Wednesday Letters: Thanksgiving

Dear Thanksgiving,

I don't hate you.

It's just that I don't have a lot of decorations.

And Christmas has glitter and twinkle lights and sweets.

You, on the other hand, have lots of heavy food... and football games... and shopping. Which I love. It just makes it difficult to decorate.

So don't think that because my Christmas decorations have come out and the Christmas movies are playing, and I'm dancing to Christmas music that I'm over you.

I'm not.

I like you.

I just like Christmas a little more.

Don't cry too much.

 [source]

Love,

Emery

Wednesday Letters: To the Costume Makers

Dear Costume Makers,

I don't believe in dressing up for Halloween.

Maybe because my mother didn't like finding me costumes or she often went with a homemade outfit that just wasn't as cool as my friends.

But even if I did like dressing up... I have yet to find a costume that isn't slutty. Seriously? Does Strawberry Shortcake REALLY need to be slutty? You're making a mockery of my childhood.

Just sayin'.

Cordially,

Emery

Wednesday Letters: Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

89 days.

89 days until Christmas.

I'm putting in my order a little early. I hope you don't mind. I promise to: 

*still be good

*try to be nicer

*have a better attitude at work

*not complain as much

*do all of my homework

*be happy

Here's what I'm asking for:

*a boyfriend (I know... I ask every year. But I just keep hoping that maybe you'll come through).

*10 lbs. magically to disappear, preferably from my butt and thigh region.

*nail polish that won't chip on my fingers. How in the heck does it stay for a MONTH on my feet, but it won't last two days on my fingers. This is a problem that needs to be addressed.

*a song written just for me. Maybe you don't have to deliver this. It could accompany gift option #1. Just sayin'. 

That's all. Not too tall of an order, right? Better than the Barbie mansion I asked for like 12 years ago (which you never brought... thankyouverymuch). 

With fondest regards,

Emery

Wednesday Letters: New Bed, Old Bed

Dear New Bed,

I'm so excited for you to be shipped and to arrive here in the next couple of weeks.

I feel so excited. I'm graduating to my own bed. A queen sized bed. And you are beautiful:

I've dreamed about you for years (seriously... years). 

Just wait to see how I dress you up.

Dear Old Bed,

You're a twin. 

You just don't make the cut anymore.

But we've had a good run. A really good run.

I'll miss you.

I don't think you'll miss me. Not with my whining and my tears that seemed to come every night.

I'll give you a good home. I promise.

Love,

Emery

Wednesday Letters: To the Decision Makers

Dear Decision Makers,

Really?

REALLY?

You had to move him?

Things were just getting good. Just ask anyone. They were enjoying the awkward moments, the teasing, etc. 

And now you're breaking it up. Before it even started. 

My mom says that maybe this is how it's supposed to happen. 

I, on the other hand, am trying hard not to lift an angry fist to you right now. 

It seems that kismet only takes you so far. But you couldn't let me experiment just a little longer?

Cordially,

Emery

Wednesday Letters: First Week of School

Dear New School Semester,

I was so excited for you to arrive. I ordered my books and marked due dates on my Google calendar much earlier than anticipated. I didn't want to miss a thing.

And then you arrived.

I miss my free time. I miss being able to read fun books. I'm already tired of you. I'm sick of reading about research methods and copyright laws. I'm seriously contemplating my desire to get a masters degree. But I will persevere. I will finish my degree.

Then I will try and figure out what I'm going to do since library funding is being cut and there's just not that many jobs out there. *sigh*

Regards,

Emery

Wednesday Letters: Ode to My Bicycle

Dear Shirli (aka my bicycle),

I have been in love with you since my parents gave you to me for Christmas. We only rode together once, down to Lucy Q's house and I knew that we were going to be the best of friends.

February brought more sunshine and warmer weather (unusually warm) and a Saturday ride with some other friends. But then I put you away thinking that when it got warmer we'd take rides everywhere.

I failed in that regard.

Until a week ago this past Saturday. I pulled you out and we rode for maybe three miles. That was all I had time for. But since then, I've fallen back in love with you. We've already gone eight miles and seven miles another day. 

You really are my best friend and I hope for new rides. (Maybe I'm also hoping that you make my butt look tighter. Just sayin' it'd be nice.)

Love,

Emery

Wednesday Letters: Late Night Chats

Dear Sister-in-Law,

Thanks for staying up later than normal to chat with me and alleviate my stress about this Friday. I sure have missed these talks since you've been off in Europe for awhile. 

And I'm guessing we're probably going to have more of these chats. At least, that's what I'm hoping for. 

Love,

Emery

Wednesday Letters: Numbers on the Clock

Dear 2:40 AM,

I didn't even know you existed (except for the rare case of the flu).  And this morning, I greeted you so that I could get down to work on a film set.

