Dear so and so
Some letters to some people who for the most part don't have livejournal, but oh well I'm writing them anyway.
Dear Amanda Grimsled (Who DOES have livejournal!)
The fact that we somehow ended up wanting the same sort of thing out of life and are ending up in the same lil' town is so astoundingly incredible. I'm sure our mothers are at least freaked out and excited at the same time about it. (For any people reading Amanda's letter who aren't Amanda - our moms grew up across the street from each other. They were like totally BFFs. And then Amanda's mom moved to Wisconsin. Which is very far from MA. But, yay! Amanda and I got to play with each other like once a year, which later turned into once every couple years, which later turned into never but then Amanda decided to move to NY, and I happen to be here already waiting for her.) So YAY US, Amanda! I get to see you soon and I'm so excited, cause I know that every time we actually do get to see each other, we have a blast regardless of how long it's been. And that's great. That's what real friendship should be. We will have many play dates.
..And we'll worship St. Genesius.
Dear Sam Ike,
That time you randomly decided to come to Hofstra for a semester was the best thing ever, because we finally got to see each other again. 10 years apart and somehow we ended up interested in the exact same things and the exact same locations (Hm, sounds like I just wrote this letter.) We will write many funny scripts together, and even though you didn't like it much here at school, I'm glad we at least work at the same mall at home, and I'm glad every time I go to dad's auction I get to see your ridiculously awesome grandmother and your absurdly enjoyable uncles. (For any people reading Sam's letter who aren't Sam, his family has worked at my dad's auction since my dad first started his business. Sam's mom used to work there, and she'd bring tiny Sam, and my dad would bring tiny me, and we'd run around outside the whole time because antique things were boring, and then I stopped going to auctions for the most part, and Sam's mom stopped working there so he did, too...and after not seeing him for around 10 years he suddenly showed up at Hofstra interested in Theatre and film and comedy writing.) We still need to drink lots of coffee, Sam. And the fact that you write scripts with me in mind...that's the most incredible thing I've ever heard, and I can't wait until we can put our heads together and rule the world. Or at least make it giggle. Or snicker, even.
Dear Kelly & Kevs,
I cannot express in words how excited I am for you. I cannot express in interpretive dance how perfect I think you are for each other. I cannot express in paint and canvas how sorry I am that I can't make it out to Michigan and how much I miss you both. I can't wait to see you when you get back to Queens. You must notify me immediately upon your arrival, and then stand in a pre-determined location with flourescent carnations in hand, so that I can spot you from afar without my glasses on. I will meet you at this spot, and we will hug and hold hands and sing and yell and jump around in circles until we pass out. And then we'll go out to dinner. And chat like intellectuals over meager portions of food and generous portions of sangria. As the evening is coming to an end, we'll repeat the same hugging/jumping/etc action as when we'd first met, only now we'll be slightly intoxicated so we'll think it's even more fun. And that will be our grand reunion.
My biggest, most sincere, heart-felt congratulations on your wedding. HAVE FUN TOGETHER. So much fun. Cause I know you will.
PS Kelly, I finally started writing my show. Don't worry. It won't defeat me. I'll still have lots of Kelly time this semester.
(To anyone that is reading this that is not Kelly &/or Kevs...I love Kelly & Kevs.)
Dear Keith,
I've never dated anyone I've liked this much, and I've never dated anyone who has liked me this much. And I've never dated anyone for this long. And sometimes all these firsts are tough for me and my fucked up mind to comprehend - That someone actually cares how I feel, and that I'm being encouraged to share my opinion, and that I don't need to hide everything from you so you'll always think I'm just dandy and happy and swell - That blows my mind. But you stay with me anyway. And I love you.
(For anyone reading the letter to Keith that is not Keith...fuck y'all. I was bein' cute and you had to deal with it, yo.)
Dear Maggie,
I wish you could read. You make me so happy. Of all the young kids - with the exception of actual family - out of anyone I've babysat, taught dance to, taught theatre to, watched during church on Sundays, or what have you, I've never felt more looked up to than I do by you. I hope you remember me when you're big enough to dress yourself. ADORABLE. That's what you are.
