My hair’s usually extremely dried out. However, the tides are turning, and I approve of this. I’ve been sticking with Garnier Fructis conditioners, as well as this olive oil deep conditioner, and I think that along with not being in a place that’s basically 286% humidity constantly is quite helpful.

Keri –

Well. You and I have a friendship that is now legally able to drink, yeah? Things could have gone quite differently for us. We could’ve remained tight throughout high school and college, but where would we be now? Honestly, I’m somewhat glad that things faded the way that they did; I seem to have bad luck with friendships burning bright and then fizzling quickly. Instead, this is more like a low, steady burn.

I can’t remember how our friendship started, but who really remembers much about kindergarten anyway? Some of my fondest memories, though, are middle school slumber parties and general music class in high school with Jamie/Danielle. I miss being close to you; I am sad that we didn’t think much of hanging out until just before my leaving. And I do wish I’d been a better friend to you. I’m hoping that, despite my leaving, we can keep being friends, and maybe regain some of our former glory. And maybe I’ll take back my denture biting threat.

Hi there. I’m your granddaughter. You never knew me because you died several years before my birth, but from my understanding, you and my mother were very close. She told me some things about you, about how fun and carefree you were, and I have to admit I’m envious that I don’t have the same kind of personality. I’m far too shy to be anything like that. She also mentioned that, had you been alive, I would be twice as spoiled as I already am now. Yet another reason I wish we could’ve met.

I’m not close to my paternal grandmother. I never had the kind of grandmother that a lot of people have, with the cookie baking and extra spoiling and whatnot. If we’d met, I think we would’ve been good friends. Your absence from my mom’s life was hard for her, and I could tell she missed you on a daily basis. We watched some transferred home movies one day and she cried; I’d not really seen her cry before and it was quite strange.

My grandfather mentioned the other day that I look a lot like you. Personally, I don’t see the resemblance, but I’ll take it as quite the compliment; from your pictures, you were an overwhelmingly beautiful woman. I hope that, wherever you are, you’re happy, and you and my mother are together doing fun mom-daughter things. I think she could use that.

I debated long and hard about making your letter for day one. However, once I read through the list I decided not to kill two birds with one stone, and thus your spot is firmly secured on day 8. I realize that you have a terrible time with expressing how you feel about people, and that’s totally understandable. I’m the same, as you know, but I’ve been working on it, as you also know. So here goes.

We met in an rpg that turned out to be filled with crazy people. I’m thinking we should tell people a cooler story. Like, maybe we met in the middle of a hurricane. Better yet, we were both spies for opposing sides of the war. When people ask which war, we can simply look astonished that they would be so disrespectful as to question us, then rant about young people these days. Perfect, no?

Admittedly, I was unsure about you at first. You were quiet, but when you spoke, you were weird. However, as time progressed, and the crazies surfaced, it was clear that you and I had to stick together like Titanic survivors floating on a door. And we continued to stick together through the years. I’ve never been more appreciative of a friend coming to my defense than I was with you.

It seems we’ve floated our way through a great amount of crazy water, and only a couple of times did we manage to nearly drown. While we aren’t quite zombie fetish, purple prose crazy, we do have our own problems, for one reason or another. Those problems have a tendency to clash, and this has caused us to have a few hiccups. You hold things in until you explode; I suck at explaining myself and get frustrated easily which makes situations worse. Things are said that shouldn’t be said, and feelings get hurt along the way. I think, at this point, we are above months-long arguments; I have to admit, when we manage to resolve tiny spats now with some nice words and explanations of our actions, I kind of want to give us gold stars for using our words.

You’re a talented person. I don’t think enough people tell you that. You’re lovely, and beautiful, and you should constantly feel like a million bucks. I know that you get down sometimes. I understand why. But you always should remember how fantastic you truly are. Own it. Live it. Love it.

I’m excited to try and make names for ourselves in L.A., and I can only hope that you’re half as enthusiastic about this friendship as I am. I know you’re going to be big. And I’ll be there to mooch off of you and live in your shadow.

