Sunday for Billie

From this window, I spy a woman in white heels, a team of little leaguers playing ball and a candy store I’ve been curious about. As my co- workers dance to the latest in world beat music, I tell my rude customers there no public restrooms here.

The way I usually start these letters is with a hi, how are you, followed by a list of questions that center around the state of your affairs.

I end the questioning with a hope you’re doing well (which is sincere) and break into a list of current happenings in my life.
I rant about work/school in such a way that one would think I despised them, when really the opposite was true.
I love my work and academia with all it’s flaws I just wonder how much of my identity it really is anymore. I’ve been having trouble connecting and feeling disconnected at the same time. Do you know what I mean?

Anyhow, I explain how difficult/easy everything is and at the end throw in some random information that will seem important to me but you and your efficiency will find it unnecessary.

Therefore, I have chosen to spare you. I’ll spare you the delicate details of my new life in the land of ice and snow, as you once called it. I’ll spare you the blow-by-blow descriptions of my sister high school like work turmoil.
I’ll keep the perils of her work embarrassment (Oh my god, he tried to sleep with you!) and drama (WTF! He’s sleeping with her!) to myself.

I will not bore you with the personal tales of a young woman who wanders the streets looking meaning, warmth and a little bit of perfection in a place where the most important things are frozen all year round.

Perfect is what you are willing to put up with and the real word for it is compromise. This young woman fears that with all her imperfections, she has made herself unsuitable for anyone or anything. A poisonous orchid almost.
Perfect is lying in bed on a rainy day. Perfect is getting to the last page of a novel and realizing the ride isn’t over. Perfect is sitting on the subway at 2am, writing a long love letter to no one in particular. Then mailing it.

Don’t think too deeply about what I’ve written. This is all stuff you already know.