An open letter to someone I don't talk to as much as I'd like to...

Hey Kristy!

What's up in Colorado? I think you're one of my most neglected friends. I don't ever seem to have time for a Colorado swing when I head out to Arizona and Utah. I have had the thought to call you and catch up so many times, but somehow the insanity of working nights and trying to run a business have overwhelmed me. You're not alone, incidentally, in fact, I regularly have friends in Boston tell me how little they see me. This is all truly unfortunate. I miss going to the park with you and talking about life. You're one of those who have had the frequent pleasure of listening to me ramble for an hour at a time on some subject before I finally say something really useful, which also happens to answer my own questions.

I miss hanging out on your bed during parties, and seeing how many people come and go from the room. I have the picture Diana took, of you, me and Pugs on your bed. It's one of my favorite pictures from Boston. I think you'd really have enjoyed the studio too, which didn't really get going till after you left. Then when you came to visit over the 4th, I only saw ya twice, on account of my lame-o job. I'm glad you like Colorado (it's a gorgeous state), and working for Santa Claus. You seem to keep drawing Boston people your direction (at least the ones named Katie). But please remember that even if we don't talk so much, this Boston person misses you lots.


The "Show Me" state... Ha!

An open letter to someone I'd like to meet.

Dear President Obama,

You are someone I would like to meet. The main reason for this is that I have a theory about you I'd like to measure. I think you're both more and less complicated than almost anyone would have me believe, including yourself. You and the political organization behind you (by which I don't mean the democratic party), I mean your group of people, I think would like me and most of America to think that you are a misplaced idealist in a world of cynics, and that rather than agendas, you have principles.

And while I do believe those things about you, I don't believe them without a grain (or a shaker full) of salt. By which I mean this... I think you would like to do your work in the spirit of compromise and non-partisanship. I think hard-core partisanship has to some degree forced your hand, and you have responded like they tell us a "strong President" should, by working however you need to, to legislate and govern effectively. I have to admit though, to disappointment.

It's like this... I think there are four kinds of people in America, and I'm not gonna bother to put labels on them like party affiliations or meaningless monikers like liberal or conservative.

There are people who voted for you that wish you were more like Ghandi than a Chief Executive. That is, they wish you'd responded to partisan stonewalling from the Republicans, by refusing to dignify their game, rather than by jamming your agenda through on one side, by watering down your original plan. They'd say our country doesn't need the health care bill you passed, it needs the bill you actually wanted (that by all measures, could never have passed). This group of people didn't want you to stand up and declare a victory. They wanted single-payer health care and real cost control. They wanted the way of business for health insurers to change. They would rather see every legislative effort you make fall short, than see you wiggle, maneuver, and back room a less-effective bill, then claim a substantial victory.

There are people who voted for you who wish you'd grow a pair. Republicans not participating in the health care bill? Get in their face. Wall Street and Bankers lobbying hard against reform? Bring 'em on. Oil companies not taking responsibility? Make them pay. In fact, that's the exact image, I'd say that your press secretary would like them to have of your administration. So why are there still a lot of people who think you're playing softball against the Yankees? The fact is, while you've tried to be tough, where toughness is required, you're not scaring anybody. Well, you're scaring plenty of people who are just afraid of black people, but not the people you need to scare. If big money and big lobbies aren't afraid of you, that's a problem. It means you lack political muscle. These people want to see more shameless politics.

There are people who did not vote for you who think you're actively destroying everything that America is about. They're plenty scared of you. Maybe they're a bit racist, maybe they're not at all. Maybe they are just afraid you're rabid left-wing agenda is gonna take away their guns and tax them into oblivion. You think I'm dismissing these people, I am not. In fact, I kinda love these people, especially the ones from Alabama. And while you might think they should be more concerned about their failing schools, than the gun show loophole (and you'd be right), the fact is they have a right to be concerned about those things. Their way of life and their traditions are important to them. They need, and in fact would have more trust for, a leader who will work with them on the issues they see as important and then work on a way to help their states and communities improve their educational infrastructure and empower their youth.