(To anyone reading this letter who is not Maggie - which is anyone reading this - You KNOW Maggie is adorable. Today, when my glasses didn't fit on her face, she told me that someday she will be big and they will fit, and then she can be like me. She also told Chris that she was going to school to see her best friend. Yay, I have a tiny little best friend. [Oh, non-Hofstra people...I babysit my professor's 2 year old])
Dear Senior Year,
You're pretty okay so far. Last semester I was pretty ready to skip over you and get the hell away from Hofstra, but you know what? You're not too shabby. Treat me well, treat all my fellow senior friends well, and we will treat you in the same manner. Because it's a Cabaret rule. Snaps to you, senior year.
(To anyone reading this that is not a period of time...because I'm not aware that periods of time can read...make whatever year this is for you the best year ever. [So far.])
Dear Other Seniors,
Come play with me. A LOT. I haven't always hung out with most of the drama ones in the past few semesters, cause I don't get many classes with you. And I haven't gotten to see a lot of kids I was really close with our freshman year, but we know we're still good friends, just unable to hang out much. Well? Fuck that. Please read above where I'm still close with people I didn't get to see for 10 years, or people who lived in Wisconsin. We can do it. This is my motivational speech about it. I'm a politician of The Class of 2009, and I strongly believe we need to have the most fun ever recorded in the history of our lives. Now.
(To anyone reading this that is not a senior of whatever level of school you're in...seniors know more than you. Listen to them. Hahaha...[To anyone who is already done with school...I usually say awwww you're so luckyyyyyyy I can't wait to leavveeeeee! But I think I just changed my mind on that opinion for a while. I wanna wait this year out. How's that sound?])
Dear New York,
I'm coming for you. Watch the fuck out.
(PS: Please FWD to whatever city I may end up in besides New York, as I only use NY as a title location for "The Industry.")
(To anyone reading this that is not a location...because I am also unaware as to whether or not locations can read...next time you're in a location, warn it that I'm coming for it. Maybe locations can hear. Aw hell, I'm a Native American. Of course locations can hear.)
Loooovvvvveeeeeeeeeeeeee,
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo,
Reb.
Dear Amanda Grimsled (Who DOES have livejournal!)
The fact that we somehow ended up wanting the same sort of thing out of life and are ending up in the same lil' town is so astoundingly incredible. I'm sure our mothers are at least freaked out and excited at the same time about it. (For any people reading Amanda's letter who aren't Amanda - our moms grew up across the street from each other. They were like totally BFFs. And then Amanda's mom moved to Wisconsin. Which is very far from MA. But, yay! Amanda and I got to play with each other like once a year, which later turned into once every couple years, which later turned into never but then Amanda decided to move to NY, and I happen to be here already waiting for her.) So YAY US, Amanda! I get to see you soon and I'm so excited, cause I know that every time we actually do get to see each other, we have a blast regardless of how long it's been. And that's great. That's what real friendship should be. We will have many play dates.
..And we'll worship St. Genesius.
Dear Sam Ike,
That time you randomly decided to come to Hofstra for a semester was the best thing ever, because we finally got to see each other again. 10 years apart and somehow we ended up interested in the exact same things and the exact same locations (Hm, sounds like I just wrote this letter.) We will write many funny scripts together, and even though you didn't like it much here at school, I'm glad we at least work at the same mall at home, and I'm glad every time I go to dad's auction I get to see your ridiculously awesome grandmother and your absurdly enjoyable uncles. (For any people reading Sam's letter who aren't Sam, his family has worked at my dad's auction since my dad first started his business. Sam's mom used to work there, and she'd bring tiny Sam, and my dad would bring tiny me, and we'd run around outside the whole time because antique things were boring, and then I stopped going to auctions for the most part, and Sam's mom stopped working there so he did, too...and after not seeing him for around 10 years he suddenly showed up at Hofstra interested in Theatre and film and comedy writing.) We still need to drink lots of coffee, Sam. And the fact that you write scripts with me in mind...that's the most incredible thing I've ever heard, and I can't wait until we can put our heads together and rule the world. Or at least make it giggle. Or snicker, even.
