Snippets from a letter sent.

I love writing letters because I always start out self-conscious and fumbly with my hello's and how are you's then something clicks and things become conversational and I'm making observations and connections I hadn't yet voiced or fully realized yet. It's a way to truly be in the moment with someone far away or simply not-very-close. I wrote one such letter (emails count as letters now, sort of, don't they?) today, and thought it summed up pretty perfectly where I am these days. So, hello again, Clare.

Speaking of novel, I started writing one. But how long does it have to be to consider it a novel you've begun? It's the first time I've felt excited about an idea in a really really long time. That alone has been worth it. I'm hoping to ride the momentum until I'm so far in I can't find my way out except to finish it. But these days I'm so exhausted with the publishing and writing world. My writing group is great; it's small and on a scale I can understand and handle. But the idea of going to writing conferences, wrangling an agent, and schmoozing with literary giants makes me squeamish. What happened to the days of publishing under a pseudonym in some local paper and being appreciated after your time? I think that's more my style.

I recently read Andre Dubus III's memoir, Townie. It was amazing, and what has resparked my desire to read everything and write. It was so beautifully written and shed light on a lot of issues that I never was very exposed to but am fascinated by. I've been reading his father's stories, Andre Dubus. In the Bedroom (which I'd seen the movie that's based on one of the stories--Killings, SO GREAT) I'm reading now. And hoping to read House of Sand & Fog (by Andre Dubus III) next. Either way, I'm just glad to be reading again. And just in time for summer-ish weather! It's been cold again this week, but last Saturday's warmth and sandal-wearing and park-napping are still fresh in my memory. I love love Boston in the summer. I always forget and then every AprilMayJuneJuly it all comes flooding back just in time for Fall. 

PS--I bought tickets to go to DC in May, and I couldn't be happier. The next month (half-month!) will be chock full of anticipation for meandering walks, late nights, too much giggling, and bathroom floors. And ice cream. There will be so much ice cream. 

Dear Weekend,

Wow, you're here again, huh? You just couldn't get enough of me.

Dearest PEG, 

Thank you for cleaning the kitchen on Tuesday when I needed it most. Thank you for leaving your shoes for me to wear this weekend as well. You haven't done that last part, but I know you will. Sideways smiley-face.

Dear Jury Duty,

You threw my week off, but you were still an interesting experience. And, hey! I got a free lunch out of you, though you know what they say about those...

Dear March, 

You were almost here before I knew it, but now I'm paying attention. Excited for your calm, your three paychecks, the chance to see Keenan and maybe Cyndi, and my first time sponsoring other blogs. Here's to new steps forward!

Dear Mike, 

It's been so awesome having you home the majority of this week. Can it always be February vacation?

Dear Comcast,

Thank you for installing real Internet a week before office renovations and my marathon working-from-home schedule! You are a breath of relief!

Dear Verizon,

GOOD RIDDANCE.

Dear Philly,

(+ Philly friends) I'll see you around midnight tonight. I hope you're ready to stay up a couple extra hours chatting and watching Robocop 3.

Dear Three-Day Weekend,

Boy are you a sight for sore eyes.

Dear Six Hour Roadtrip,

I'm excited to do you up right with crocheting, playlists, and punchbuggy.

Dear Jim,

I've abandoned you this week. I know, we both knew this was a risk when I took last weekend (and now this weekend) off, but I promise I'll be back next week. 

Dear Mike,

Well, it seems like every day actually does get better with you. I'm glad we decided to spread Valentine's Day across two days and--oh, who am I kidding?--every single day. Thanks for that. 

Dear Virginia Woolf,

I remember hating Mrs. Dalloway, but your selected letters are making me want to take a second look. Thanks for inspiring me to keep in touch.

hello, february.

Hi there, second month toward sweet, sweet Spring. Welcome later sunrises and sunsets, roadtrip to Philly, a full week of Mike at home, growing as a runner, as a writer. You will be the month of plans, of daydreams, of trial and error. The short, sweet, succinct month, the birthday month of this blog. You will be the month of coming out of hibernation, of reminding myself of the city I love, taking full advantage with the knowledge that I will not always be here. We will not always be here.

Dearest Weekend,

Where have you been all my life?

Dear Jenna: We don't get to hang much these days, but I so look forward to curling up on your couch, watching a movie, and enjoying some dessert and wine under the glow of your new Christmas lights!

Dear Black Bean Brownies: I baked you on a whim last night wanting to prove to Mike that the whole black beans in brownies thing isn't weird but actually kind of brilliant. You only called for 1/4 cup of black bean puree, but I still feel like I accomplished something.


Dear Jim (my nickname for the gym): It's been so nice hanging out again! Thanks for welcoming me back with open arms. I can't wait to be strong again.


Dearest Mike: The weekend is here! The weekend is here! Excited for more wandering, cuddling, and amazing feats (with gifted venison, yessssss) in the kitchen.