There are people who did not vote for you that think you're weak. In fact, they think they smell blood, and they will pounce on your jugular the minute you expose it. Weakness is intolerable to them in a leader and they will happily elect a thousand men like the guy you replaced. They don't even care if he seems a bit stupid, as long as he wouldn't lose in a fist fight. They don't especially care if he's particularly effective or if he's ultimately being manipulated for someone else's purposes, as long as he doesn't appear weak. Some of these people are what you'd call the ruling class in this country, people who have purposefully sought and obtained all kinds of power. They especially, want to exploit the weakness they think they perceive in you.

I'm not gonna tell you what camp I put myself in, because ultimately it doesn't matter. The killer here is that all of us are right. People see a timidity that is really there. People see an aggressiveness that is really there. We all want you to be a level headed cooperator and we all want you to be a ruthless son of a biotch. You can't win, but you can lead. We all want you to lead us, even those that didn't vote for you. Do you believe that? I hope you do. You're not Stalin or Hitler (only Glenn Beck thinks you could somehow be both) and you're not Ghandi or MLK. Nobody thinks you are. I don't think if pressed, any of us would say we wanted you to be any of those people. We want you to be the President of the United States. Even those who hate you would prefer if you did a decent job till they get a chance to vote you out. The bottom line is if you lead us we will respect you. We will never all be happy, but we will follow. Don't be afraid to lead, don't be afraid to consort with the enemy. And don't be too proud to do either.

And call our damn Congress out for what they are and make them lead us too!



Sincerely and A-Politically,

Jared

P.S. Smile more. You have a good smile.

An open letter to my best internet friend...

Dear Liz, Beth, or Elizabeth,

Being the only girl I know who actually goes happily, by all of them...

I don't suppose many people would be flattered to be identified as an "internet friend", especially when you've had as much real-life friendship as we have. But as I think about it, I don't have any other friends I knew so well online, before I knew them in real life, as you. If only it had been facebook, we could have told people how we met without the cloud of shame... but alas it was MySpace. I wish I actually still knew my login for that long inactive myspace account, cause I could go back and read the effing ton of mail we sent each other before we ever met. I also forget how we happened to become friends... did I add you? Did you add me? I feel like these are questions you'd know the answers to.

Anyway, thanks for proving for me that relationships seeded online, can bloom in real life. It always feels like a really long time between when we talk, as it usually is, and we don't talk as long or as passionately as we used to about subjects deserving little or no passion. I frequently remember one thing you said in frustration, that I think defines you down to the fundamental essence. I believe you were discussing sweet versus dill pickles, or something most people would qualify as equally banal...

"Uuuuggggghh. It's so exhausting being passionate about EVERYTHING."

And you were. Everything mattered. I hate to say this here, of all the places I could say it, but the saddest words I ever heard from you were uttered on AIM sometime last year when you told me you'd been pretty involved at work, and that you "don't really listen to music anymore." I started a music share after that which, while infrequent, lets me share music I love with people I love. I was sad when the first couple installments weren't ever downloaded from the server, and at one point when I added others to the mailing, I dropped your address. I don't know why I did that, actually... For the life of me, I can't understand why the fact you didn't take the music I offered you, made it hurt anything to just keep your name on the mailer. I don't know when I'll send again (can't remember the last time I sent one), but know that I just put your gmail address back on the list, and whether or not you get the time to download some music and listen to it, doesn't really matter to me. I friggin' love your guts, and that music is for people I love.


Love, Mooney

An open letter to an ex-girlfriend...

Dear Tyler, err... Tay-tay,

I've thought many times about our 4 month relationship, since its dissolution at my hands several years ago. You were my first real girlfriend. I didn't date much in high school, got into an ill-conceived little something with a redhead just before my mission, and then went on my mission. About a semester into BYU, I met you and asked you out. Our first date remains one of the best dates of my life. We didn't even do anything particularly cool, we just hit it off so well. For the first time ever, making progress in dating someone seemed... well, effortless. Instead of over-thinking things, I just did what felt natural and we quickly developed a really good little relationship.

