World Spins Madly On

Hey, you.

Before you ask, the title is the name of the song I was listening to when I opened this page. It's by the Weepies, who are a folksy sort of duo singers/guitarists. It turns out they're married too, though they weren't when they started the band. Funny how that works, huh?

Anyway, I'm sad to report the death of LoFiNoYoAbInPaMo, and I admit that it is utterly and completely my fault. A few bad days just really put me off the mood of novel-writing, and I'm still not quite inspired to do so. My bad, my bad, and I feel really terrible about it. I still think you should just keep writing without me. Although admittedly, you just wrote a poem like half an hour ago. You seem to have no trouble with being productive. Unlike certain people writing this letter...

Re: Rapidash. I concede that Ninetails is in fact highly badass (as my role in Pokémafia proved), and do not dispute that it is perhaps a more effective fire type to have around. But. Keep in mind that when the craze first erupted (in a rather Mt. St. Helens-esque fashion), we were around the tender age of nine. At nine years old, I was struggling between my tomboy tendencies and the pressure of liking Barbies and Polly Pocket and all that. Clearly the tomboy urge was somewhat dominant, as I was playing Pokémon at all. But out of all those potential favorites, it seems pretty reasonable for a nine-year-old impressionable girl with a liking for horses and a boyish appreciation of natural distasters to find a flaming unicorn the Best. Thing. Ever. And I did so. I also will cavalierly ignore your discussion of games such as Ruby and Saphire because I stopped playing after Silver. So, um, there. Rapidash is sentimentally very significant to me, and was one of those little childhood things that reminded me I could reconcile my various interests and predispositions. (Belle from Beauty and the Beast was another one, she was the first thing besides my mom to suggest that one could be both pretty and smart...)

You talked about your job starting in your last letter. I know for a fact that it has started, and you are rather enjoying it. I think I would be too, if it were my job. (Were my job, or was my job? It's subjunctive, and I've never been quite sure how that works). You also have procured a car. You've been more productive in the past few weeks than I have all summer. Kudos, seriously.

This brings us to music, with complete disregard for a transition. That's how I roll today. I'm really okay with the fact that you don't like Arcade Fire or Andrew Bird, even though I don't understand why. It's personal taste, and I can't make you have mine. It's cool when you do like something of mine, but I am quite willing to accept that everyone has their own preferences. And of course, we've seen that I'm not the hugest fan of some of your music, and I hope that's fine. As you said, it just means we can argue finer points of things without it just becoming one constant agreement. Because really, that's no fun at all. And part of the fun of finding new things to recommend is hoping that I've found one of the ones you'll actually like. More risk, but more gain, I suppose!

Anyway. I think I am done for now, so I will finish and allow you to read this on your iPod, because you are too snooze-ful to get out of bed. Which is kind of adorable. I once again apologize for my tardiness in responding, and hopefully we'll get better at this. I really, really hope we do that.

E3-,
Kelly