Dear Jade--third letter, undated, but in order

Dear Jade,

I’ve decided that the theme of my letters will be my obsession with a certain gnome-collecting Argonaut Editor in Chief. Yes, my letters will always contain a mention of the one & only Heart-breaking Brian Passey. Today, I’ll mention that he’s dating a girl in one of my classes and although looks can’t kill I wish they could at least maim.

Truth be told, I’ve been over my crush on Brian for a while, but he’s one of the men in my life that if they aren’t going to love me, then they’re not allowed to love any other girl! See, most people wouldn’t understand what I’m talking about, but I’m sure that you, as a Scorpio, understand completely. (Besides, he’s one of the boys I allowed myself to cry over...& that just don’t happen in my world!)

Then there’s my continued obsession with Billy Boyd. Oh boy. Oh BOY. That man just makes me want to walk like a model! But we’ll move on.

THE WEEK THAT MAAIKE FORGOT...
No, It’s not a weird tale about a week that was stolen from my life, it is, instead, a story about a week where I kept forgetting everything!!

Things Forgotten and Left at School:
1. Brit Lit folder (I blame B.P. He’s in my class & he must have distracted me on some subconscious level.)
2. A bottle of Evian water resting peacefully in the Buchanan Engineering Laboratory (where I still refuse to buy things (i.e. M&M’s) from the vending machines.)
3. A mechanical pencil (Richard “the Chosen One” has it, I’m sure.)

Things Forgotten at Home That I Needed at School:
1. French Homework assignment (which I had to climb back up the hill to the Admin Building later to turn it in.)
2. My writing assignment for Creative Writing (which I ended up emailing to Kim Barnes...thank heavens for technology!)
3. My lunch (fortunately, I had money)

Things Randomly Forgotten That Aren’t Things to Carry Around:
1. There’s a pop machine on the 3rd floor of the Admin, so I didn’t need to go down to the 2nd floor.
2. French test on Thursday.
3. The title of the homework assignment in my Creative Writing book.
4. Jamie Freeman’s middle name.
5. M&M’s at the store.
6. My PIN for my ATM card. (Don’t worry, I remembered later.)
7. Christina’s phone number. (See above).

So, there you go. It’s been a week to live through let me tell you.

Oh, let me tell you this too:

I watched a film for my French film class called “Venus Beaute (Institut)” (The Venus Beauty Institute). The main character is 40 years old & was so jaded by love that she was unwilling to open herself up to love anymore. She wouldn’t let herself love anyone. A man saw her on the street & fell madly in love with her. He followed her around, found where she worked & started asking her out on dates. She kept resisting, but finally decided to go. When she met him for dinner, she didn’t shower or wash her hair or dress up or any of those dumb things we girls do when we get ready for a date. On following occasions she’s really mean to him, trying to say things to put him off. BUT he just keeps trying and trying. He’s really captivated by her. Finally, after quite of bit of time, the walls started to coming down & she allowed herself to love him. It was AMAZING. It was such a look into my own life that I almost cried. (I don’t even allow myself to do that!). I saw what she was doing and I KNOW I do the same things. If someone likes me & I know it, I become very mean. I figure if I hurt myself before he does than it’s better than him hurting me. That way I can tell myself I rejected him instead of another man rejecting me.

At one point in the movie a friend of the main character (her name is Angele) asked her why she always said the opposite of how she felt. Again, I felt the finger of Life pointing at me. Yes, that’s what I do. “Are you ok with so-&-so dating a different girl?” & I say, “Yes, I’m fine.” when inside I’m kicking and screaming. I don’t want to be mean to a man who likes me; I’m just SO SURE that he’s going to reject me that I don’t even let him get close enough. I don’t know how to stop. I really don’t. Maybe it’ll take someone like Antoine (the guy in the movie) who realizes that I’m worth whatever crap he’ll have to go through to take down the walls (if anyone is ever going to be willing to try is something I also have GREAT doubts about). But it was an epiphany. I think that’s why instead I fall in love with movie stars. They cannot and will not ever hurt me. They don’t have the option. The don’t know me. I can love them & never worry that they’ll reject me.