You were a great girlfriend too, you gave me a spectacular 22nd birthday, and I really can't think of much I ever didn't like about you. I was actually eager to see you after work and spend time with you. When we started getting serious though, for some reason, I broke us up. Actually, I don't think I gave you much of a reason, and the real reason wasn't a particularly good reason as it was. Basically, I had some stupid pre-decided notion in my head that I wasn't, under any circumstances, gonna marry my first girlfriend off the mission... as if life was ever one of those things that you could approach so mathematically. I hate math, so I have no idea why I let myself be directed by such an incoherent whim, especially on something that was important, like a person's feelings. I don't think I expected you to be as hurt as you were. I certainly didn't expect you to kinda hate me for a while and then move away and never come back, but that's what you did. Everyone in my life who had met you, from my friends to my parents, basically told me I was a huge idiot. I was too. I don't think, in hindsight, we would have actually gotten married. But I wish we had taken the route where we actually got to find that out together. As loving people is one the most important priorities in my life, I've never dealt particularly well with the knowledge that I've hurt some people deeply, who deserved much more care at my hands... You're one of those people.

I've often wondered where you ended up, and with whom. I went through a lot of relationships after ours, and most of them were actually kinda bad for me. Some were turbulent, some were hasty, some were mutually unhealthy. I am now 30 years old and unmarried. However, I am also in the best relationship of my life, and while I am not where I ever expected to be, I am where I want to be. I hope more than anything, that you can say the same. I'm sure you can. I regret little, as I don't think there is much use to regret, but know that I regret my ending our brief and happy walk together, before we got to look around any of the bends.

Love, Jared

An open letter to a stranger.

Dear octogenarian driving the Buick in front of me on my way to work today...

Would you like another sedative?

Cause you weren't driving slow enough down the middle of two lanes, or swerving quite erratically enough to not fit neatly in to my pre-constructed stereotypes of drivers your age.

Your children should make an intervention for all of us, and take away your license and your keys.


-Jared

<---- The biggest thing you should drive.

An open letter to a washed up celebrity.

Washed up celebrity seems harsh for the guy I'm gonna write this to. Andy Sturmer was the drummer and lead singer (interesting combination) of Jellyfish, a pop band that was briefly popular in the early 90's. Their 2nd full length album, Spilt Milk is one of my favorite recordings.

Andy,

I know most of the people reading this have no idea who you are. In fact, I'm not totally sure why I chose to write an open letter to you, which you'll almost assuredly never read. But I want to say thanks for some great music. As a recording engineer, I'm still finding inspiration in Spilt Milk. Most people credit Jack Joseph Puig pretty heavily for the sound and production value of that album, and while I'm sure it bears much of his genius, I know enough about the process to know that a producer or engineer can only reach amazing places with amazing musicians in front of the mics. Whenever I am given leave to get away with it, I still like to hard pan the toms like they are on Jellyfish records.

I've long admired your tastefulness as a drummer, I always like to point out to engineers, the drum sounds in That Is Why. They're usually impressed with both the sounds and the playing, and almost always comment on the great fill work in the pauses.

As a singer, I admire the power and personality of your voice. From playful songs like New Mistake or Brighter Day, to what are obviously more personal songs like The Man I Used To Be, He's My Best Friend, or Russian Hill, you always gave such a compelling vocal performance. I Wanna Stay Home is one of my favorite vocals ever. I actually have cried a few times before, when it comes to the bridge and that incredibly creative harmony comes in... "Well, I realize the weight that's firmly on my shoulders. I just try and find a place I can take a walk on my blind side."

I've kept up with your career as much as possible. I got a kick out of your work with PuffiAmiYumi and a bunch of your soundtrack and theme song work. But I always wanted to hear that vocal again, as more than a backup singer. When I bought L.E.O.'s Alpacas Orgling, I had no idea you were involved in the project. When I heard your voice come in on the second verse of Goodbye Innocence I yelled out loud, "Holy crap, I think that's Andy Sturmer!" It was so good to hear your voice again. I kept hoping you were featured somewhere else on the album, but was disappointed in that hope.

