dear me

i've been tagged! and it's the loveliest tag, ever. i have to write an anonymous letters. and i sure do love letters ;)

it's supposed to be a dear you letter, but since i think i'm going to write a dear me letter.. call it creative license, but there are some things i need to assure myself of.

dear me,

god, you're wonderful. too much? okay. i'll stop. but you are. sometimes, anyways. not when you're PMSing, but that's another story.

i know it's hard being in university with so many people that are so much older than you, but you are there because you deserve to be there. you are just as smart, just as worthy. believe in yourself, please. i believe in you so much, i just need you to do the same.

and don't stress. you'll figure it all out. so what if you graduate next year? so what if you don't know what you're doing after that? okay, mom and dad definitely disagree, but honestly, where is the goddamn fire? there IS none. the fire is only in your boots. you will figure it out in due time. i know it doesn't feel that way, but i need you to believe that what is meant to be will be. trust me. everything will work out. i guarantee it. stop stressing. (seriously, dude, these spots on your face are REALLY starting to freak me out!)

take your writing seriously. it's the most important thing to you for a REASON. you're a student, a daugher, a sister, a friend, but you are first and foremost a writer. it is not what you do, it is who you are. never ever forget that.

no one will ever be all things to you. this is an unfair expectation. take what you can from whomever offers it. let it be enough.

and you will meet a boy who is funny and sweet and good to his mother. i don't know when or where, but i trust you will. and if you don't? well, that will be alright, too.

and keep on reading bell hooks. i think she just might change your life.

love,

me

a confession

i have a confession to make. it's a little embarrassing. but before i get to that there is something you should know.

tomorrow is the midnight premier of harry potter.

i have never been more excited for anything in my life.

i've been reading harry potter since i was a child. i want you to try to understand what it means to me. i was eleven at the same time that harry, hermione, and ron were eleven. there is something so powerful about aging with characters. you see yourself in them.

every year i have had a book or movie release to look forward to. what harry potter means to me, what it means to so many people is almost unnameable. but the books were magical, and in being so, they allowed readers to recover some of the magic that has been lost in our own lives.

i'm getting sentimental. *smacks forehead* trust me, enough tears have been shed over the end. i even watched the london movie release and cried myself silly. but that's besides the point.

this is my confession.

for my summer class i am required to volunteer a minimum of 20 hours at a high school. i committed to volunteering four fridays in july which would have put me at a total of 32 hours. i am a bit of an overachiever. okay, fine i'm not, but i really do like working with kids.

a few days ago i realized that the midnight premier was thursday night. as in i would start the movie at 12, get done around 2:30, get back and be in my bed by 3:30.

and friday is the day after thursday, generally speaking. so i would have to be up at 6. and i would have to drive an hour and a half to get to my volunteer site. i couldn't imagine driving an hour and a half on only about 2 and a half hours of sleep. i'm too young to die!

so i decided that i would miss the premier. and considering how big of a harry potter fan i am, not to mention the fact that my ticket was PREPAID, that is saying a lot.

and i was heartbroken. so i decided that maybe i didn't have to volunteer on that specific friday. i would have my minimum number of hours done anyways, right? so i decided that i would tell my teacher that i had an emergency come up, and i wouldn't be able to make it on friday. she would be understanding, of course. i felt bad.

today in class i told her i had a family emergency come up. she looked at me expectantly. what came next was not planned or intended, i swear. i said: "my sister is having an emergency c-section."

my sisters are 15, 9, and 4 months, respectively.

i immediately wished the ground would open up and swallow me. where the HELL had that come from? i wasn't a good liar, i was sure she'd see right through me.

"congratulations!" she squealed. "is it her first child?"

was it? "yes," i hedged, creating this fake sister.

"is it a boy or a girl?"

"a girl," i blurted out.

