You're back.
Screw you.
Just when everything in my life is starting to work out for the better, you decide to roll on back into town like a not-friend who I don't want to talk to. You demand my time, my focus, my ability to write or think or do absolutely anything. You don't want me to knit, so I don't knit. You decide that my hobbies are pointless, so I don't do them. Not like I could anyway. You're such an energy drain that it's not like I could muster up the strength to pick up a project.
This happens every year. Just as my favorite season rolls around, so do you. Perhaps it's my allergies (I love fall but I'm also allergic to it), perhaps it's that August usually sucks for some reason and you just decide to come on in with that, perhaps it's that fall signifies everything I love and you don't want me to love it.
Either way, you suck.
But this year, I've got good meds and I'm fighting back. I've got too much stuff to do this year. I have socks to knit and clothes to sew. I have code to write and places to go and food to make and things that absolutely must be finished by Christmas. I actually have stuff that has to be done, and whether or not you care about that is not going to be considered when I make my plans.
The fact of the matter is, I simply don't have time for you this year.
Please go away, and don't let the door hit you on the way out.
-Me
Showing posts with label letter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label letter. Show all posts
Thursday, October 17, 2013
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Letters to My Ratty Grey Sweater
Dear Grey Sweater:
Remember the day I got you? You were just hanging there in that consignment shop. I'd been looking for a casual sweater to wear to class and you were perfect. I could wear you over a pastel tank top with my hair in a clip and a pair of jeans and look like a million bucks. Okay, maybe not that good but at least I didn't look like I'd fallen out of bed. You draped perfectly over my shoulders and around my frame just so. You didn't look too baggy, or too tight.
You were, in a word, the best sweater ever.
-Me
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Grey Sweater:
Remember the day I first wore you to my job at the cafe? That was not our finest moment. You were covering up my shivers since it was late spring in the mountains and it was chilly out. I only owned khaki shorts and the boss lady had problems with blue jeans. So it was shorts and work t-shirts in the cool mornings and you were the right color to cover up my cold arms with.
That day I showed off my impeccable klutziness. I'd accidentally spilled an entire tray of coffee all over the two of us. We both smelled like old coffee by the time we got home. It took you a week to wash out.
-Me
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Grey Sweater:
That first hole in the seam near the hood was a warning sign. I'd been taking you for granted. I pinned you up with a safety pin and went about my fall day. I wasn't working in the restaurant anymore. I was working at a desk from home. Those were good days, remember?
-Me
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Grey Sweater:
Maybe the camping trip to Estes Park for the Wool Market was a bad idea. You snagged on a pole on the tent. That was worrying, but you appeared to be okay. I'm sorry I left you at the campground. I was going into a room full of other, more accomplished knitters than I and I simply couldn't bear the embarrassment of wearing a machine made sweater instead of a handknit one.
You were so resentful you managed to drag into a puddle that night when I tried to put you on. I'm still sorry about that.
-Me
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Grey Sweater:
Going back to college was wonderful, wasn't it? We were almost inseparable in some of the classrooms. Those lecture halls are over-airconditioned, even in the wintertime. You fit nicely into my jackets - especially the lightweight canvas one you looked so nice in. It was just a little warmer in the elements, but not so warm as my winter coat. You made that winter so much more comfortable.
-Me
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Grey Sweater:
The bagginess is unbecoming of you. Why would you do that? Especially on a day like this? I need you to pull yourself together and be a decent sweater, please. I'll put on something else and we'll talk about this later. I'm late.
-Me
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Grey Sweater:
You never used to fall off my shoulders in public.
-Me
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Ratty Grey Sweater:
It's time. The rifts in our relationship are simply to wide to bear. Just like a couple who fights too often, I find myself growing tired of you. I keep looking at grey cotton yarn online and perusing hooded cardigan patterns on Ravelry.
The holes in all of your seams are too large for me to even attempt to sew closed anymore. I tried in the past, but you've started making new holes before the old ones are even finished closing. The fraying in the cuffs is no longer something I can ignore. You're baggy and saggy in the sleeves and along the bottom where you weren't before. You no longer make me look like I didn't just roll out of bed, but now you make a point of emphasizing my unflattering parts. I no longer look lean under you, and while I have gained some weight that doesn't excuse the insult.
You have button loops that are coming apart, and one of the button's strings is fraying. I thought that was such a sturdy string, but I guess it wasn't. In fact, the sturdiness you showed me at the beginning of our relationship is gone now. You're a limp pile of threadbare cotton, and I dread coming across you in the closet.
In fact, I don't even know why I've been talking to you as if you were a person. You are a sweater. An inanimate object. If my wits were about me, I'd simply throw you away since you probably wouldn't hold up for five minutes in the donation bag.
So this is goodbye. I shall be saving up for some lovely Katia Pima Cotton in a fitting grey and knitting something more suitable for my needs.