I get the impression you like to live behind the scenes nowadays and not make too big of a splash... It probably doesn't help that everyone who loves your work are continually clamoring for a Jellyfish reunion. I loved Jellyfish, but I don't really care if I ever get to see them play again, I have the records and will probably never get tired of listening to them, but I want to hear more you. Please, share the songs I know you're still writing. I'll even let you hole up in my studio for a few weeks and lay stuff down. The world of music needs more great songs, and you've written some of my favorites.

An open letter to my brother.

Brian,

How you doing? We don't talk or see each other as much as I'd like. I live in Boston. My bad. I'm glad you're spending your last summer at the Y doing EFY. I loved EFY when I went and everybody told me I would have been a great counselor, but my audio jobs on campus always paid so much better, that it never made sense to do it. A couple of people you've known through EFY have moved to Boston though, and they pretty much universally assent to what I've always asserted... You're awesome, just like your big brother. Haha!

I loved being at the Y with you, even for a short time. I love that we both served in the Southern States. I love that we have the same sense of humor. Your trip to Boston and our brief jaunt to NYC is one of my favorite memories in the last 4 years I've lived here.

For all the ways we're the same, there's just as many ways that we are not at all the same. And I like those too.

I hope you don't worry to much about dumb girls who can't make up their minds. It took me way to damn long to learn the lesson that, if they can't make up their mind about wanting to be with you, they simply don't want to be with you enough. Trust me, it's better to know. Better to know that they know. There's an amazing girl looking for you that you just simply haven't run into yet. You will. God wants it for you too much to let it wait forever. Don't let Dad pester you, he just wants grandbabies.

Love you, bro.

J


D-D-Dirty South.

An open letter to my parents.

Hey Mom, Hey Dad,

I think I could probably say a good deal more to you in a closed letter than an open one, but if there's something I'd want the internet world to know (at least the very small slice of it that reads this blog), it would be that while you guys were not always the parents I wanted, you were the exact parents I needed. I think all kids identify ways in which they want to live or parent differently from their own folks, and I'm no exception, but there are a lot of things you did particularly well.

While I had my own crises of faith, I always knew about your faith. I knew you were both deeply committed to the church and the gospel. I knew you were committed to each other. And I've seen enough of broken families out in this world to know, how important knowing that is to a kid. Your testimony helped me want to find my own.

Mom, you were always there for me. You cared about how I felt. It mattered to you that I had good friends. I knew you worried about me when I struggled to connect with other kids. I knew you prayed for me to find the people I could be myself with. I know you've prayed for me my whole life. When I have thoughts of giving up or letting life have its ruddy way with me, I only have to think of what you might be asking God for in my behalf. I learned you were a very intelligent woman. You chose to be at home with your kids, but you could have succeeded at many, many things. We're all grateful you chose to be with us. I look at my sisters and know they knew that about you too.

Dad, we've found a good place. You haven't always understood me, but I feel like you've always wanted to. I learned a lot about hard work and honor from you. I learned about duty and the importance of caring for others home teaching with you. I learned a lot about you through the letters you wrote me on my mission. That was hugely important to me. It was to Brian as well. I admire the way you work tirelessly. I admire the way you've dialed it back in recent years to serve in the church and spend more time with Mom. I will always be grateful for the college education you helped me acquire and the help in my career in the form of a Mac (which survived for 9 years) and my first Pro Tools system.

I think you both tend to focus sometimes on where you think to have failed us, but as far as I'm concerned, I think you turned out really great parents. I love you both very much. That is why I tease.

Love, J.


Long live the clan.

An open letter to my "crush".

Or my girlfriend, as it were.

Baby,

You're one of the most pleasant surprises I've ever had. I don't know about you, but I think we're pretty freaking great together. Yay us!

I haven't seen you much this week, which, while it kinda sucks, always has a way of making me appreciate you more. This probably sounds kinda trite or stupid to third parties, I suppose, but I really think you're awesome. Thanks for recognizing my own significant awesomeness and enhancing it.


Love, J.

An open letter to my best friend.

Who this is has always been a little up in the air...

