Missives in July.

Dear Dance Machine casting folk,

You really should reconsider my application. I’m serious. I’m that girl – who does the fishing pole and bebops around a dance floor. There’s a reason they call me Twinkletoes. I even dreamed about stunning you all with my dance skills last night. I would apply for So You Think You Can Dance, but I’m afraid I’d have the novelty of being a hearing impaired dancer carrying me through, in addition to the fact that I haven’t properly danced regularly in about two years. But you should put me on your show, because people will loooooooooovvvvveeeeee me.

Just saying.
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Dear NYU:

Thank you for sucking my soul. It seems I will be devoting my attentions to you entirely for the next five months because of the tremendous course load. On one hand, you resolve some of my job difficulties. On the other hand you create new problems. Such as I have no money.

Is there a way to compromise on this one?
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Dear sister,

You know. Your argument of “Well, you had a car for three years before we started sharing a car” is not completely valid. Mainly because you didn’t have a driver’s license for those first three years. And I drove you around all the time! So it was almost like sharing a car. I had to drive you to work and school and camp and anywhere else you went, even if all I wanted to do was sleep. Your argument would not hold up in a court of law.
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Dear readers,

What kind of a part-time job can I get that won’t involve a lot of driving, will involve decent money, and will let me be a graduate student full-time with three research based independent studies? Methinks one that does not exist.
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Dear So You Think You Can Dance,

Thank you for giving me something to look forward to on Wednesday and Thursday nights. My life is so much better with you in it.
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Dear people born on June 13th,

According to the “Birth Date Book,” we are awesome. We have lots of energy and ambition and are unable to sit still or stay in one place for very long. In some ways, reading this was like reading a character study and a sum of what’s yet to come all at once. As I’ve been looking for answers as to what my future holds, this reassures me in a surprisingly unexpected way.
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Dear parents,

I appreciate your trying to resolve the aforementioned car issue with sister. But if you’re going to shell out cash to rent a car so I can get around when she goes back to school, you might as well shell out cash for me to get a sublet in the city. And I’m not so sure I want to move back into the city just yet. This requires a lot of thought and careful negotiation. Cause I don’t know if it’s better to save up money by living at home and working at home and making the two hour commute or if it’s better to get a part-time job in the city and live in a sublet that has no expiry.

Especially as I only have class two nights a week now and will be spending most of my time in the library.

This is another instance in which advice would be greatly helpful, dear readers!
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Dear life,

You’re funny. Sometimes, I think you build things up intentionally. When I finally admit to being depressed, it makes it easier for me to let loose and enjoy myself at my friend’s wedding. You make me feel light-hearted and able to laugh again, instead of picking fights and obsessing about everything. Is it because of the work I’ve been focused on in the last few days between wedding-madness? Or is it just because recognizing something as deep and serious as depression makes it easier to move beyond? I didn’t know what to say in therapy on Monday, and while that’s slightly reassuring, at the same time, there’s a reason I’m in therapy!

I’ve spent a lot of time wondering what’s going to happen next. Maybe it’s because I have a huge workload again, but these days, I’m content to let the world pass me by and reveal itself to me as it comes.

Contentedly yours,

distracted spunk