House Theater,
Please let me be in your really cool plays after I graduate college. PLEASE!
29.11.07
27.11.07
21.11.07
12.11.07
http://www.anthropologie.com/anthro/catalog/productdetail.jsp?_dyncharset=ISO-8859-1&_dynSessConf=-1234669611404633870&id=741596&parentid=ACC_COLD_WEATHER_HATS&pushId=ACC_COLD_WEATHER_HATS&popId=ACC_COLD_WEATHER&sortProperties=&navCount=14&navAction=poppushpush&fromCategoryPage=true&selectedProductSize=&selectedProductSize1=&color=cam
URL for the bag: http://www.anthropologie.com/anthro/catalog/productdetail.jsp?_dyncharset=ISO-8859-1&_dynSessConf=1527973013195025261&id=74440&parentid=SB_BAGS_SHOULDER&pushId=SB_BAGS_SHOULDER&popId=SB_BAGS_WALLETS&sortProperties=&navCount=10&navAction=poppushpush&fromCategoryPage=true&selectedProductSize=&selectedProductSize1=&color=win
11.11.07
RE: Christmas
Dear Esteemed Family Members,
I have recently been informed that there will be a Christmas gift lottery this year. This is a decision I am fine with. But let me ask you this, generous aunts and uncles, why should my two younger colleagues, Remy and Lillian, not be included? Why should their mere months shy of 18 allow them to receive presents from all of the family members and buy for whomever they please when the rest of us will get and give only ONE!? I suggest that these two, whose maturity levels surpass that of an 18 year old anyday, anyway, be ushered into adult hood just as the rest of have. I am sure that these two will graciously step into the inner circle of adulthood and have a grand old time being included in the very exclusive gift lottery.
Thank You.
Zoe Schwartz
9.11.07
Any names similar to the names of real people are not actually supposed to be those people but a fictional representation of them
Always Billy
July 10th, 2007
Dear Billy,
I cannot go another day without telling you how I feel. I have sat silently for years and years sitting behind you year after year (what an evil hand fate has in having made our last names so similar! ) I watched as you grew from a boy to man, I saw your style change from the clothes your mother had bought you to that one day in 7th grade when you came in wearing that shirt with the surf board on it that I knew Mrs. Condon could have never picked out. I watched as you read car magazines on the inside of your text books during class and passed notes with John Homes. I saw when girls started noticing you (even though I had noticed you forever) and watched as you had a new girl at your side every week. I yearned to be those girls with their long silky hair and nice shoes. I used to imagine that one day you would turn around not only to ask me to borrow a pencil (half of the pencils I lent you I never saw again!) but tell me the beauty you saw in my eyes. Or how lovely you though my in class essay about the mating habits of Amazon tree frogs was. I wished so many times that you would see past my second hand clothes and glasses to the core of me where truth and beauty abound. But you never did. You were too busy trying out for football and soccer and baseball and choir and trying to get in the pants of Melissa Mason to notice me.
At graduation I walked behind you smelling your expensive Ralph Lauren cologne that I’m sure Melissa gave you for Christmas or Valentine’s day some year. There were many nights I lay awake imaging our first Christmas together. I would hand you a long narrow box that you would think was a sweater. Another Sweater! You would say and give me a joking look (because in my mind we had this inside joke about sweaters and how I had so many) You would tear off the chocolate brown wrapping paper and turquoise bow, pull off the lid to reveal two tickets! Two tickets for you and me to an acoustic Deep Blue Something show. (Because in my mind our song was that song “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” because that was the last song I heard in the car on the way to school the first day I saw you.) You would see the tickets, give me a sly smile and then leap at me from the foot of the Christmas tree. You would kiss me passionately for a long moment and then break off and start playfully nipping at my neck.
But, Billy, I’m tired of my imagination. I’m tired of only seeing you from afar and never up close and personal. I love you. I love everything about you. I always have. I figure its now or never. We’re both leaving for school at the end of the summer. I just want to know. Do you feel the same? Could you? Have you? Maybe we could get some coffee sometime? Just talk? I would enjoy that.
Forever Yours,
Shelly Conley
P.S. I’ve included a picture I drew during our last homeroom period of us at your beach house before we leave for college in August. Notice the attention to detail!
P.P.S In case you accidentally throw away the envelope with my return address on it here is my address:
Shelly Conley
1135 Troost
Redding, MA
Also, my phone number is 617-356-1867
Also, I hope to talk to you soon.
