The Friend Break-Up
So… remember when I had that short stint back in like, November, when I used these letters to you to call out other people who were making me angry? Well, those days are back. Don’t take any of it personally. I know you of all people, would NEVER hurt me. Right? RIGHT????
Listen Helen, if you think you ever want to stop being my friend – you have to tell me. And do it like a man. Really – balls out – man up. If you think you’re a changed woman because you’ve moved or got a better job or got married then say it. Don’t just say you’ve changed. There is no change without a catalyst – at least not a change so big that it would cause you to not want to be in my life anymore.
Long story short, if Taylor Hackford ever says, “It’s me or that blogger girl” and you want to choose him, fine. But don’t expect an anniversary present next year.
I have some prom photos to rip up. Check ya later Hellbee.
xo
Lisa
Stop. Step Back. Start Over.
Hey Girl Heeeeeeey,
You must be LOVING all these letters this week. I mean, I’m sure you’ve gotten a ton of birthday cards, but tell me they mean as much to me as my letters do. Tell me! You can’t, can you? I know. I know…
So I was going to talk to you today about that teacher from my past who I thought might have… well… passed. Thanks to the expert sleuthing skills one Mr. Cam Saino (name change alert!), it has been confirmed that she did not pass away, and it was just a woman with the exact same name and approximate age from the same region who departed us earlier this month. RIP Aunt Gay Gay.
Initially, I wanted to write to you about this teacher because it spurred something in me that I hadn’t felt in a while. A true loss of someone who, while not a big part of my life this moment, did much to shape who I am. However, the more I thought about it, I realized it may be in poor taste to eulogize a woman who is still with us. Ok fine Helen, you got me – it’s not the “more I thought about it” it’s the more I talk to people with a meatier moral fiber than myself. It’s the consensus of these friends that I use this new information as an impetus to respond to this former teacher’s Facebook message from months ago and not mention that I thought she was dead. Fair enough.
I will, however, take this opportunity to enjoy the feeling that came over me when I found out she was ok. The weight of 50 textbooks had been on my shoulders since I heard (what I thought was) the bad news and now that everything is in it’s rightful order again, I can move on with a better sense of appreciation for her and maybe life in general. So let’s travel back to that morning (henceforth called “The Bad News Morning”) where I have a conversation with a friend over breakfast about the ability to teach writing. I tell him that I believe that while the basic technique of writing can be taught to an extent, the creativity which inspires it, cannot. My friend is of the mindset that it’s all teachable – from the conception of the idea to the presentation through words. This is ridiculous to me. If you could be taught how to write – like actually write – like the kind of writing that swallows you whole when you read it – then the people who do it well would mean a lot less. The town in which I live would be filled with less depressed 20-somethings who have traveled too far from home to give up, and I wouldn’t cry when I finished a good book because I was worried there might not be another like it. He disagrees. Fine. His smile is charming enough. I’m disarmed. I walk home from the restaurant and call my parents and we have the conversation that has lead me to today’s letter. The conversation that ends with them telling me that my teacher had passed away. It hits my heart. Hard. Why? Because I know this teacher taught me to write. From idea seed to stylized grammar. She red-lined my short stories as if I were an actual writer and encouraged my poetry by staying after school to read with me. She told me that some day I’d be published. If it turns out to be true or not, her belief in me made me want to write more. Thinking about her like this is a wake up call and I want to run back to the table I had breakfast that morning at and start all over again. I want to agree with my friend and tell him he’s right, that you can be taught to write. And more importantly, you can be taught to write well.
So that’s that. I need to start writing more. New leaf. Starting over. Starting… tomorrow.
xoxo
Lisa
HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIRLFRIEND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
All of our favorite people! (and some bitch with a small head on the right)
Helly Belly! It’s your day! How special! I’m very happy to be able to share it with you, too. I mean, at least in thought (which, as we know from crappy present giving, is what counts). I wish I was actually able to attend the festivities, but I’ll be working all day today. Also, I didn’t really get the details of your invite. As a matter of fact, I didn’t really get your invite at all. Oh wells. Sucky mail system. Speaking of which…
HAPPY BIRTHDAY US POSTAL SERVICE!!!!!!!!
Remember when I got all freaked out that I was going to die because my co-worker was going to have a baby on my birthday but then you calmed me down by saying you have the same birthday as Mick Jagger and you’re still alive so it’s ok? Well, then -
HAPPY BIRTHDAY MICK JAGGER!!!!!!!!!!!!
But now I’m just realizing that Mick Jagger is older than you (duh, he is) so HE would have died when you were born. Anyway, everyone’s alive and we still get mail. Except Amy Winehouse. RIP.
So I will forego today’s possibly sad letter to be festive (and also because that issue has yet to be resolved…hrmph). Happy Birthday Girl. Hope it’s a great one.
Love always,
Lisa
All Flies, No Fruit
Dear Helen,
Oh man Helly Belly. Has it be a long time – nearly 6 months!! I feel badly, but I will not apologize. I rarely (if ever?) receive apologies from you for not writing back and this relationship should be nothing if not even.
I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately – especially with this exciting news about you taking Bette Midler’s role in the Phil Spector biopic (Bette may be an old family friend, but you and I have a bond that surpasses fake family, so I’m very happy for you … also that thing I said about Bette being an old family friend is a lie). Then yesterday I got some news that really hit me and I wanted to share it… except now I don’t know if the thing that upset me actually happened and it would be in poor taste to write you a long sad letter about it if it didn’t. Do you catch my drift? No? Ok, fine. If one of my favorite middle school teachers did actually pass away, then look for a long letter tomorrow on the positive effects of steadfast-encouragement and a wildly interesting debate (to maybe only 2 people) on whether you can or cannot teach someone how to write. If this teacher is alive and kicking (as her Facebook activity suggests) then tomorrow’s letter will be about doing some research before you call your best friend with heartbreaking news in the middle of a Sunday.
My friend Sam is telling me about how he ransacked his apartment yesterday looking for the source of a fruit fly invasion. He did not find any fruit. He did, however, find an excuse to clean under his refrigerator. Moral of the story – be thanksful for flies that get you to do what you should have done a long time ago. The news I received this morning – accurate or not - was a good slap in the ass to get to writing to you again – and to get back to writing in general.
Miss you and love you always,
Lisa