Dear Kelly & Kevs,
I cannot express in words how excited I am for you. I cannot express in interpretive dance how perfect I think you are for each other. I cannot express in paint and canvas how sorry I am that I can't make it out to Michigan and how much I miss you both. I can't wait to see you when you get back to Queens. You must notify me immediately upon your arrival, and then stand in a pre-determined location with flourescent carnations in hand, so that I can spot you from afar without my glasses on. I will meet you at this spot, and we will hug and hold hands and sing and yell and jump around in circles until we pass out. And then we'll go out to dinner. And chat like intellectuals over meager portions of food and generous portions of sangria. As the evening is coming to an end, we'll repeat the same hugging/jumping/etc action as when we'd first met, only now we'll be slightly intoxicated so we'll think it's even more fun. And that will be our grand reunion.
My biggest, most sincere, heart-felt congratulations on your wedding. HAVE FUN TOGETHER. So much fun. Cause I know you will.
PS Kelly, I finally started writing my show. Don't worry. It won't defeat me. I'll still have lots of Kelly time this semester.
(To anyone that is reading this that is not Kelly &/or Kevs...I love Kelly & Kevs.)
Dear Keith,
I've never dated anyone I've liked this much, and I've never dated anyone who has liked me this much. And I've never dated anyone for this long. And sometimes all these firsts are tough for me and my fucked up mind to comprehend - That someone actually cares how I feel, and that I'm being encouraged to share my opinion, and that I don't need to hide everything from you so you'll always think I'm just dandy and happy and swell - That blows my mind. But you stay with me anyway. And I love you.
(For anyone reading the letter to Keith that is not Keith...fuck y'all. I was bein' cute and you had to deal with it, yo.)
Dear Maggie,
I wish you could read. You make me so happy. Of all the young kids - with the exception of actual family - out of anyone I've babysat, taught dance to, taught theatre to, watched during church on Sundays, or what have you, I've never felt more looked up to than I do by you. I hope you remember me when you're big enough to dress yourself. ADORABLE. That's what you are.
(To anyone reading this letter who is not Maggie - which is anyone reading this - You KNOW Maggie is adorable. Today, when my glasses didn't fit on her face, she told me that someday she will be big and they will fit, and then she can be like me. She also told Chris that she was going to school to see her best friend. Yay, I have a tiny little best friend. [Oh, non-Hofstra people...I babysit my professor's 2 year old])
Dear Senior Year,
You're pretty okay so far. Last semester I was pretty ready to skip over you and get the hell away from Hofstra, but you know what? You're not too shabby. Treat me well, treat all my fellow senior friends well, and we will treat you in the same manner. Because it's a Cabaret rule. Snaps to you, senior year.
(To anyone reading this that is not a period of time...because I'm not aware that periods of time can read...make whatever year this is for you the best year ever. [So far.])
Dear Other Seniors,
Come play with me. A LOT. I haven't always hung out with most of the drama ones in the past few semesters, cause I don't get many classes with you. And I haven't gotten to see a lot of kids I was really close with our freshman year, but we know we're still good friends, just unable to hang out much. Well? Fuck that. Please read above where I'm still close with people I didn't get to see for 10 years, or people who lived in Wisconsin. We can do it. This is my motivational speech about it. I'm a politician of The Class of 2009, and I strongly believe we need to have the most fun ever recorded in the history of our lives. Now.
(To anyone reading this that is not a senior of whatever level of school you're in...seniors know more than you. Listen to them. Hahaha...[To anyone who is already done with school...I usually say awwww you're so luckyyyyyyy I can't wait to leavveeeeee! But I think I just changed my mind on that opinion for a while. I wanna wait this year out. How's that sound?])
Dear New York,
I'm coming for you. Watch the fuck out.
(PS: Please FWD to whatever city I may end up in besides New York, as I only use NY as a title location for "The Industry.")
(To anyone reading this that is not a location...because I am also unaware as to whether or not locations can read...next time you're in a location, warn it that I'm coming for it. Maybe locations can hear. Aw hell, I'm a Native American. Of course locations can hear.)
Loooovvvvveeeeeeeeeeeeee,
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo,
Reb.