July 27th, 2007
Dear Billy,
Its been about two weeks since I sent my first letter. I am worried you haven’t gotten it. I am also worried you may have received it but have not had time to respond. In any case, I will not restate what I said in the first letter, if you have already read it. However, I will say that I recently saw you at The Maple Tree with John, Melissa, and Roberta. You guys were sitting at the big round table in the back drinking cokes and eating pancakes. What a funny combination. I mean, coke is not a breakfast drink! I was sitting the front with my little brother who I had to babysit all day. What a lame way to spend a lovely summer day, hanging out with a 12 year old boy!
Anyway we were having lunch (he had a cheese burger and fries and I had chicken soup with an unlimited bread basket) and I was watching you guys laughing and sipping your cokes, although I bet Melissa’s was probably a diet. I was imagining I was sitting beside you, tucked into that little nook under your arm-pit, smelling the mix of your sweat, deodorant, and Ralph Lauren mist. Although, you probably only wear it on special occasions. I would slide my arm behind you brushing your back and the booth and caress the small of your back with my forearm. As I was mid fantasy George, my brother, knocked over his sprite. (Hes not allowed to have caffeine!) There was a big raucous as it spilled onto his lap and the waitress brought over so many napkins and gave us an annoyed look. I’m pretty sure you looked up at that point and that we might have made eye contact across the bustling restaurant. Your piercing blue eyes glued to mine in the fury of a mid-afternoon lunch rush in late July. What could be more romantic?
You looked at me and then turned and buried your nose in Melissa’s neck. Was this to hide your love in front of her and them? Was this to make me want you more? Because if it was the latter, boy did you succeed!
Tomorrow I am starting a two week class at the community college. It is an astronomy class. Its mostly to kill time before leaving for school, but its also going to count for an earth science credit when I get to school! Which means one extra class I can take there. I am hoping it will be interesting. At least it will be better then not doing anything all day.
I have so many things I want to tell you, I hope you’ll still consider getting together with me. There is very little time left before I leave…
Forever and ever and ever,
Shelly
August 5, 2007
Billy,
I heard yesterday that you were in an accident. I was at the mall with my friend Samantha I met at my community college class (astronomy, remember?) and she apparently is the twin sister of this guy who is in your extended social circle, his name is Brian Anderson. We ran into him at Panda Express and he told her that you had been in accident. He said that last night you and some other people were driving home from a party at Mary Cleary’s house and that you decided to go speeding down some back roads. I can’t believe you would do something as reckless as turning off your headlights and speeding to impress some girls! Look what happened! I hope that you are okay, and I hope the deer you hit is okay, and I hope the windshield isn’t un-repairable. Brian made it sound like the whole accident was really bad. Like maybe you spent the night in the hospital or had to get stitches and maybe had a concussion. He didn’t know exactly what the prognosis was. I just really hope you’re okay. I hope you guys weren’t drunk and that the deer didn’t deform your face at all. I’m really worried about you. If you get this will you please contact me somehow and let me know you are okay? Or if you are incapacitated can you have someone else let me know? Just so I can rest easy?
By the way, I’m also a little annoyed you never responded to my previous two letters. I’m pretty sure you are getting them, but I can’t think of a decent excuse why you would never even just say a hello. But I suppose this is a poor time to tell you that, seeing as how you may be on the brink of death after the accident. My thoughts are with you. Always.
Always,
Shelly
August 10th, 2007
Billy,
I would have written this letter sooner, but I have been in my room crying since I found out. After sending my last letter and not receiving any sort of call or contact I was thinking the worst. It took a lot of courage on my part, but I called your house, very concerned, to see if you were doing all right. I decided I would make the call on speaker-phone and record, just in case I did speak to you. At that point I was thinking it would be nice to have a bit of your voice that I could listen to whenever I was lonely. But you weren’t home. This is the conversation I had with your mother, word for word, transcribed from my recording, so you can see exactly how things played out.
“Hello, Mrs. Condon, this is Shelly Conley, Sam and Katherine’s daughter.”
“Oh, Shelly, how is your dad’s back? We really missed him at church last week.”
“Hes recovered completely and is back at work, thanks. I am really wondering how Billy is. I heard about the accident.”
“The accident?”
“Um…yes, I heard through some friends that he was in a car accident and was badly injured.”
“Well, this is the first I’m hearing of an accident. Billy is out playing ultimate Frisbee with some kids, right now. Unless it happened in the last hour or two, I’m pretty sure he hasn’t sustained any serious injuries.”
