My Un-Love Letter

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Dear MTA,

Even though I hate you with a passion, this is not a hate note this is a complaint. I am writing to formally complain about every single thing you do. I find it ridiculous that from where I am in Brooklyn, it takes me an hour and a half to get into a different part of Brooklyn, because I have to ride the stupid train into the city and then back out.

Why? Why isn’t there just a line that connects the last train stop of the A, E, J, 3, L, 2, 5, B, Q, D, F, N? It would be the perfect answer to all of these questions. I know- it costs money… but I believe I am now paying at least $5 a day to ride the train. Yes, I know there are many other things that money goes to. But, what is it? Its still just as filthy down there and nothing seems to be getting better. So how come I can’t just have my extra train line?

If I were to become president of the U.S. my first act would be to take care of the MTA. I would throw all my resources and money at it. I don’t want anything fancy, just trains that ACTUALLY run at least always during the day, and those really necessary extra train lines.

I am no fool. I know the rest of the country would be a mess. But at least I could ride the train back and forth all day long and smile.

Love,

This disgruntled customer

I know there are more of me out there, so lets hear what your mta problem is…

The Casey Anthony Verdict

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I have said, for a long time now, that I do not want children. They are wonderful, beautiful additions to the world, but sometimes they do not fit into a person’s lifestyle. The Casey Anthony case has only served to reaffirm my decision.

A few facts of the case

– Caylee Anthony left her grandparents home on June 16th, 2008 with her mother, Casey Anthony. They claim to have asked to see their granddaughter on several occasions but Casey always said she was too busy with work or that Caylee was with her nanny, Zenaida Fernadez-Gonzalez.

– Casey returned home 31 days later, without Caylee.

– Zenaida Fernandez-Gonzalez claims to never have met Casey or Caylee.

– Her remains were found on December 11, 2008.

– Casey Anthony was charged with giving false information to the police after lying about working for Universal Studios for the last few years.

– Forensics found evidence of decomposition in her car, but could not prove that it was from a human body.

– Photos were taken and used as evidence in the trail; of Casey Anthony partying just days after Caylee was reported missing.

– A search on the family computers showed that someone had googled “how to make chloroform” and “neck breaking” and “death”.

Personally, I believe Casey Anthony killed her daughter by mistake. Maybe she was only trying to get Caylee to sleep so she could go out, and something went wrong so she covered it up after the fact. The lies she told we either to cover her tracks or were things she said out of fear that she would be busted for something she did not do. Either way, the fact that she neglected to report Caylee missing for so long, should earn her some jail time.

As evident by the photos taken after Caylee had gone missing, Casey was not too grieved that she could not go out and party. She is young, attractive, and clearly likes to have a good time. I, being around the same age as her, can absolutely appreciate that.

I know most people are not crazy enough to kill their children or make chloroform in order to get them to bed. But, people should try their hardest not to put themselves in positions that they do not wish to be in. Children are a huge responsibility and there are so many options for a woman who gets pregnant and does not wish to be a mother. Your biggest responsibility as a parent is to make sure your child will be loved. If you know you may not be capable of that, do the right thing and find a way to ensure that he or she will be.

What’s it to you?

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I was under the impression that New York was where all the weirdo’s, artists, unconventional people came to live. So why does senate keep putting off this silly vote. I would like to send out a message to all those silly people opposed to gay marriage.

First let me say I commend anyone who embraces their homosexuality.  I believe them to be very brave, because I know it must not be easy to have people stare, whisper, and judge. But I also have come to a place where someone being gay is just another thing about them, not anything to spend too much time thinking about. I don’t expect people to care too much that I am straight, so why make a big deal that someone else isn’t. Homosexuality, in my mind at least, has become a norm. I would also like to point out that I am not religious. But if there is a God, and he is who everyone claims he is, it’s impossible for being gay to be sin.

Now, here is my message. Lets just say, for arguments sake, that it a sin. What difference does it make to you? As long as you don’t sleep with anyone of the same sex you will not be going to hell. Last I checked, it was not your job to save everyone from eternity in the pits of hell. Why can’t you just say to each his own and let it be?

Honestly if the gays are in hell in the after life, thats where I want to be anyway. Sounds like loads more fun than the heaven you stuffy people will be in.

Personality Shifters

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I have been a serial monogamist since I was 14 years old.  I am well versed in the art of pleasing a man.  Get your mind out of the gutter that is not what I mean.  I mean the art of compromising, of learning about the things he loves in order to keep him smiling and interested.  But let me assure you, it is in fact an art.  I have known so many people who are awful at it.  On the one hand you have those super self righteous girls who refuse to compromise in any way because they are “independent” or whatever.

More often I come across the other much more infuriating kind.  The kind who become carbon copies of the men/boyfriend they are dating.  All of a sudden she goes from watching Gossip Girl to posting Facebook statuses about the amazing Rangers game.  Who watches hockey anyway?  She dies her hair because he prefers blondes (this is an actual conversation I overheard on a train ride).  She is suddenly not only reading but pretending to love The Watchmen the comic book.

