And I don’t need them.

Sometimes I wish you weren’t real.  It would be a lot easier if I’d just made you up, but I’ve never done that in my entire life.  Me, a writer and a former dreamer.  Hard to believe?  Some writers never stop daydreaming, to the point they don’t write.  I never used to daydream for myself–it was all plans for stories.  Then you invaded, like bloody Cortés, but with nicer hair.  And you’re a gringo.  I can’t even explain why I like you.  I think I’ve tried, but it always makes me feel stupid.

If only someone would laugh at me.  I laugh at myself, but it feels hollow.  When I don’t feel idiotic, I think that maybe it isn’t you at all.  That perhaps you are only a face over a bigger problem in my life.

It’s okay to “tell” you, since you’ll never read this.  So I tell you aloud.  I could never write something like that.

Crushes are aptly named, a sentiment that I’m quite sure has been voiced overmuch.  It obstructs airflow.  They are somewhat unlike me though.  I joke about that sort of thing a lot, but I’m fair certain I actually mean it when it comes to you.  This bothers me a great deal.  Feeling that kind of connection to a stranger is uncomfortable, especially for a realist.

Please become a joke.  I want my dreams of dinosaurs and mayhem back.