Harpies

Harpies,

Hey, ladies. What's up? How've you been? How was the Jonas Brothers concert/anime convention/waiting outside of wherever Gossip Girl was shooting that day in the rain? Hmm? I'll bet they sang a high note into the same microphone/a voice actor said something vaguely gay in character/the british one came out for a break and smirked and you cried. That's cool. 

Anyways, I decided to contact you to bring up a tiny issue. 

I know, that as an excitable girl between the ages of twelve and sixteen, you have a lot of stuff goin' on in that head of yours. The other girls are starting to get more catty, your parents are letting you set your own bedtimes, hormones are just a-rushin' through your body. Trust me, I get it! Been there, done that, brought home a kitschy snow globe to remember it by. So, maybe this is just me being able to look back on it in retrospect, but hear me out.

Another thing you girls are starting to really enjoy is boys. It's okay, you can say it. It's perfectly normal, and it's just us femmes talkin' here. You can even think about a few that you like now, if you want, before I move on. Yeah, like... uh... Brad Pitt, Leonardo DiCaprio, Johnny Depp, Orlando Bloom... uh... Adrien Brody(?) and whoever's on the cover of Tiger Beat this month. I'm going to assume it's Zac Efron.  

Anyways, now that we're done there, down to brass tax.

I brought up all those ttly hawt hunx (am I relating to you guys?) to prove a point. Think about the last time you spoke to your teeny bopper friends about ol' DiCaps. You girls see Blood Diamond? Maybe? The Departed? Maybe? Romeo + Juliet? Most certainly? Follow through this with me. You're talking to your grrrlfriends about your favorite scene in Romeo + Juliet. That would be the pool scene. Right? What do you like about that scene, exactly? Romeo is pretty romantic, isn't he. He comes to Clare Dane's window all floppy hair and smooth skin and clothes hangin' off. Damn. This is like, your dream. She comes down from the balcony, and they tumble into the pool and start makin' out. Then, he looks at her with those big blue eyes and STOP.

Did you hear that? Did you hear that sound you just emitted? You might not have, because you're around it all the time, but I'm sure anyone around you heard it. Let me fill you in. It sounds a lot like a tea kettle. If that's too old fashioned for you, it sounds a lot like a recording of a tea kettle in your iTunes. 

This is what I wanted to talk to you about, Harpies. This noise needs to stop. This just is not cool, girls, and I'll give you a few reasons why.

1. It is annoying. Yes. It is. I'm sorry to reveal this sad fact, but nothing in the world has ever been more true. 

2. It actually reduces your chances of hooking up. I'm not going to pretend I'm a total expert on the male psyche, but I think it's basically a universal rule that glass shattering hysterics is not a turn on. 

3. It's not a good conversation starter. Honestly, ladies, way to lay your cards out on the table way too early. So, you got that zombie looking motherfucker who plays the vampire in Twilight to stop, fearfully, in his tracks by firing a sound wave a blue whale would be envious of in his direction. Now what? Many of you decided a good follow up to that would be to ask him to suck your blood. Girls... come on. Please. This is embarrassing. Stop it.

4. Risk of injury. And I don't mean to your vocal chords. Look... I'm not gonna say anything incriminating here, but I won't lie and say the idea never passed my mind to punch a girl directly in the larynx. That would put both of us out of our misery. 

And you anime fans, I mentioned you at the beginning of the letter, and then let it slide, but don't think you're getting away scot free. Let me give you a tip, from the Big Dawg (as I am want to call myself), to you. I know there are no real boys to impress in your particular obsession, but no one gets farther from the winner's circle than a doughy white chick "squeeing" and using "kawaii" incorrectly. Sorry. That was harsh, but consider it tough love from someone who broke out of that personality mold like Neo breaking out of that battery pod in The Matrix. 

Anyways, I just thought you should know, Harpies. I don't mean any of this too rudely. Just take it as you will. Maybe it will help make this rough period of your life a little bit easier for you, not to mention a little bit easier for you to look back on when you're older. I say that without the slightest bit of sarcasm, it's best to focus on the things that really matter.

Like what you're going to wear to the spring formal. ZING! Fucking teenagers, am I right? Ah... they just don't give a shit.

Best Wishes,

me.

PS. Some part of my brain says it's a lost cause to try and teach you girls this lesson, but I'm going to ignore it. This is a pretty recent phenomenon anyways, right? It's not like teenage girls have been acting like this forever, right?

German

Dear German,

Guten Tag. I know I only just saw you this morning, but I thought this was important, and just couldn't wait until the next time we met.

Listen. You should sit down. Are you sitting down? Can you sit down, being intangible? Whatever. What I'm trying to say is, this may hurt a little.

I might as well just come out and say it. The truth is, German, that we just aren't a good fit. Nicht gut... fit. See? I don't even know how to say that. Don't get emotional. I'll acknowledge it was new and exciting at first. I had just ended a lengthy relationship with Japanese, and was looking for a friend. You were there. But that's the thing, German. I trusted you. How could you do this to me? Ich habe Angst, German. Ich habe Angst. 

When we started spending more and more time together, I knew something was wrong. We just weren't clicking. We're just too different. You love your complicated verb tenses. I love singing SchoolHouse Rock songs to remember English grammar. And you just kept getting me wrapped up in more and more complicated situations. For example, that chapter about geography and transportation. What was up with that? That was a bad scene. I was so uncomfortable, I even asked you if we could leave, but you ignored me and kept on canoodling with your friends. I kept on getting asked questions about like, some detective, or some blonde chick who hangs out on some rocks, I don't know, I had no idea what anyone was talking about. It might has well have been fucking Elvish, German. And you wondered why the car ride home was so tense. Well, now you know.

Not to mention the massive vocabulary bullshit you lay on me every couple of weeks. I can barely remember what you tried to tell me earlier that month, why are you testing my horrible short term memory like this, German? Have you been talking to Japanese? Did Japanese tell you about how I would sometimes slack off there, and go like, read a comic book instead of looking through vocabulary? I swear that's not what's happening here, German... you're just not my style.

And now comes the hard part. Look... don't think is easy for me, okay? I just... I know we already paid our joint rent for the apartment, so I'll give you until then, but after that, I really think you should move out. I'm sorry. Trust me, it won't be hard to find someone else. There are a lot of people who still love you, German. But you gotta get out. There have been good times, and bad times. Although honestly, I would say more bad than good. Like, 70% bad times, 30% good times. Whatever. Take care of yourself.

Also, I thought you should know that I'm swearing off foreign languages after this. You've driven me to bat for the other team, as it were. (The other team being... y'know, not foreign languages.)

With regret,

me.