I hope we don't meet again any time soon.

Regards,

Emery

Wednesday Letters: New Apartment

Dear New Apartment:

I know you're out there, somewhere.
I'm having trouble finding you.
I'm flexible in my rent (though not terribly flexible... I'm still looking for a good deal) 
and I'm good with certain areas. (I just don't want to live below gypsies with the laundry room being the cement hut under the back porch.
Could you throw up the signal when I'm getting close? I'd rather play the hot/cold game when I know where to look.

Looking for you desperately,

Emery

Wednesday Letters: Rising From the Ashes

Dear Batman Fans,

It was a glorious show.

I felt it in my bones. The chills. The emotions. The heightened sense of fear.

Two hours and 45 minutes? That's a long movie.

It didn't feel like it. 

And I want to go again. 

Regards,

Emery

Wednesday Letters: Creators of Gilmore Girls

Dear Creators of Gilmore Girls,

Thank you.

Somehow, I didn't discover your TV show until it was in its last season. But I bought the complete series.

And every year I have a marathon. 

I remind myself that maybe I am a small-town girl, even if I grew up in a suburb of a coastal city. And maybe I do dream of a boy wearing a backwards baseball cap who comes and rescues me. 

And maybe I dream big dreams of writing for the New York Times (even if my time to make such choices has long since passed). 

So, thanks for letting me relive those moments. And enjoy Stars Hollow once again.

love,

Emery

Wednesday Letters: Future Daughters

Dearest future daughters:

You are welcome to play dress up. I'll help you transform a blanket into a ball gown. And we'll deck out with necklaces and crowns and say we're princesses.

At night, I'll tell you fairy tales. The stories about your great-grandparents, and your grandparents, and maybe some of your aunts and uncles. And I'll tell you my fairy tale story. 

And as you get older, I'll tell you the other stories. The stories of heartbreak and the stories of humor. 

And I'll remind you that your fairy tale will happen too. Because I've held onto that belief for a long time. It will happen to you.

Love,

Emery

Wednesday Letters: Other Girls

Dear Other girls,

Can't we all just get along? 

Why do we have to fight over boys? 

We're fine until some cute boy enters the room and then suddenly it's like we descend to animal instinct. We no longer can be ourselves, but spend our time trying to keep his attention on ourselves. No matter how stupid that is. 

And it doesn't matter how many times we look at each other and in our normal, non-boy interrupted time and make promises to not get in each other's way. It always happens. And then one or both of us will back away from him and everybody loses.

Let's take a moment and realize that while I totally agree with "sisters before misters", I also believe that my friends deserve to find happiness. And if that's with a guy I'm interested (who is obviously not interested in me), that's okay too. You move on. Maybe you take a step away from that guy and give him space. 

But surely, keeping another girl from a guy that could have interest in them because you like him? That's low.

So, let's be classy, girls. Let's work together. And let's not be dinosaurs in the game of dating (to be explained in a post probably tomorrow... The Parable of Jurassic Park as my roommate calls it).

Love,

Emery

Wednesday Letters: Puppy

Dear Future Puppy,

I can't wait to meet you. Of course, you are coming home to a loud, ridiculous family. I couldn't get a puppy when I was single. It wouldn't have been fair to leave you locked up all day while I was out at work. 

And so, my reward for having a family is getting you.

Oh the things we are going to do together. We're going to play with the frisbee. You're going to love swimming. And when you get big, the kids are going to use you as a pillow while we have family movie night. 

You will be their best friend. You're going to sleep at the foot of someone's bed every night and I'm sure you and I will have plenty of time to talk. 

I'm so glad we got you and brought you home. I hope you're glad too.

Love,

Emery 

Wednesday Letters: The Graduate

Dear high school graduate,

Congratulations. You passed. You survived high school. That's a big deal! Give yourself a pat on the back and enjoy this moment.

Now. Here's my advice to you. It's time to figure out what you love. What you're passionate about. But also what kind of career you want. And then ask people how they got there. 

I'd say 60% of the time (it's maybe more... I might be low-balling it.) most people don't have a degree that is in the industry they work in. I work with intellectual property (copyrights) and the legal rights of a company. My undergraduate degree is in Modern American History. You have to learn about "transferrable skills." What I mean by that is that you're never defined by the jobs that you've had, but rather the skills you gain. I know I don't have a legal background, but my degree taught me how to research, how to logically put together a report that shows the rights of our company in regards to a specific product, etc. I gained these skills and can turn them to help me with any job change.