“Are you sure? One hundred percent sure?”
“I think so, Shelly.”
“Oh, well. Okay. I guess I’ll talk to you later.”
“I’ll let him know you called.”
“Thanks, bye.”
After this phone conversation with your mother, I was baffled, confused. How could I have been given such false information? I called my mom and talked to her for a while about it and she told me that I will meet plenty of boys at college who will appreciate me. But what does that have to do with the fabrication of a possibly fatal accident! In my fit of confusion I called Samantha, Brian’s sister. We had a very interesting phone conversation. It was also recorded for posterity and it as follows:
“Hey Samantha, it’s Shelly, from class.”
“Oh hey! How are you? Are you as in love with comets as I am right now?”
“Yeah, I probably am. But that’s not the point of this phone call.”
“Oh, can you not come to our movie night tonight? I already bought some brownie mix…”
“No I can, but I just called Billy’s mom and asked her if he was okay after the accident and she said there never was an accident!”
“Oh yeah.”
“What do you mean oh yeah? Did you know about this?”
“Well, not at the time. Brian just told me the other night he was actually at the mall with Billy. Billy had seen you and I guess thought it would be funny if he ran and hid and Brian told you he had died or gotten hurt or something because you are totally obsessed with him or something. But I told Brian that that was a really awful thing to do to someone, especially to my friend, and that there’s no way you would even spend a second thinking about Billy Condon! He’s such an ass. You’re way smarter than he’ll ever be.”
“Why didn’t you call me and tell me right away?”
“I thought it was inconsequential. I didn’t think you would have any emotional investment in Billy Condon.”
“Well, I do. I’m in love with him and I always have been. I wish you would have told me. I can’t believe he would do this.”
“Man, sorry Shelly. I didn’t think it would be a big deal, just a practical joke. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything.”
“It’s not your fault. I think I might skip our movie though, I kind of just feel like being alone.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“No, but tell your brother I think he’s pond scum.”
“I will. See you in class tomorrow.”
“Bye.”
But I didn’t go to class, Billy. I didn’t go to class because I stayed up all night crying because you purposefully tricked me and embarrassed me. Why would you do that? We have barely had a real conversation in the whole time we’ve existed on the same planet. You meant everything to me and I mean nothing to you. Do you know what it feels like to know you mean nothing to someone whom you have loved unconditionally for years? It feels like someone stabbed you. That’s what it feels like. You broke my heart Billy. You were the only one who ever held it and now its in pieces on my bedroom floor and apparently I have been being humiliated behind my back for a very long time by YOU. You are not who I thought you were and you are not someone I should be associated with. You are an awful person, Billy. I hope you really do get hit by a deer and bleed all over the nice interior of your parents car.
9.25.2007
Billy,
I’m writing to you to tell you that I forgive you for what you did to me over the summer. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about it. I still think it was really mean, but how can I be mad at you for not loving me back? I guess I was mad you never even gave it a chance and just cast me off without even getting to know me. I would have bought you tickets to Deep Blue Something, Billy! But you never saw that. You only saw my place on the social ladder, or the pile of books on my desk. Surely there is more to a person then that. The fact that you don’t know that and possibly never will is the silver lining in the hurricane you have caused in my heart. I will get over you Billy, in fact I am getting over you. Just yesterday I met a really nice boy at the library. I dropped my pencil and it rolled under his feet. He picked it up and handed it to me. He smiled and said, “I like your shirt.” I smiled back and said, “It used to be my Grandma’s.” I am hoping he might be there this evening. I am hoping a lot of things, Billy. This is my future and every door is open. That is, every door except yours. But I don’t need your door anymore. It was always blocked by something. I can’t believe I spent so long loving you and never receiving anything in return. Not even a hello. I really am baffled at how I never noticed what a jerk you were. I guess that was my childhood idealism or something. But I’m a woman in college now, I am worldly and educated, or at least on my there.
There is a part of me that is a little melancholy that this will be my last letter to you. Almost like I am killing a part of myself, a part of my adolescence. But it has to be done. You are no longer important to me, and I need you to know that. I hope one day we can laugh about all this, but until then, good-bye.
-Shelly
P.S. Melissa Mason cheated on you Junior year of high school with Brian Anderson. Samantha, his sister, told me that there was a period of a few weeks when she was coming over every night and they would make out in the TV room. Just thought you should know before you propose, or get her pregnant.