The second letter has been mailed. I can only assume it has been recieved, though I have not heard for certain.
Something weird came up while writing this SSM letter. I got completely and totally self-conscious. Here’s a stream-of-conscience list of things that went through my head before, during, and after writing said letter:
I haven’t written to XYZ in a long time. Maybe ever…
XYZ knows a lot about me from Facebook, so I can’t put THAT stuff in here.
I’ll just talk about what I’m thinking.
What if this isn’t cool enough for XYZ? Because XYZ is pretty cool…
Did I just write that?
That was lame. Follow up with something less lame.
Should I even finish this?
I should start over.
I should not mail this.
I will wait until I have something better to say and a better way to say it.
Dammit. I wish I had a backspace delete on these notecards.
I’ve run out of room and I’ve said nothing good. This was supposed to be a good, cherishable, keepable, awesome letter.
In the end, it was stamped and mailed.
Isn’t that weird? I’m *mumble mumble* years old (more than 16, fewer than 40) and I’m getting nervous and self-doubty writing a letter to a friend. A friend! There’s nothing on the line – XYZ isn’t going to give me a job or a book deal or send me money if my letter is a certain caliber of awesome or degree of worthy or whatever.
I don’t think I’ll ever outgrow my self-consciousness.