-Me
Remember the day I got you? You were just hanging there in that consignment shop. I'd been looking for a casual sweater to wear to class and you were perfect. I could wear you over a pastel tank top with my hair in a clip and a pair of jeans and look like a million bucks. Okay, maybe not that good but at least I didn't look like I'd fallen out of bed. You draped perfectly over my shoulders and around my frame just so. You didn't look too baggy, or too tight.
You were, in a word, the best sweater ever.
-Me
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Grey Sweater:
Remember the day I first wore you to my job at the cafe? That was not our finest moment. You were covering up my shivers since it was late spring in the mountains and it was chilly out. I only owned khaki shorts and the boss lady had problems with blue jeans. So it was shorts and work t-shirts in the cool mornings and you were the right color to cover up my cold arms with.
That day I showed off my impeccable klutziness. I'd accidentally spilled an entire tray of coffee all over the two of us. We both smelled like old coffee by the time we got home. It took you a week to wash out.
-Me
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Grey Sweater:
That first hole in the seam near the hood was a warning sign. I'd been taking you for granted. I pinned you up with a safety pin and went about my fall day. I wasn't working in the restaurant anymore. I was working at a desk from home. Those were good days, remember?
-Me
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Grey Sweater:
Maybe the camping trip to Estes Park for the Wool Market was a bad idea. You snagged on a pole on the tent. That was worrying, but you appeared to be okay. I'm sorry I left you at the campground. I was going into a room full of other, more accomplished knitters than I and I simply couldn't bear the embarrassment of wearing a machine made sweater instead of a handknit one.
You were so resentful you managed to drag into a puddle that night when I tried to put you on. I'm still sorry about that.
-Me
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Grey Sweater:
Going back to college was wonderful, wasn't it? We were almost inseparable in some of the classrooms. Those lecture halls are over-airconditioned, even in the wintertime. You fit nicely into my jackets - especially the lightweight canvas one you looked so nice in. It was just a little warmer in the elements, but not so warm as my winter coat. You made that winter so much more comfortable.
-Me
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Grey Sweater:
The bagginess is unbecoming of you. Why would you do that? Especially on a day like this? I need you to pull yourself together and be a decent sweater, please. I'll put on something else and we'll talk about this later. I'm late.
-Me
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Grey Sweater:
You never used to fall off my shoulders in public.
-Me
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Ratty Grey Sweater:
It's time. The rifts in our relationship are simply to wide to bear. Just like a couple who fights too often, I find myself growing tired of you. I keep looking at grey cotton yarn online and perusing hooded cardigan patterns on Ravelry.
The holes in all of your seams are too large for me to even attempt to sew closed anymore. I tried in the past, but you've started making new holes before the old ones are even finished closing. The fraying in the cuffs is no longer something I can ignore. You're baggy and saggy in the sleeves and along the bottom where you weren't before. You no longer make me look like I didn't just roll out of bed, but now you make a point of emphasizing my unflattering parts. I no longer look lean under you, and while I have gained some weight that doesn't excuse the insult.
You have button loops that are coming apart, and one of the button's strings is fraying. I thought that was such a sturdy string, but I guess it wasn't. In fact, the sturdiness you showed me at the beginning of our relationship is gone now. You're a limp pile of threadbare cotton, and I dread coming across you in the closet.
In fact, I don't even know why I've been talking to you as if you were a person. You are a sweater. An inanimate object. If my wits were about me, I'd simply throw you away since you probably wouldn't hold up for five minutes in the donation bag.
So this is goodbye. I shall be saving up for some lovely Katia Pima Cotton in a fitting grey and knitting something more suitable for my needs.
-Me
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
My Deepest Apologies to the ABC 4 Journalist I Lied To
Dear ABC4 Salt Lake News Caster Woman who I forgot the name of,
I apologize for lying to you this afternoon. When I went out to the Gateway mall after a shockingly long ordeal at the bank, it was to pick up a birthday gift for a friend. She wanted a new journal, and by jove, I was going to get one for her.* So when you approached me and asked if I would talk to you about seasonal allergies, I was thrown a little off guard. Usually when someone I don't know approaches me with an unusual proposition I've become remarkably good at pretending I don't speak English.
When you asked if I would be okay with it, I told you I wasn't comfortable with the interview and that I was camera shy. I briefly entertained the notion of telling you that I didn't want some random creeper who I'd pretended to only speak German with to go "I saw you on ABC4! I know you speak English!" This was a lie. Really, I was insulted by what you (as in ABC "you," not you personally) considered news.
See, I'm a Journalism student myself. I understand what constitutes newsworthiness. I understand that if something is annual, it might be newsworthy - like Christmas or Burning Man. I also understand that if it's annual and something nobody cares about like the sun rising in the east and setting in the west... it's not news!
If the sun were to suddenly rise in the west and set in the east one day, that would be news. If people at Burning Man were to act as if they had a sense of dignity and/or social skills, that would be news. If Christmas were to inexplicably fall on the 28th of December, that would be news.
Seasonal allergies are just not news. They do not fall into the standards of newsworthiness because nobody wants to think about them. They are not something I want to talk about, nor are they a subject I want to watch on the news.
