The Love Letter

I found it in a second hand accounting textbook. Stuck in the pages of the 17th chapter somewhere between "reading a balance sheet" and "interpreting an income statement".

He writes on simple notebook paper with scrawling, sloppy handwriting interspersed with misspellings and "lols". Two letters in one envelope, since he didn't mail the first before he wrote the second. He's been there about three weeks and only just got his dogtags and glasses. He's getting used to things now, and they've stopped fighting as much among themselves.

He thinks about that date he took her on just before he left. He wishes he could talk to her, see her face. He really, really likes her, and calls her Morgan-beautiful. Both letters end with the same post-script: "PS. Your amazing and beautiful."

He only just got her card, and he can't wait to get her next letter. He thinks she's someone special.

He hopes she feels the same way about him.
 
Does she? The envelope is torn from where she opened it, perhaps in a hurry, obscuring his full name and return address. The paper is still fairly crisp, the folds cleanly creased and not fraying from ill use or much handling. Did she read the letter once and forget about it, stuffing it absentmindedly into her book as she prepared for finals? Did she hide it there quickly, guiltily before some other boy found the evidence of this mystery admirer? Or was she saving it there, to keep her company as she studied for a test and dreamed of the boy who took her on a date once before he left to join the airforce?

Her address, at least, is still clearly written in his untidy hand on the envelope. Should I return it to her? Pack it up in a plain white envelope with a return address she's never heard of? I think I will, if only because I cannot keep it and hate to throw such earnest hopefulness away. 

On Bunnies, and other Quandries

I have this thing going on right now that I actually hate to talk about. I'm applying to graduate school, and it depresses me so much I have to block it out of my head when not actively engaged in the process. It's not that I don't like the idea of going back to school, or because I don't want to study anymore. It is depressing because I really, really want it and I'm 99% positive I can't have it.

In other news, I am not a graphic designer. I feel this is an important bit of trivia to share, because there are several people in my life (read: coworkers and bosses and such) who do not seem to believe me when I say this. They are so far convinced, in fact, that they expect me to pump out brochures that we then have professionally printed in mass quanity, design entire websites (we're talked 60 page websites here, folks, not some blog like...this one) which then get so many hits the server slows down and almost (but not quite) crashes, and create ad campaigns that we will pay thousands of dollars to run on EdWeek's website. So, just to reiterate: I am not a graphic designer. (I may have somehow accomplished all of the above including animated gifs for the ad campaign, but I stand by my original thesis).

Tidbit: the previous two paragraphs are actually related. Here's how: Last night as I sat with my favorite flavor of Awesomeness discussing the nature of the world and other weighty matters, I found myself saying the following:

"I'm really not sure how to convince you of this but the truth is there is a much better chance that I will not get into one of those two grad programs than that either program will accept me. Let alone both. But the thing is, when those rejections come, I want to have a plan."

And in that moment something remarkable happened. A practical boy gave an emotional girl a solution to her problem (rather than just listening and commiserating, which is generally the favored response) and she liked the solution! Ladies and gentlemen, I give you a Christmas Miracle (Well, our tree is still up so, this season is still holly-jollying the crap out of my life at least). If I don't...no...when I don't get into graduate school, I will take classes and such and attempt to amend my non-graphic designer state. And then I will make websites about bunnies (because cats have so been done).

(Random, unnecessary parenthetical because that appears to be the dominant theme in this blog post).

Fin.

Nue Yir

First of all, I resolve to stop spelling it that way. I'm annoyed at my own title. If it were someone else's title, we'd no longer be friends. Stop be so pretentious...me!

So, how this whole 2012 thing going for you so far? Pretty good? It is the last year of the world, you know. That Mayan calendar totally ends in December, and those guys were fantastic at predicting the future. Other than that thing with the Spaniards, I mean.

Anyway. Wouldn't you like to know what my resolutions are? No? Good point. Let's talk about something else.

A few weeks ago I saw a status on my facebook feed about someone having met a goal of "reading 80 books this year!" and I got to wondering how many books I had read this year. I can't tell for certain, because I can't remember them all, but judging by my Kindle and the few non-Kindle books I do remember reading this year, it's somewhere between 115 and 120 books, and that's not counting those that I read more than once. I so want to be proud of that number. That's roughly a book every three days, and given that I have a full time job, well...that has to make me some kind of reading-hero, right?

The problem is that of those 115-120 books, only about a third of them were worth reading. Maybe I'm being too harsh there, possibly half were worth it. Does it really matter? Either way I am wasting far too much time reading young adult fiction about trolls. Yes, trolls. I know, what was I thinking? I don't know! It must have been a freebee. Actually, the price is an issue. If you read as much as I do then paying more than $2 for a book sort of matters. Do the math people, how much would you guess I spend on reading materials in a year? Lots, that's how much. Please don't alert my husband to this fact. Actually, I just did. Cool it, Awesome face, remember who it was that bought me this kindle? That's right! This is entirely your fault! Make me a sandwich!

However, on the flip side, that also means I read at least 40 books worth reading this year. So, if you think about it...I still read like 80 losers. This has to stop. I'd like 2012 to be the year in which that ratio changes. This year I am only going to read 40 loser books! Hah, you just read about my resolution after all. Sneak attack!

Also, after we set that resolution about doing an hour of "something active" last year, Mr. Awesome and I promptly forgot it. We still did active things, but the resolution was entirely pointless (as all New Year resolutions are, but we've had this talk before). Also we learned that it's not so much the time and consistency of the activity that bother us. It's all the things we want to do together that we either forget about or just don't make time for that we regret. So this year we made a list of things we want to do together, whenever we want and in whatever order. I'm not calling it a resolution, so much as a good idea. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a free book about...I dunno, fairies?...waiting to be read. Those 40 loser books don't read themselves, folks. (Unless they do, in which case that's creepy...and the plot to a bad book I'm sure.)