I don’t get attached. In the past, boys came and went, and I barely batted an eye. However, for some reason, with you, I can’t quite let go. It’s baffling because we were never really a couple. Despite that, it felt intense, and I was happy. I would look forward to you calling just to ramble about anything and everything for hours and hours until one of us fell asleep. I never look forward to calls, so congratulations on that.

You and I could have been great. It’s hard for me to find people with my exact brand of humor and weirdness, and yet poof, there you were. So imagine my disappointment when the cracks in the veneer began. I am, admittedly, kind of a jerk sometimes. I said hurtful things. But in a lot of cases, I said them in retaliation for comments from you. I don’t like being mocked; I don’t appreciate things that I admit about myself to be turned around and put into an attack on me.

My concern lied mainly in your well-being. I understand that some things may not be pleasant to think about, but if I’m willing to fix myself to make a real go at a relationship, I would love the same kind of courtesy extended. Admit your shortcomings; I wouldn’t think any less of you. Get some help for anxiety and depression, don’t just self-medicate with alcohol. Clearly, the booze is doing you no good. It’s driven quite the rift between us, and it breaks my heart. I want to help you. You won’t let me.

I started to miss you again and I have to remind myself that I can’t do this; I can’t be the ever-forgiving partner that glosses over whatever issues there might be. I can’t just settle because I know I deserve to be treated better. And it’s disheartening because I know you’re capable of being better. I just wish I knew how to let you go.

Hello. You don’t know me and I don’t know you.. Based upon my past experiences with strangers, however, I know this will go one of two ways; either you will decide that I have a kind face and you’ll spill all kinds of personal information upon me, or you will decide that I am stuck up and snobby and you’ll give me the side-eye. Either way it goes, I’ll be uncomfortable, but it’s not necessarily your fault, stranger. I should explain, however, that I’m not stuck up.

Okay, I’m a little stuck up. But I try not to be upon first meeting. If I seem aloof or disinterested, it isn’t because I feel like I should be anywhere else but around you. I just really don’t know what to do around people. People make me nervous; I would rather watch them quietly from afar than interact. So if you catch me staring, I apologize; I’m just observing your mannerisms. And if I ever become a published author and you recognize some of your quirks within a character, please don’t sue me. Feel flattered.

Thank you, stranger, for the story fodder.

Night dreams –

Hi, how are you? I’ll tell you how you are: pretty damned creepy. I would like it if you could lay off the nightmares, please. I remember once upon a time, the bad dreams only happened once a month or so. Now, it seems that when I dream, if I dream, it’s not pleasant. Are you trying to tell me something, dreams? Is this an omen? I really hope not because I’d be quite upset.

Remember that time that I had a pool party and Dicky Barrett from the Mighty Mighty Bosstones came? And he was my secret boyfriend but rumor had it he was dating someone else and we got into a fight at the pool and I pushed him in? No? Probably not; that was way back in middle school. Now, all I get are cryptic dreams involving boxes and long-dead celebrities. What’s up with that? Let’s go back to nonsensical fluff, please. My head is not Twin Peaks.

Also – good going, dreams, making me afraid of my closet for twenty years.

Aspirational dreams –

I’m trying to fulfill you, I really am. Step one is complete; I’m out of Memphis. That only took 8 years, huh? I realize that Connecticut is not L.A., but that’s where step 3 lies. Step 2, save money. Step 3, move to L.A. Kat and I have been hard at work on scripts. I’m going to make it a point to finish a feature-length script before heading out there.  Let’s set our sights on making this happen before we’re 30, alright? Alright. Game on.

I’m pretty sure it’s haunted. It’s abandoned, and there’s caution tape up. I’m not adventurous enough to go in and take pictures, so this will have to suffice. Trust me, it’s creepy. I’m going to assume that it’s the scene of a crime of passion and now the ghosts of the couple roam the grounds. I’m waiting for the day that I’m here alone and I hear screams and wails coming from that house.

Actually, you know what this is? This is totally that house from that one episode of Are You Afraid of the Dark? when the girl goes to stay with her aunt and her cousin’s bitchy friends dare her to go into the haunted house and she does and they lock her in and there’s a dead girl in the mirror that’s writing HELP ME all over the walls but it turns out she’s the nanny’s lost daughter and then the nanny I guess just dies of…happiness…and joins her daughter in the mirror.