So once again, I apologize. I hope I didn't make your job too much harder. Human interest is important, but I just didn't want that human interest to be me.
*It should be noted that I hightailed it out of there so fast I never did get my friend's birthday gift. I felt guilty and didn't want to accidentally run into her again. In retrospect, she probably wouldn't have cared either way.
I apologize for lying to you this afternoon. When I went out to the Gateway mall after a shockingly long ordeal at the bank, it was to pick up a birthday gift for a friend. She wanted a new journal, and by jove, I was going to get one for her.* So when you approached me and asked if I would talk to you about seasonal allergies, I was thrown a little off guard. Usually when someone I don't know approaches me with an unusual proposition I've become remarkably good at pretending I don't speak English.
When you asked if I would be okay with it, I told you I wasn't comfortable with the interview and that I was camera shy. I briefly entertained the notion of telling you that I didn't want some random creeper who I'd pretended to only speak German with to go "I saw you on ABC4! I know you speak English!" This was a lie. Really, I was insulted by what you (as in ABC "you," not you personally) considered news.
See, I'm a Journalism student myself. I understand what constitutes newsworthiness. I understand that if something is annual, it might be newsworthy - like Christmas or Burning Man. I also understand that if it's annual and something nobody cares about like the sun rising in the east and setting in the west... it's not news!
If the sun were to suddenly rise in the west and set in the east one day, that would be news. If people at Burning Man were to act as if they had a sense of dignity and/or social skills, that would be news. If Christmas were to inexplicably fall on the 28th of December, that would be news.
Seasonal allergies are just not news. They do not fall into the standards of newsworthiness because nobody wants to think about them. They are not something I want to talk about, nor are they a subject I want to watch on the news.
So once again, I apologize. I hope I didn't make your job too much harder. Human interest is important, but I just didn't want that human interest to be me.
*It should be noted that I hightailed it out of there so fast I never did get my friend's birthday gift. I felt guilty and didn't want to accidentally run into her again. In retrospect, she probably wouldn't have cared either way.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Letter of Termination
Dear Skylar the Dell Laptop:
It is with a somewhat heavy heart that I feel I must write this post. You have been my laptop for the past two years or so. In that time, we have shared somewhat of an intimacy that I haven't shared with most of my other previous computers. You were there when I felt crazy and needed to write angsty poetry to describe my craziness. You were there when I began my decent into the world of social media by starting not only my Facebook and Ravelry pages, but my twitter, blog, LibraryThing and DeviantArt pages as well. You were there for countless papers, long nights online, and long showings of obscure foreign films on Netflix. You have done quite a bit of work over the years for my job, barely working under the weight of the load called "Adobe." You have, indeed, been my constant companion over the last two years.
However, I should state that despite all of this, nothing you have done has been without great personal cost to me.
I have never had a day of peace in my computing with you. It has always been a fight to remain online, to work without crashing, and to run the way I ask you to. A year ago, it was discovered that you were disabled by a defective motherboard, and you handled yourself admirably. However, the replacement has not worked to my liking.
Recently, the refusal to upload a blog post was the final straw. And so, as it would be with an employee who does not meet office standards (and you would never want to feel that I was keeping you out of a sense of duty), that I feel I must fire you. You are being replaced as of today. Hand over your vast files and leave the building.
Your replacement? With any luck she will be a far better employee than you. I present:
Momo-Tan Mac.
It's been a good run, good buddy. Good, but not great. And after you've been reformatted and turned into a computer to run John's audiology software, I'm sure you'll have a much better time of things.
It is with a somewhat heavy heart that I feel I must write this post. You have been my laptop for the past two years or so. In that time, we have shared somewhat of an intimacy that I haven't shared with most of my other previous computers. You were there when I felt crazy and needed to write angsty poetry to describe my craziness. You were there when I began my decent into the world of social media by starting not only my Facebook and Ravelry pages, but my twitter, blog, LibraryThing and DeviantArt pages as well. You were there for countless papers, long nights online, and long showings of obscure foreign films on Netflix. You have done quite a bit of work over the years for my job, barely working under the weight of the load called "Adobe." You have, indeed, been my constant companion over the last two years.
However, I should state that despite all of this, nothing you have done has been without great personal cost to me.
I have never had a day of peace in my computing with you. It has always been a fight to remain online, to work without crashing, and to run the way I ask you to. A year ago, it was discovered that you were disabled by a defective motherboard, and you handled yourself admirably. However, the replacement has not worked to my liking.
Recently, the refusal to upload a blog post was the final straw. And so, as it would be with an employee who does not meet office standards (and you would never want to feel that I was keeping you out of a sense of duty), that I feel I must fire you. You are being replaced as of today. Hand over your vast files and leave the building.
Your replacement? With any luck she will be a far better employee than you. I present:
Momo-Tan Mac.
It's been a good run, good buddy. Good, but not great. And after you've been reformatted and turned into a computer to run John's audiology software, I'm sure you'll have a much better time of things.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
