Dear Friend [For Steve]

[theycalledmeacurse]

September 1st

Dear Friend,

That's how you're supposed to start these things, isn't it? I hope so. I've never done this sort of thing before, so I'm not-- Well, it doesn't really matter, does it?

My name is Marie, and I moved to the city a few years ago after spending most of my life in Mississippi. If you could hear my voice, you'd be able to tell in a second that I'm a southern girl. How long have you lived in our fine city, dear friend? I may be a newer arrival than most, but I love it here. This is home now, and I wouldn't change it for the world.

What made you decide to start this pen and paper adventure, friend? I wanted something to take me out of the rush of my daily life, something that involved connecting with another person in a way that's been almost forgotten. And there's just something... almost soothing, about putting pen to paper, don't you think?

I hope to hear from you soon, dear new friend.

Fondly,
Marie

Comments

[on_ur_left]

9.03

Hello, Marie. I'm Steve.

I'm not really sure how you're supposed to start something like this, truthfully. I vaguely remember being taught how to write them, but not well enough to feel confident duplicating it. I'll answer your questions, but probably not in the correct order, and tell you a little more about myself as well.

I've lived in New York almost all my life, barring some time spent overseas. I was born and raised in Brooklyn, before it became hipster central. I guess if you could hear my voice, I'd sound like a native New Yorker. I'm glad you're enjoying it; I've met several people who feel lost and lonely, in such a large, bustling city, always moving at light speed.

I think this answers another of your questions as well. I wanted a pen-pal, someone I could speak with, who wouldn't judge me. Or, if they did judge me, at least I probably wouldn't be able to notice. The people I know now are either acquaintances... or already know my entire life story, and are too close to be able to just listen.

That sounded bad, didn't it? I don't mean I wanted to try this just to unload all my burdens and constantly complain. I just wanted to meet someone new, who maybe wouldn't mind hearing about my boring every day life. It sounds like your life is more fast-paced and exciting than mine, anyway! Right now I teach art intro at a community college. I enjoy it, but most 'artists' would probably find it very dull. Which is probably why they hired me. (My dry wit doesn't translate very well into written format, sorry. It's okay, most people can't tell when I'm joking anyway.)

I've heard that writing in a journal is supposed to be good for getting your thoughts in order, and helping to calm you down. I've tried, but I'm not very good at keeping at it. I kind of thought this way, I'd be writing, and still have some sort of...connection with someone, I guess. Does that seem strange? (It's okay if it does, I've been told I'm an odd duck plenty of times.)

Thank you for writing to me, and I do hope to hear from you again.

Best wishes,
Steve

[theycalledmeacurse]

September 6th

Dear Steve,

It's not odd at all to prefer writing to a real person over writing in a journal. And I completely understand what you mean by having someone to talk to who doesn't judge you in the same way family and friends might. There's something to be said for anonymity, and we're practically anonymous to each other, just writing to PO boxes like this.

So do feel free to complain and talk about your days, all the good and the bad parts. And I'll do the same. We'll be each others confidant.

An art teacher. Wow. I've always loved art, though I've never been much good at it. My focus in school was on French, the language, literature, and history. Not that I'm using that much now - I work as an event coordinator at a hotel. (It's definitely fast-paced, but not usually all that exciting.) Occasionally, we'll have someone come in from France or Quebec and I'll get to break out my French, but it doesn't happen all that often. I still read in French all the time, though. I'm on probably my fiftieth time reading 'The Three Musketeers'.

I imagine Brooklyn to have been a nice place before it was overrun by the hipsters. What was your childhood like there?

I was born and raised in Mississippi, as I said, in a county that used to be something before modernity finally caught up and the society scene became less important than things like business and commerce. Not that people like my parents would ever agree with a sentiment like that -- my days were filled with music and dance lessons, and lectures on manners and how to be a proper southern woman. I wanted more than that kind of life, though, so I left home and haven't looked back.

