Dear Motivation,

Why hath thou forsaken me? Is it because I had a fling with procrastination? I mean, she's fun and all, but I promise you're way more attractive. And, what can I say, I miss you, baby. I know I done wrong, but please take me back.

After all, you're my baby daddy.

Love,
that girl who is working on getting her groove back [kind of like Stella, only less hip]

Dear Landlords of America,

I write to you to inform you of repeated dire mistakes in your judgment, which are preventing responsible tenants from living a life of joy and fulfillment.

Several of you (mine included) have a 'pet policy,' which only allows pets under 25lbs. On top of this injustice, you demand a ponderous sum of money, commonly known as 'the pet deposit.' And may I direct your attention to the fact no one demands a 'children deposit,' when toddlers are quite often unduly more destructive than a Great Dane.

Now, about this weight limit. All I seem to hear is, "Yeah, pets are fine...except big dogs! I mean I want my house to stay intact! Wouldn't you?" Yes, sir, I do want the house to stay intact because I happen to live there with all my valuable possessions. Possessions in which I refuse to be piddled on and chewed!

For some unknown reason, landlords seem to create a schema in their brains, which connect "big" with "destructive." When, in reality, this is just not the case. Smaller dogs (commonly known as 'little shits') contain smaller bladders than their larger contemporaries, and must pee a whole lot more often. Since their pee cups are so small, they tend to just urinate wherever whenever they see fit, making them difficult to house train. In addition, most larger dogs have less energy and more intelligence than that little Yorkie in the window.

So when I say I want a German Shepherd or an Australian Shepherd, by god, I should not encounter the hindrances that I do with landlords! Stop being ignorant, and look up the damn dog breed for Christ's sake! Google works wonders, and I think you'll find the internet will open your mind so your tenants, who are paying you 1400 dollars a month and living in a COMPLETELY no carpet, all wood flooring house, will finally enjoy their home properly.

Love,

That girl who lives at 298 Coming

Dear Newspapers,

It's time.

It's time for a remodeling, and I think your failure in the current economic crisis is definite evidence for such a need. You may think people are merely too poor to keep buying 21 cents worth of fine printed media, but you'd be wrong.

In reality, the world hates you. Hates your flimsy gargantuan pages, which are impossible to read unless you have a 25 foot long table. Hates your dull gray pages and cheap black ink, which soils our fingers with every turn of the page. Hates your persistent reporting of terrible happenings in the world. If you wrote about rainbow eating puppydogs instead of suicide bombings, I'd be more inclined to continue the full article.

OKAY! I GET IT! The US is STILL in a war with Iraq and Afghanistan! The world is STILL suffering monetary troubles! The Chinese STILL refuse to help Darfur! Let's move on from this wretched negativity, shall we?

Where are the disco-dancing party bears? Where are the gumdrop buttons and candy canes? Where is your dignity!

So I say to you New York Times, Washington Post, and USA Today: change your format and coverage immediately or an angry mob will soon be at your doorstep, demanding good news and decent paper construction.

Love,

That girl who had to follow Russian articles everyday for 3 months

Dear Understandably So,

Let me count the ways I disappoint thee.

1. I SUCK AT LIFE LIKE WHOA.

That pretty much sums it up why I haven't posted in about a gajillion billion years. I am formally apologizing to you, blog, and I hope that you can search within the deep recesses of your pixelated heart to forgive me.

I know I was cheating on you with that CofC admissions blog, but I swear she means nothing to me! NOTHING! If you'll take me back, I'll never desert you again.

Love,

That lady who has to juggle bowling balls, while writing Shakespearean sonnets

Dear Dictionary.com,

Today my word of the day is "qualitative." Are you joking? You must be joking. Most first graders learn the meaning of this word in their premier science class.

Frankly, everyone that signs up for an RSS feed, such as Word of the Day, probably knows every single word of the day I have gotten for the past month. Who doesn't know what obscure means? Or to daunt? What type of person do you think signs up for a fresh bit of education to start their day? Certainly, you cannot believe that a total moron would.

I am a seeker of knowledge! I need innovative and intense language to elevate my diction and style! What am I to do with such words as "iconoclast" or "eminent" or "abate." All extremely useful, no doubt, but even a pig could speak such rudiments.

I demand for you to stop patronizing the masses, procure some originality, and distribute it accordingly. Good day!

Love,

That girl who might be just a little pedantic...just a little

Dear Starbucks on Calhoun St,

I felt like I should inform you that your hours are backwards. Did you realize that you are open until 11pm Sunday through Thursday, but only open until 9pm on Friday and Saturday? Haha! I know! I was shocked silly as well, when I reached your doors on that first Saturday, only to discover the bleak darkness of the inside.

Now, the reason I have finally decided to bring this error to your attention is because of two reasons: 1) I keep forgetting your hours are fucked, and I end up walking to you on a late Friday or Saturday only to curse the entirety of humanity and 2) It's fucking cold outside.

Please, before I develop hypothermia and go insane, change the ridiculousness of your hours post haste. It is your duty, as part of the coffee shop circle, to uphold the traditions of grabbing a cup of joe late into the night!

Love,

That girl who can never get warm even with an anorak and parka on.

Dear Expectations,

I bet you didn't see that coming! Ha!

Love,

That girl who is going to change her major...again

Dear School Bus,

How dare you thrust your stop sign out at me! Commanding my actions as though you are dictator of the universe!

If I want to run over adorable small children, then, by Zeus, I will. I have appointments to get to and meetings to run and World of Warcraft to play. I can't just slow down all willy nilly for things such as "the law."

I stopped for you today, but I assure you that next time you will not be so lucky.

Love,

That girl who thought the little boy getting off the bus in his oversized parka was a cutie-pie

Dear New Year,

People make a lot of fuss over you. Getting shloggered until sunrise. Million dollar fireworks.

And making resolutions.

I refuse to participate in such ridiculous traditions. Yes, you are a new slate, a nascent beginning, but why can't next Monday be the antecedent event that brings a change in life? You're hogging all the hoop-la, and I will have none of it!

I want to have a better body. I want to save enough money for a new car. I want to find a job. I want to get even more motivated for school. I want to do a whole list of things, but I will do all of those things when I damn well please!

You can't trap me in your cyclic doom! I know what happens. You make the resolution. You start toward your goal. Then you gradually lose sight of it because a resolution is never as solid as a true destination. It's merely a suggestion of good intent.

So let me tell you, baby New Year, I'm changing nothing. I'm going nowhere. I'm stagnant for today, and you will not make me feel terrible about it.

Love,

That girl who sometimes greets the new day with resentment and knows that's ok