The future stands still, dear Mr. Kappus, but we move in infinite space. - Ranier Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Letter 18

Dear Josephine,

I’ve been fantasizing about my future: owning and furnishing my apartment, drinking red wine while relaxing on my patio, and running outside with my dog. I have spent the past twenty minutes trying to decide whether I would like my future companion to be a German Shorthaired Pointer or a Hungarian Viszla. Clearly if this is the biggest decision I’m contemplating, my life is pretty good right now.

I’m going to Lollapolooza this summer and visiting Jess. I am unbelievably excited. Tonight I am buying my ticket – I’ve already placed the dates on my Outlook calendar, with green text boxes and reminders to help me deal with the wait. This summer is not going to be easy to hold as all of my weekends are sandwiched between flights to Columbus, travels to the beach, or days spent relaxing in PA.

I’m dreading the return of Fall, when my moods are dictated by the weather, when I have to make grander decisions and stop skimming streets due to comfort. For now I am focusing on the d.c. humidity and my current happiness. There isn’t any uncertainty here, only a newfound appreciation for waiting and an enjoyment of my surroundings. My goals are small: pay off/cancel credit card, meet savings goal by August, appreciate my 23rd summer.

And for now, that is enough.



Sunday, June 8, 2008

Letter 17

Dear Josephine,

There are eternities between spaces. That is my excuse for not writing you sooner; I became lost and found again, an object brought in to discuss during show and tell, although there was all show and no tell.

I am seriously considering a career in educational assessment/testing, and find this both humorous and depressing (in that my life is being carved out at such a young age). I dream of Grecian shores and western mountains. These will be part of the carving, at some point. I think life means learning patience.

How many vague statements can I write to you; will you interpret them as thinly veiled bull-shit or abstractions of truth?

I've finished On the Road and it struck me to be about understanding people's faults and recognizing their beauty and importance in one's life and appreciating everything - in the ramblings was America, in a form rarely seen yet seen everyday.

Take me on a road trip, Josephine. Let's wander down the southern coast and lose ourselves in Texas. We can pretend we've been abandoned by circumstances and intended mistakes, frequent dinners and converse with strangers. I'm packing an atlas and a handful of dresses, I suggest you bring water bottles and suntan lotion. Summer is here, and her heat makes fools of us all.