It feels like the weather is starting to try to change. I love seeing the leaves turn in the fall, but I'll be sad to see the summer go.

Fondly yours,
Marie

P.S. I find your wit amusing, and look forward to experiencing more of it. Do write back soon.

[on_ur_left]

9/09

Dear Marie,

First of all, I want to apologize: you asked me to write back soon, and what do I do, but not get back to you, despite receiving your letter. Circumstances came up, life got a little crazy for a few days.

Alright, I don't feel right just giving you a vague excuse, so full (but still vague) disclosure: My best friend lives with me, because he sometimes... has episodes, flashbacks. Which is what happened a few days ago, so I had to drop everything to help him. Even though he tells me I don't have to, that I shouldn't... I really do. If your best friend, who's basically your brother, needs help, what else are you supposed to do? I shouldn't say I "had to" - I wanted to. I needed to help, for him and for myself. But it's always exhausting, so even though he was alright after a while, it took me a couple days to recuperate. Still not at 100%, but I wanted to write to you.

I wanted to be a comic book artist when I was little. I was sick a lot, so a lot of my time was spent reading and drawing. I started college to learn more about art, but... life happened, and I didn't get to finish. When I came back...I didn't think it was a good idea to try putting the thoughts and images in my head down on paper for public consumption. But I enjoy teaching art, seeing other people be passionate about what they're creating.

I have an acquaintance from France, and another who took French in college - they tried to teach us French, but being soldiers, I'm not sure what I learned is really something I want to ever repeat, haha!

I think being an event coordinator would be very exciting! Maybe not to you, as you deal with it all the time, but from an outsider's perspective, I'm sure you have some really great stories to tell, about crazy things that have happened. It was probably really nerve-wracking at the time, but when you look back you can laugh at the insanity of it all. I like to try and do that, anyway; look back at situations that were awful at the time, and try to find the humor in it, somewhere.

When I was growing up, Brooklyn was not a nice place. Or, maybe I should say, the people were nice, but it certainly wasn't the ritzy place it is now. (Thank God our apartment is rent controlled, is all I can say.)

So your parents tried to make you a proper Southern Belle? It sounds like that's not at all what you wanted, which is too bad. I mean, too bad they tried to force something you didn't want. My mother taught me to be polite and respectful, but she didn't try to push me into sports or anything like that (even if I'd been healthy and strong enough at the time to really play a school sport). She bought me art supplies when she could, and books on any subject I wanted. I think it's great that now people are starting to really question gender stereotypes. I'm sure you can imagine some of the names I was called, when I was a stick-thin waif of a kid, who preferred reading and art over playing sports. (I would've played baseball in a heartbeat, I love it, but I just didn't have the stamina.)

Ah, I don't want you to think I'm complaining! I didn't have the best circumstances growing up because of my health, but I'm thankful for it. I would've turned out a very different person I think if I'd been healthy as a kid. I know what it's like to be the last person picked for a game - or not chosen at all, excluded just because of people's preconceived notions. So I really try and question my own thoughts, and not judge people on appearances. I try to help others however I can, because I remember how thankful I, and my mother, were when someone would help us, even if it was insignificant to them.

I like every season, now. The trees have stories to tell, whether they're blushing and dressed up in spring, in the prime of life and bearing fruit in summer, colorfully giving their last hurrah in autumn, even when they're bare and coated in frost in the winter, waiting for that first touch of warmth to wake them up again. I think it's all beautiful. Maybe that's just the artist in me, haha. I still don't enjoy the cold, even though I can endure it much better now, but I've always thought the stillness and sharp angles of winter are beautiful and ethereal. (I will miss being able to just step outside without taking 10 minutes to bundle up, however.)

Fondly yours,
Steve

P.S.-- Re-reading this, realized I took a trip down memory lane. Probably because I was already thinking about the past, due to helping my friend. Sorry if this seems very melancholy; the next one I will try to be cheerier.