Lalalalala...Letters from my sweetest friend M
07.21.04 (12:25 am) [edit]
Dear Mariana,
Today I was thinking that I often disregard our correspondence, only to find I have much to say and no where to write it upon.
Your American friend President Cowboy should call me. I have quite the policy experience and have decided that I, as a supremely intelligent Belgian, could run your country better then he has done thus far.
I will have to make this short. I am thinking that there is something wrong in your family life, because that is when you become saddened and write disgustingly self-deprecating and whiney self-absorbing crap.
Having said this, I believe this is one of two things, or perhaps both of two things: You have decided to fixate on your status as only sane person in that lot of yours or you have convinced yourself that if anyone knew your family secrets (secrets? you fucking put them on the internet...) they would instantly not be in love with you....Hence, the grossly inadequate Betty Bender quote.
You fool. I will not even give you any leeway on this one. I think you have enough rope, so strangle yourself. My advice? Shut up- throw it in in conversation--
Like he will say, 'Darling lover girl, what would you like for dinner?'
and you can simply answer with this:
'Pumpkin. I think you should know my parents are highly entertaining but constantly battling one addiction or another. They once let the twelve year old drive for gods sake! (At this point laugh and throw your hands in the air) So anyway, I had a little too much fun in high school because they were to valium-ed up to note my misbehavior. I still have to have constant watch over them, if you love me you'll just have to witness and deal. Oh, yes-- depression runs in the family also--but not to worry, I have overcome a terribly traumatic episode with ease and now whenever the lithium is needed for one person or another, I am a pretty keen nut house nurse.'
And he will most undoubtedly continue ogling you and thinking that he is the luckiest person on earth.
Cross that fucking bridge when you get there. If he doesn't ask, you're not 'keeping' something from him: You're simply deciding that if he sticks around long enough to witness your mother and father throwing shoes and then kitchen utensils and alcohol at a pizza delivery man, he will--like I did, and your other friends have--still love you.
Stop your bitching, dear. You grew up lovely.
Love always, your M
*
M,
Ha. You nailed it. I haven't posted for a long time because of my own embarassment over the whine and cheese droplets.
Betty Bender was appropriate, you asshole. Mem called the other day and said things are getting bad. Dad's in HK. So I just extended my stay at home..We'll see how it all goes.
Yeah. So maybe I could just say it. But why even bother? My life and that life (Read: previous life) are all just what made me me. I just worry he'll be shocked. Ruined. Worried about what I could do...feel sorry for me? Be obligated if I tell secrets?
But not so worried. I was worried sick when my brother called...and had no one to tell that I was worried sick. I can tell C but she can't hear it all over again, because she has seen it and just chooses to ignore it, and say, 'Well thats life'. Which I do most of the time, except when I feel like its a bit too obviously affecting things in my life.
Oh pooey. I can whine all I want on my little world here.
I think everything is better at home--she just had one episode. No driving. Or pizza. Thanks for recalling that.. they are after all, somewhat endearing.
I love you terribly and miss you,
Mariana
*
Dear Mariana,
Oh darling. Shut the fuck up. Your parents are dazzling and hilarious.
And you grow up, right? You may always be able to fly home and see that they are not allowing your brother the car, credit cards, and guns, etc. but you cannot police them for the rest of your life. You father's work has always been a drain on everyone--your brother calls you because he trusts you, and knows you will come running. But---you have to hear this from someone: You will not always have to go running.
He will have to grow up, just as you did. You can't protect him.
Go home if it makes you feel better. Stay and mop up their messes. Give your brother rules and guidelines.
Write to me more often. I can't wait to see you this fall.
Love you,
M
*
Dear M,
You know you can be bossy. I'll go home and just check on things--no harm there.
Thanks for the friendship.
Mariana
*
Dearest Texan,
I have to write that because yesterday I saw a tshirt that read, "And on the 8th day God created Texas."
You really are full of yourselves. Don't thank me for friendship, make me famous and post my emails to your little bloggy. I've posted yours on my website, only to find that your writing is horrific and boring. If only you were a little slut, then we'd all actually enjoy reading of your adventures.