Now, for some advice specifically to any graduating girls. Girls. I know you think that you will marry one day and so you think—why should I even bother getting a REAL degree? I love writing poetry. I should just get a degree in that. I was there. Eleven years ago, I had the same thoughts. I could just be a writer. And then I got old (okay... maybe not really old, I'm 29, but I'll count that as old). I realized that marriage may come but really I need to be doing something that I'm good at, something that I love, but also something that made me money. Money so that I could live.

I guess what I'm saying is while you're waiting for Prince Charming to show up, maybe take your writing skills and get a degree in communication and advertising. You can use those skills to write jingles or slogans. Because heaven knows that there was some brilliant closet poet who came up with "Every kiss begins with 'Kay'" or "Whenever there is fun there's always Coca Cola." See? 

You just have to think outside of the box a little bit. And ask around. You'll always get plenty of advice.

Now, go enjoy your summer. Live it up (not too much). And good luck in college.

Regards,

Emery

Wednesday Letters: Twin

Dear Twin,

There is so much to say.

First, congratulations on your recent MBA degree. You started a semester before me and graduated with a masters two years earlier than I will. It shows your brilliance and your tenacity. Thank you for letting me edit your essays for your applications. It helped me to gain a bit of insight into you.

From back in the day... when you started to get taller than me. I never caught up.

Secondly, I know we've had our moments. Not our finest moments. Our moments when one or both of us have not been at our best. When we have fought, in public, or said very mean and hurtful things with the intent to do damage. But we've also overcome those. There are times when I wish we were closer, when I wish I could call you up and talk to you about the boy situations that exist in my life and get your feedback on what I'm doing wrong or have you tell me that I'm doing okay and the guys around me are losers. But that's never going to be our relationship. That's not how it works. 

I send you a tweet about wireless routers and you respond with links to deals. That's how our relationship works. You're there when I need you to solve the problem. The solid, tangible problem. And I'm around to make sure that your grammar is correct. And that you don't mix up "cheddar" for "cedar". (Yes... I will continue to hold that over your head.)

I love watching you with your son. He's looking so much like you. And he's so... the only word I have for him is a Spanish word. Él es muy listo. I like to think that he gets that from you. But I'm sure it's a conglomerate of you and your wife. 

Today, I'm grateful for you. I love you. And I'm so proud to call you my twin. You and I are special. Let's remember that.

With love,

Emery

Wednesday Letters: Future Husband

Wednesdays are the days when I write a letter to someone in my life (past, present, or future) and tell them something. Hence the title, Wednesday Letters.

Dear Future Husband,

I don't want to dance at our wedding. Please don't make me.

I will dance while I clean the kitchen. 

I will dance when I'm back from a run and a good song is on. 

And I will dance with you every day after our wedding.

Just don't make me dance in front of everyone.

I don't want them to see my lack of rhythm.

It's vain and selfish of me, I know.

But I am who I am.

Love, 

Emery

Wednesday Letters: Twix

Wednesdays are the days when I write a letter to someone in my life (past, present, or future) and tell them something. Hence the title, Wednesday Letters.

Dear Twix,

I sure do miss you, my puppy. 

I miss how happy you were to always see me. I miss those brown eyes that were so expressive. You knew when you had done something wrong. It was apparent to everyone, including you. But you'd look at me with those eyes and I would want you to get punished.

You were always so happy to be around people and the cats. You never seemed to understand that some people were afraid of you. I know. Ridiculous. Afraid of Twix? It just wasn't right.

Remember how you learned to dive in the pool?

That was my favorite part of summer. Swimming with you.

Whenever I think about my future life, I always know there's going to be a dog in it. Somewhere. But I'm afraid to get another chocolate lab. Because I don't want her to replace you. But I don't think another dog ever will. You were with me for 15 years... pretty much my teenage years. And you still remembered me when I came home after living abroad for so long. 

Maybe I'll get another chocolate lab. But I promise not to name her after a candy bar.

Wednesday Letters: The Question Mark

Wednesdays are the days when I write a letter to someone in my life (past, present, or future) and tell them something. Hence the title, Wednesday Letters.

Dear Question Mark,

I think it's been seven years. Seven years since I wrote you and discovered you had gotten married. I say it as if it was a surprise. It shouldn't have been. You were funny and charming and so good. 

I enjoyed getting letters from you, for writing for two years. You made me laugh. I learned how to be a good pen pal. 

I'm sad that I still have this question mark. That you're the question mark. Maybe if I hadn't left when I did. Maybe... I could've waited. Six months? That would've been enough to see, decide, change my mind. 

Maybe is a powerful word. It does nothing except have this insane ability to make me stop and worry and wonder--and not in a positive, constructive type of way. It's a powerful and useless word. I try to forget that it's in my vocabulary. And maybe one day I'll forget you.

At the end of my life, it will have been just a blip on the spectrum. A small moment in the long timeline. But I'll be grateful for that blip. And for the moment, I think about that time and you, my question mark.