FRAUD, FRAUD, FRAUD, the voice inside my head was screaming. i had invented a fake pregnant older sister. but on top of that i had invented a fake baby girl that is going to be born this friday.

i feel terrible.

but it was worth it. so, so, so worth it.

i'll blog about how incredible the movie was, and how i cried self-consciously in the dark theater, later.

these things

i'm reading letters to a young poet by rainer marie rilke.

it's changing my life. it's a bit off putting the way this old german man understands. he writes about being lonely and being afraid and of the importance of going into oneself.

he is asking the tough questions. i am afraid of the answers. i don't know when i got this way- so afraid and hesitant, but it is good to know that i am not the only one.

the end

"All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves. We must die to one life before we can enter another."

Anatole France

i'm eating ice cream and chocolate cake and trying to write something. i haven't written anything in a while, and it's getting uncomfortable. it's kind of like constipation. too much? maybe?

i've started everything is illuminated by jonathan safran foer. it's good so far.

i'm done with school. i'm officially a senior in college.

in two days i'll be done with work. (i work in a second/third grade classroom). i'm afraid the kids will forget me. for the life of me i don't want them to.

i'm a little sad that everything's coming to an end. i was so excited for the end, so excited to be done, but i'm so sad. i don't know what to do with the end now that it's here.

that's why that anatole france quote means so much to me- because i feel that way. it's grief, that achy sadness that you can't shake off. i'm grieving because i will never again be the girl that i am this year, i am grieving for the girl i was the year before that, and the year before that.

this sadness won't last. i know in a few days it'll be gone and it'll be officially summer, and i will drink lemonade and get a suntan. but it will come again. it always does.

relativity

i feel too much. every single thing. i can't turn it off. i'm overwhelmed by how much i feel sometimes. happiness, sadness, loneliness, anger, disappointment. it is almost painful to be so hypersensitive to the world and the people in it. it's a blessing and a beast. god, i beg when my emotions bring me to my knees. i am constantly crumbling. it is a difficult way to live.

what is the difference between a blessing and a curse i wonder. is it all relative?

letters

i haven't written any letters in a while. i'm a big fan of letters in case you haven't noticed. especially letters to people i don't have any (legal) way of reaching.

dear adam levine,

i think i'm in love. i graduate at the end of next year, and then i am all yours. i'd leave school right now, but just in case things don't work out, i need something to fall back on. it's the feminist in me, what can i tell you?

i know you have a girlfriend... a victoria's secret model? seriously? so unoriginal, adam, i'm a little disgusted. but i see the allure. just look at those long, spindly legs... on second thought, don't. so if you can wait just a little longer? i'll never leave your bed. (what? it's a song, okay, don't look at me like that).

yours,

jamila

dear james franco,

one of my biggest aspirations in life is to marry a good looking writer. you're certainly good looking, and your certainly a writer, but are you a good writer? and with those smoldering eyes of yours, does it even matter? hm. i recently read your book of short stories palo alto, and i immediately took a shower afterwards. just kidding. no, actually i'm not really kidding. but thank you for making me realize that i must amend my standards: for a guy to be marriage worthy he must not only be good looking but be a good writer, too. so thank you for making me realize that i deserve better.

forever yours,

jamila

now letters to people i actually know:

dear dawsa,

i love you and i miss you so much. it's incredibly lonely without you here. i miss you at the most random times. sometimes at night before i fall asleep i'll look at the clock and calculate what time it is for you, and i'll get sad. i wish you weren't so far away. my sister girl.

dear mama,

everyday is mother's day. i hope you feel that way. you're beautiful, inside and out, and i'm so blessed and proud to be your daughter. it's so nice having you home these past few weeks. i love seeing your face when i come home from school. it's my favorite face in the world, did you know that?

dear grandma,

i think, and this might seem a little strange, that you know me better than anyone else, and in a lot of ways i know you better than anyone else. better than your dead husband, or your own children. i can't wait to come see you. i dream of you sometimes. it makes waking up with you so far away that much harder. every poem i've ever written is about you in some way.