Love, M
Today I was thinking that I often disregard our correspondence, only to find I have much to say and no where to write it upon.
Your American friend President Cowboy should call me. I have quite the policy experience and have decided that I, as a supremely intelligent Belgian, could run your country better then he has done thus far.
I will have to make this short. I am thinking that there is something wrong in your family life, because that is when you become saddened and write disgustingly self-deprecating and whiney self-absorbing crap.
Having said this, I believe this is one of two things, or perhaps both of two things: You have decided to fixate on your status as only sane person in that lot of yours or you have convinced yourself that if anyone knew your family secrets (secrets? you fucking put them on the internet...) they would instantly not be in love with you....Hence, the grossly inadequate Betty Bender quote.
You fool. I will not even give you any leeway on this one. I think you have enough rope, so strangle yourself. My advice? Shut up- throw it in in conversation--
Like he will say, 'Darling lover girl, what would you like for dinner?'
and you can simply answer with this:
'Pumpkin. I think you should know my parents are highly entertaining but constantly battling one addiction or another. They once let the twelve year old drive for gods sake! (At this point laugh and throw your hands in the air) So anyway, I had a little too much fun in high school because they were to valium-ed up to note my misbehavior. I still have to have constant watch over them, if you love me you'll just have to witness and deal. Oh, yes-- depression runs in the family also--but not to worry, I have overcome a terribly traumatic episode with ease and now whenever the lithium is needed for one person or another, I am a pretty keen nut house nurse.'
And he will most undoubtedly continue ogling you and thinking that he is the luckiest person on earth.
Cross that fucking bridge when you get there. If he doesn't ask, you're not 'keeping' something from him: You're simply deciding that if he sticks around long enough to witness your mother and father throwing shoes and then kitchen utensils and alcohol at a pizza delivery man, he will--like I did, and your other friends have--still love you.
Stop your bitching, dear. You grew up lovely.
Love always, your M
*
M,
Ha. You nailed it. I haven't posted for a long time because of my own embarassment over the whine and cheese droplets.
Betty Bender was appropriate, you asshole. Mem called the other day and said things are getting bad. Dad's in HK. So I just extended my stay at home..We'll see how it all goes.
Yeah. So maybe I could just say it. But why even bother? My life and that life (Read: previous life) are all just what made me me. I just worry he'll be shocked. Ruined. Worried about what I could do...feel sorry for me? Be obligated if I tell secrets?
But not so worried. I was worried sick when my brother called...and had no one to tell that I was worried sick. I can tell C but she can't hear it all over again, because she has seen it and just chooses to ignore it, and say, 'Well thats life'. Which I do most of the time, except when I feel like its a bit too obviously affecting things in my life.
Oh pooey. I can whine all I want on my little world here.
I think everything is better at home--she just had one episode. No driving. Or pizza. Thanks for recalling that.. they are after all, somewhat endearing.
I love you terribly and miss you,
Mariana
*
Dear Mariana,
Oh darling. Shut the fuck up. Your parents are dazzling and hilarious.
And you grow up, right? You may always be able to fly home and see that they are not allowing your brother the car, credit cards, and guns, etc. but you cannot police them for the rest of your life. You father's work has always been a drain on everyone--your brother calls you because he trusts you, and knows you will come running. But---you have to hear this from someone: You will not always have to go running.
He will have to grow up, just as you did. You can't protect him.
Go home if it makes you feel better. Stay and mop up their messes. Give your brother rules and guidelines.
Write to me more often. I can't wait to see you this fall.
Love you,
M
*
Dear M,
You know you can be bossy. I'll go home and just check on things--no harm there.
Thanks for the friendship.
Mariana
*
Dearest Texan,
I have to write that because yesterday I saw a tshirt that read, "And on the 8th day God created Texas."
You really are full of yourselves. Don't thank me for friendship, make me famous and post my emails to your little bloggy. I've posted yours on my website, only to find that your writing is horrific and boring. If only you were a little slut, then we'd all actually enjoy reading of your adventures.
Love, M