Dear February: You are fast approaching, and I can't help but reminisce about this time last year when I had just begun falling in love, getting antsy in my job and looking for another one, and writing this here blog. Last year showed a comeback for the littlest month, and I expect no different from 2012.


Dear Property Management Company: It hasn't always been easy or amicable, but you're finally fixing some of the things you said you'd fix back in August. Let's set aside our differences and start over, shall we?

Letters.

Dearest Mak,
I usually don't like rollercoasters because they give me headaches and nausea and bad moods, but nothing beats the day we rode 'coasters in the living room while playing tea and doctor. Miss you.

Dear Morning Version of Me,

Deciding, upon waking up half an hour late, that you should work from home? Best. Decision. Ever. Thanks.

Dear Cyndi,

I hope you understand how I cherish our afternoon gchat vents and advice sessions. 

Dear Mike, 

We'll have been going steady for one year tomorrow. I can hardly believe it! 

Dear sewing machine,

Thanks for keeping me company these past late nights, for making me work for something I want, and for giving me an excuse to watch How I Met Your Mother marathons.

Dear three day weekend,

You are on the tip of my tongue, and you are so so sweet. I look forward to Redbones, New Hampshire, hiking, unfamiliar thrift stores, and ten cent wing night with friends like we're still in college! 

Dear student loans,

I've begun paying on the principle rather than just the interest, and it feels pretty amazing to be kicking your butt. Start preparing yourself for it to be over sooner rather than later. 

Dear future me,

Life doesn't suck right now. Life is full and messy and novel and evolving. I am not so much any of those things - other than messy - right now, and I feel the friction. And I mistake that friction for hardship or a reason for self-pity instead of the pain that tells me I haven't lost my ability to feel yet, the push that teaches me to push back, the corner that teaches me to get creative at building my own windows and doors.

I know you, and I know that you are looking back at me thinking, How cute, you dummy. You no longer feel sorry for me, instead you cherish my affinity for the dramatic - oh the luxury of entertaining it - and my hope in the face of myself. You are proof that I am headed someplace. You are, in theory, that place.

Tell me, how's the food?

xo, present me

(PS - My first article is up at TNGG: Boston: Bye, Bye 9 to 5: The 'Renaissance Career' is Here!)

Who I was then.

In my attempt to get organized on paper, I dug out an old sketchbook a dear friend gave me before moving back to Miami a couple years ago. Stuffed inside the cover I found one of the first letters she sent after moving back along with another letter from another dear friend shortly after she moved home from Boston. There's not much like a handwritten letter - everybody knows that - and having a moment to soak in these two lovely ladies even as they are far, far away made me inhale a bit deeper today, exhale a bit slower and with a smile.

It wasn't just a reminder of an earlier time, but of a previous me: I was living in a different apartment then; I hadn't yet met my boyfriend; I hadn't found my first job and stopped working as a bartender; I was younger, and yet to learn so many of the lessons that stumbled over one another to whomp me over the head in the following years. I had no idea what was coming at me, but I knew that I had these wonderful friendships, these women whose strength inspired my own, whose wisdom shone on the knowledge I often didn't think I possessed. And that was enough to get me through.

I am a different person these days, with different priorities, different routines, different tastes. But I am very familiar and very fond of who I was before, who I was then.

Nerdy ice cream.

As someone considering opening an online shop (and an IRL bakery) someday, I love reading blog posts about the different platform options I have. I recently came across our.city.lights and Diana's post about saying goodbye to etsy and hello to goodsie. Aside from the great insight into these two platforms from the perspective of someone who's actually used and profited from them, I followed the link to her new shop and fell in love with the two styles of postcard pictured above. I got ten postcards for $5, and I couldn't be more excited to get them in the mail and send them right back out. After I hit purchase, I went back to her shop and saw that the Nerd postcards were sold out. Feeling pretty lucky right now.

Go check out Diana's new shop at Goodsie and tell me what you think. Her blog is here.

Today, the rain came.

I've been thinking about letters a lot lately. Modern conveniences like gchat are a wonder at keeping me in touch with friends who have moved away. We are able to share the mundanities of our lives, creating a closeness and immediacy in friendships not available before. But there is still a place and a purpose for handwritten letters. My friend Crysty and I think of them as journal entries that we send away. Writing letters allows you to pause, reflect, and through a one-sided, meandering conversation, truly connect with and reveal yourself to the other person. Daily meals and fleeting worries fall away; what is left is solid and true, meaningful and private.

It rained overnight, and today it is gray outside. Cool and breezy. I relaxed a bit yesterday, had a beer with Meg after work and discussed my hesitation at revealing that I've been wanting to teach lately. I want to become a licensed teacher and teach reading to elementary students or high school English/Literature. And, strikingly, I felt so much better, just saying it. As though, by speaking it, I've brought my ambitions that much closer to realization. She spoke to her mom - who has been both a teacher and a librarian in Massachusetts - and we have a phone date in the near future. I plan to pick her brain, take notes, and (soon after) take action.

What dreams are you afraid to say aloud?