I know there are girls who genuinely like sports and comic books, and no I do not have anything against them.  I also take no issue with girls who take an interest in their boyfriend’s life.  I myself watch basketball from time to time because I know it will make my boyfriend smile.  But, I never pretend to be all wrapped up in who is going to make the finals. 

Ladies please, I know you love him, but love yourself too.  Don’t lose your own personality for your man, not unless he is sitting at home watching Glee in order to connect with you.  Then he might deserve your complete and total devotion.

Don’t Stand So Close To Me

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I am assuming most of you have been praying for the summer to roll around.  I know I certainly have.  This winter was a tough one, one for which I bought a coat I absolutely despised wearing because it was the only one that actually kept me warm.  Even though I got hit on while wearing it once (“damn ma you walkin’ real fast in that coat, that’s sexy”… why is that sexy and how can you see me under this big blue marshmallow coat?), I know what I really looked like.

In any event now that it finally is warm out I have a whole new list of things to complain about.  At the very top of my list are people that have never heard of personal space.  It is 88 degrees outside, is there a specific reason you are standing so close to me?  Perhaps I just did not notice it, because I subconsciously longed for body heat to keep away the frost bite, but I do not remember having this problem a few months ago.  For those of you who are confused, here are a few things to keep in mind:

  1. If I can feel your skin on my skin, you are too close to me, please move.
  2. If I can smell you (your pits, breath, or any other part of you that smells a little tart these days) you are standing too close to me please move.  Maybe use some soap and deodorant or toothpaste too.
  3. If you have to sit on my lap before you get to the teeny tiny empty space that is next to me on the train, you are too close to me and there is not enough room for you.  Please move.
  4. If you have stepped on the back of my shoe, not once but twice, you are too close to me.  Please wait an extra moment before you take the next step.
  5. If you are enjoying the book I am reading on my kindle, you are too close to me.  My font is small and I paid for this book so please back up. Or at least give me a dollar.

There are various other ways to know when you are standing too close.  Usually the best way to know is if that person is giving you an extra dirty look.  It is just too hot outside to be this close together.  Please take two steps back.  For the rest of you, please feel free to share this link with the person standing too close behind you, reading this off your screen.

>The Plaid Epidemic

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          I was sitting in a coffee shop doing some writing.  I looked up in thought for a moment and was distracted by plaid.  It was everywhere I looked on every guy sitting in there.  Okay, not every guy, but most of them.  I laughed it off.  A few nights later I was on a double date with a good friend of mine.  Our boyfriends took off their jackets to reveal that, not only were they both in plaid, they were nearly identical shirts.  I should point out that the boys were meeting each other for the first time that day, so there was no “I’ll call you and tell you what I’m wearing” thing going on.  I think only girls do that, and usually so they don’t show up wearing the same shirt they both bought in different colors because it was so damn cute.
         In the coming weeks I started to notice it all over the place.  I started playing a game counting all the plaid shirts on the train.  The final straw came when I saw two kids playing in the park wearing button down plaid shirts.  Neither was older than six years old.  I thought, it has officially gone too far, these are children for goodness sake!
            I am no fool, it came to my attention long ago that dudes do not like to take too much time getting dressed.  It’s not at all that I think plaid shirts are ugly.  To be honest, I used to thank the good divine for plaid button downs.  It seemed that all of a sudden boys were looking less messy, but I am over it.  Fella’s are you aware that stores sell button down shirts that are NOT plaid?  They do exist I promise and you all look so handsome in them!  I know many of you are thinking I am crazy and annoying for complaining but it’s a serious concern of mine.  If I were Oprah, everyone would get a solid button down shirt, perhaps even pin stripped.

>Apocalypse Now!

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I have noticed a growing trend lately, both in my summer poetry workshop, amongst the members of my writers’ group, and even on the news.  The apocalypse.  People have become increasingly obsessed with the end of the world.  It has even made its way into my own fiction writing.  I have a theory.

I am a recent college graduate (though quickly becoming not so recent) who is having a hell of a time finding work.  I have got a whole lot of time on my hands and no money to spend.  My current full time job is looking for work and there is absolutely no reason to believe it will get any better.  I know the economy is bad and there are people far older and wiser who are also looking for work.

I am convinced if I looked into a crystal ball into my future I would see myself living in a box, hungry, sad, and cold, penning stories onto the sides of my cardboard home.  It’s my very own apocalypse.  Naturally, once I had died of starvation or hyperthermia someone would stumble across my box and publish it all.  It will make tons of money because I am actually rather good.  Actually, that sounds like a pretty good story idea (copywrite!)

In any event I have decided that all of this end of the world, judgment day, apocalypse mumbo jumbo is attributed to the fact that it certainly does feel like the entire world is coming down around us.  Perhaps we could make it work in the opposite direction.  If we all wrote and painted pictures of the sun shining and flowers in mid bloom would it stop raining?

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