Archive | January, 2012

Day 31

31 Jan

Well Dad,

I’m too tired for this right now. I don’t have the emotional energy or motivation to even care about you. Everything seems like a lot, and you are, frankly, still a nothing in my life.

Today, I just don’t care to care.


Day 30

30 Jan

Dear Dad,

I’m sort of running dry on topics tonight.  I’ll tell you something that might surprise you (or not):  I really like Sci-fi stuff.  I grew up watching Star Trek: TNG and always pretended to be LeVar Burton’s character by putting a headband over my eyes.

I sometimes think that I don’t like Sci-fi, but I totally do.  I like Alien/s; I like Terminator; I like anything having to do with time travel and/or the space time continuum.

I just do!


Day 29

29 Jan

Dear Dad,

My house is still a wreck.  Laundry is piled in its various stages all over the house.  The floors are sticky and dusty at the same time.  And the bathroom is a disaster.

Right now, I’d burn it down and start over; with fewer things, in a smaller space, better organized.  

I’m constantly wishing I was better than who I am right now.  And hoping that I’ll reach some magical place where I’ll be the best possible me.  But I probably never will.  I’ll always want something from myself that I can’t be or do; and Lord knows that I’ll never be good enough.

I want to learn to embrace not being enough while still wanting more.  But that is really hard and something I’m not very sure how to do.  I’m starting to think, though, that doing it might be the key to living…


Until tomorrow,


Day 28

28 Jan

Dear Dad,

Today, I went to Whole Foods. I’ve only been one other time.  I started to panic as soon as I started looking up the directions to get there.  It was like a whole new world to me.

I don’t know what it is about doing new things that I hate so much, but I really do not care for it.  Right now in my life, at the tender age of 24, I’ve gotten my anxiety pretty well under control (after 1-2 years of counseling and prayers of release).  But sometimes it really just rears up.

Like what is scary about going to a grocery store?  That sells things that I like?  Yeah, it’s a bit of a drive from this side of town, but it’s not like I’ve never driven to 86th Street before.  Something about not knowing exactly where everything was, or the prices, or what to expect when I got there just made me feel like I couldn’t do it.  I almost didn’t go.

There are so many things I don’t do out of fear still:  be creative– poetry, music, drawing; try to learn new skills; grad school.  I’m still scared I’m not good enough, that people will laugh at me if I try.

I think I’ve been hurt a lot, but I also think I have to keep pushing myself to do hard things.  Even if I fail, at least I’ll have tried.  Ah, how the trite and cliche rings so true…   But really, I’m scared to meet you.  I don’t know if I want to do it.  I’m still trying to figure it out.  You are slightly more intimidating than a new grocery store.

See ya,


Day 27

27 Jan

Dear Dad,

I’m feeling a lot better but still not quite at full force.  It was really hard being sick and having the kids to take care of; they really don’t get it when mommy is not feeling well.  And, unfortunately, if you try to stick them in bed all day, they get pretty pissed about that kinda thing too.

But I made it.  Probably by the grace of God.  I prayed a lot when I was sick.  For healing.  For strength.  To say that I felt like Job (which of course is always an exaggeration… but I really connect to Job’s story in the Bible) and hated God for letting me get sick.  I also kept thinking of times when I would get sick, and not even as sick I was this past week, and all I had to worry about was school and work.  Ah, those were the days.  Those were still stressful times.  And now these are also stressful times.  Go figure.

Luckily, Lazarus is really cute, and Zoe’s quite helpful.  She would often give me things that I “needed” with a “Oh, here you go, Sweetheart.”  That sweetness probably melted the infection right out of me.

But, right now, everything is chaos and feels like I’ve lost the past 2 weeks to illness (first L’s and then my own).  And we’re hoping that no one else gets sick.  Because if Joe gets sick, well, that becomes a financial issue.  Which always causes stress.

Oh, my kidney is hurting I am so stressed out just thinking of Joe getting sick.  Or maybe it’s the massive amounts of Tylenol and cough syrup I’ve taken in the last 4 days?  I’ll never know for sure…


Maybe something that makes sense awaits you tomorrow?  (But I wouldn’t hold my breath.)


Day 26? 27?

26 Jan

Well here I am again.

A guy I work with who is “gifted” with the stock market just bought a Lamborghini. Like, the car. I asked him to pay off our student loans and he didn’t really say anything direct.

Its worth a shot.

Adella is still sick, and maybe I’m sick again too. Its late, I was at work all day, I’m hungry, and frankly not too thrilled to be on here. But you get a letter every day, my friend, even when it’s not pretty. I don’t really know what to say, especially since I’m a guest writer, and especially given the hungry, hungry circumstances.

Let’s just call it a draw.



P.S. Lots of interesting pictures when you do a Google Images search on “not pretty,” including an otherwise charming portrait of Ernest Borgnine wearing a sailor’s hat. And celebrities in wind tunnels.

Guest Post 3: Son of Guest Post

25 Jan

Dear Adella’s Dad:

Yesterday I made a crack about you living in a mansion with 27 rooms humidified by your tears. Presumably if you were wealthy you wouldn’t need to humidify it with your tears because you could pay someone to do that (me! me!). But the idea of you being wealthy is really titillating to me for a few obvious and one not obvious reason.

1. If you were wealthy, it stands to reason that you would, upon hearing of a long lost child who is struggling to start a family during difficult financial times, might be moved to generously impart some (or all, I won’t limit you) of this wealth to said child, once you determined that it was not an email scam from the King of Nigeria.

2. While I try hard to embrace hard things in life and set my face to the icy northern wind, in my heart I am small and weak and do not like working and applying myself to things. Much of my work ethic is a contrived self used to compensate for the true weakness that underlies much of what I do. A subsidized life would be easy. I could definitely do subsidized.

3. Uncle Hernandez! A bottle of 1947 Chateau Latour? You shouldn’t have! I’ll put it in the decanter so it will be ready for the kobe beef carpaccio you brought last time that’s been dry aging in the walk-in cooler. Garcon, show Monsieur Hernandez to the Game Room. And Nandy, I say I have a collection of Persian calligraphy we must discuss after the ball.

4. For some reason, I imagine that you have this considerable wealth because you are a self-made man, a man who worked hard, sacrificed, saved and spent wisely, and through this character and virtue and Christ-like manhood you are now independently wealthy (and generous, for wealth of the purse which is earned by virtue is accompanied by a wealth of heart, as thinker and writer J. M. Manley put it). That is, since I know nothing about you, I automatically assume you are everything I ever wish I was as outlined above in #2.

And this is important to me because it might mean that Adella isn’t the only one who might gain a father-figure in her life, but maybe I would too. Sure, my house came complete with all the normal white middle-class regalia: two cars, a PlayStation (AAAANNNNDDDD a Sega Saturn!), regular meals, and notably, a dad. But I never had a Father, so to speak, and for a long time I have really longed for a man to come into my life and guide me and teach me how to be a man. Christians say God is our Father, and sometimes that means something. It helps me construct a worldview that allows me to interpret the events in my life, etc, but it doesn’t really help me learn how to work hard, suffer, and so on. I need people to help with that. I need a Father. And sometimes when I think about Adella finding you, I become greedy. And I mean gree-dy.

Sure Adella needs a dad. But I want one too.