Yep. This is that house.

David –

Nice to meet you. I’ll be your older sister for the duration of my life. Fasten your seatbelt.

From our email correspondence, it’s nice to know that we have some things in common. I am rather alarmed that you tower over me, as I’m the tallest person among my usual crowd; I’m not used to being the short one. It amuses me that, like me, you would rather play video games than basketball. Clearly the artsy gene has passed on to you, and that’s also interesting. You enjoy anime, as do I. But one thing I don’t understand.

How can you not like horror movies? I think I might go back to being an only child.

I would like it if we could be close; however, there is an obstacle to that. That obstacle happens to be typing this letter right now. You see, new old brother, I happen to have a lot of issues. It isn’t your fault; I know you try and engage me via text, and I seem cold and unresponsive. It isn’t because I hate you or because I don’t want to know you. I just don’t know HOW to know you.

This is the point in which I apologize for being a bundle of neuroses. While some kids who discover a secret older sister get lucky and have astronauts or movie stars (I assume. I don’t actually know the statistics for this kind of scenario.), you’ve the pleasure of having a sister who should, by several accounts, be on a lot of medication. I have social anxiety, depression, possibly OCD, possibly some kind of attention disorder, and more than likely Asperger’s. In short, I will ignore you to focus on a beetle crawling across the floor, then spend six hours on the internet researching said beetle. At this point in time, I’ll despair that I can’t find my particular floor-beetle and become angry with the internet—yes, the entire internet—and look for puppies instead. Two puppy-filled hours later, I’ll have a panic attack because I forgot to actually do my work, then create a series of horrific events tied to becoming homeless, at which point I’ll be too sad and anxious to do work and will find something else to study.

I hope you had a good childhood. I hope someday you’ll tell me about it. I hope that we can be a part of each other’s lives, as well as I can manage. I’m trying, little brother, and I hope that my efforts pay off. I hope you do well in college and become a successful graphic artist.

Mainly, I hope for that last thing so I can borrow some money.

My main concern was the cats. They’ve never traveled. Demmy hates carriers. Cricket hates everything. They’d never even seen a plane, let alone flown in one. But they did well. Admittedly, during the flight, I was concerned that they wee down below in cargo, freaking out, and I would get off the plane and be informed that their hearts exploded mid-flight. When I worry, I worry large. That didn’t happen, obviously, and they’re adjusting.

Actually, they’re adjusting better than I am. These are apartment city cats; they don’t know nature. I tried getting them to go on walks before and was promptly corrected by them and did not try again. However, it’s really nice here. The front door usually stays open with the screen up, and I caught them watching outside curiously.

So I thought, “Hey! Maybe they’d like to go outside! Nothing about this can possibly go wrong!” First up was Cricket, mainly because he came to me first. I fixed the leash to his harness and out we went onto the patio thing. As soon as the door closed, he tried to go back inside. Then he tried to hide behind some junk. Apparently, wind is terrifying. After a few minutes of adjusting, he got brave enough to walk closer to the stairs, and I managed to snap one of my new favorite pictures of him.

After turning into a pointer for a few minutes, he decided he had had enough of nature, and back inside we went. Demmy didn’t get her chance to harass nature until several days later; she hates the leash and therefore ran from me whenever I tried. Once I managed to hogtie her, we headed out the door.

I expected her to howl a lot; whenever I took her out of the apartment in Memphis, she would let out the most horrible yowl and people thought I was secretly pinching her or bending back her tail. She was completely silent. She tried to hide for about .4 seconds, but then she tried to run. I was not comfortable letting her go down the steps, hard as she tried. I don’t want to go too far with either of them before getting some kitty meds for ticks, fleas, and parasites. That just means I need to get them ASAP because man, she enjoyed nature.

Of course, if I do start walking her, I’m going to be concerned about all kinds of things – dogs, deer, parasites, bears, alien abduction. But I figure, if she enjoys it, I should at least let her go out a few times a week. I’ll have to put my paranoia aside and let her roam. Maybe she’ll lose a little weight in the process.