RANDOM OBSERVATIONS:
If you’re going to compliment someone by telling them that their butt looks like J-Lo’s, you might want to stress the Jennifer Lopez-ness of it all so that it doesn’t sound like you’re saying that their butt looks like Jell-O which, no matter how it’s said, it no complimentary.

My hands are green. I think I’m turning into the Incredible Hulk. Actually, I was dying a sweater and a sweatshirt. Why do girl clothes always come in happy-pastels? What’s wrong with dark & murky? I like dark and murky. I’m comfortable there. Anyway, I dyed them green and I used my hands and I dyed them green, too.

I’ve decided that since no man will ever treat me like a Princess, I’m going to have to do so for myself. So, the most Princess-y thing I could think to do (other than kiss frogs) was to put a canopy on my bed. Yes, now I have a canopy hanging from a large wooden hoop & draping across my bed. I think it looks very Princess-y...and when I get bored I pretend it’s mosquito netting & I’m deep in the jungle with some sort of exotic disease being looked after by a tribe of men that look just like Billy Boyd. Ah, an entire tribe of them...at my beck & call. Almost better than the Princess thing only that I’d rather imagine the canopy looks Princess-y & not like mosquito netting. It loses a bit of the romance that way.

Well, I suppose I should stop there. I don’t want you to get bored of me. Oh, you mentioned that you wanted to go inside my brain & see what it’s like. It’s like this: I have symptoms of every single learning disability, but have never gotten a pinned-down diagnosis (personally, I’m leaning toward Ausperger’s). I have delusions of grandeur thinking that my artwork or writing will elevate me into the circles in which people like Billy Boyd run & then all the dumb boys of the world who didn’t chose me will be filled with regret. (I had some beautiful adjectives there before regret but I deleted them, as they were far to mean.) & most of the time there’s background music composed of 1) circus music that goes: dit dit ditty-ditty dit dit dit-ty, 2) some random popular song (as of late, a cross between Colin Hay and Dave Matthews) & 3) a steady scream like this: Aaaahhhhhaaahhhhhahahhhhhh!! (Which might be the ghost of Yoko Ono).

Ok, so, that story took up the end of that page & I just can’t sign my name on it without a good-bye type statement & I can’t let a whole piece of paper be just my signature, so I’ll just keep talking. I can always think of something else.

Everyone (well, my group of everyone) is in Coeur d’Alene going biking. I didn’t want to spend $24.00 to do something that I won’t even do for free, so I’m here. With no one, just my delusions of grandeur and Yoko Ono. Actually my brain doesn’t allow me to store certain information, like the dates of all my brothers’ and sisters’ marriages, divorces, children’s ages, their own ages, the cities they live in, Jamie Freeman’s middle name & the location of soda machines in the admin building! I was going to go to Seattle, but I can pretend that I’m happy about so-and-so dating such-and-whichy only in small bursts where I can run away and deal with it...but I don’t have the capacity to endure it for a weekend at a friend’s house. Especially when there’s plenty of rounds of “Princess” & “Tribe of Billy Boyds” to be played. (If you were here I’d let you sit under the canopy with me..we’d have a cup of herbal tea & pretend we’re rich, snotty British tourists in India during the end of the 1800's–you know what, I think my Dad was right, I DO live in a fantasy world.)

Speaking of you’re being here...I’ve decided that you need to come home & be my roommate again. Seriously, you’re the best roomie I’ve ever had & I want you to come back! Unfortunately when you get back I’ll be graduated, unless I decide to go to Grad school...if I do, can I live with you?...I’ll bring the herbal tea!

Ok, there we go. My rambling has gone on long enough. I’d better go before the tribe of Boyds wonder what I’m doing up!

Love ya!
Maaike