It was Tyler growing up.
It was Brendan when nobody else liked me.
It was Mark in High School.
It was Jimmy on my mission.
It was Adam in college.
Then Jason.
Yancy in New York.
Ben in Boston.

All in all I think I most often say Jason. Way to curb the rest of the pack, bro.

J-

Thanks for always being such a great friend to me. In the particular time that I met you, I wasn't aware how much I would need a new friend. It wasn't long after we met though, that I realized we were almost more like brothers than friends. Whenever people ask how we met we relate a dorky story about a KBYU pledge drive and how you grew up in Washington with Death Cab for Cutie and I grew up in Phoenix with Jimmy Eat World, and how we both totally loved We Have The Facts and We're Voting Yes and Clarity and listened to them all the time. And it was audiogeek love at first sound.

But while that's a fun story, I've realized that in friendship, (as with Love) common interests matter a lot less than we initially think. You quickly proved to have the quality I most admire and most strive for in my own relationships... loyalty. Your friendship was never conditional on anything. I'm a bit of a sinner. I struggle with a lot of things that other people find easier. Toward the end of my 3rd year at BYU I had my first "encounter" with depression. That was a tough adjustment for me and for most of the people I called my friends. All of my relationships changed somewhat. With Adam. With Emily. With Jen. I don't think anything really changed with us though. You were supportive and kind as you always had been and I never felt any undue judgement when you gave advice. I felt like you knew who I really was and you expressed almost effortlessly that I shouldn't settle for being less than that. When I left Provo for New York, there was a lot of things I missed and a lot of things I didn't. You and Adam topped the list of people I missed profoundly. When I came to Boston I made a lot of really good friends in a hurry. It was weird. I was riding some kind of high from doing something scary and unprecedented and simultaneously knowing it was the right thing for me to do. Boston was now my home and I was having a lot of success in making it so. For better or for worse, living in Boston changed most of my other friendships. I'm not as close with most of my friends back West as I used to be. I've been out of their lives for so long.

I knew you were going through a rough patch at home, when you came out to Boston for a vacation... in December. But aren't you glad you did... I count it one of the greatest moments of my life when I saw you and Pugs at Average Joe's and realized, "Holy crap... they might actually be totally perfect for each other!" You were. It was a high for me to attend your sealing, and I totally love you kids to pieces. You're the best couple I've ever known. I miss you all the time.

One more thing. Thanks for helping me pull my head out of another part of me enough to see what trying to be with Annie was doing to me. You never told me she was crap for me (even though she was), you just pointed me back to my self. Once I started seeing me again, it became clear that we were just plain meant for other people. A relationship takes work anyway and that one would have been an awful lot more work to save than to just cut our losses. At this distance, hindsight is better than 20-20 and I see perfectly that it wasn't much of a loss for either of us to go forward and find someone else.

I regularly wish you were here to rock out with, to work on recording projects with, to dance to Canned Heat with, and just talk to. Thanks for your friendship. It means a tremendous amount to me and I freaking love ya, brother. Rock, rock on.


Yes cup.

New Blog Project: An open letter to...

I'm not gonna commit to this every day for 30 days, because I suck at commitments, but I like this "Open Letters" idea. I modified many of them to suit who I'd actually like to write letters to. Or at least the people who would be interesting to write to.

Day 1 — Your Best Friend-
Day 2 — Your Crush-
Day 3 — Your parents-
Day 4 —Your sibling (or closest relative)-
Day 5 — A washed up celebrity-
Day 6 — A stranger-
Day 7 — An Ex-boyfriend/girlfriend/love/crush-
Day 8 — Your favorite internet friend-
Day 9 — Someone you wish you could meet-
Day 10 — Someone you don’t talk to as much as you’d like to-

Day 11 — A Deceased person you wish you could talk to-
Day 12 — A person who helped you develop professionally-

Day 13 — Someone you wish could forgive you-
Day 14 — Someone you’ve drifted away from-
Day 15 — The person you miss the most-
Day 16 — Someone that’s not in your state-
Day 17 — Someone from your childhood-

Day 18 — The person that you wish you could be-
Day 19 — Someone that you think about a lot—good or bad-

Day 20 — The one that broke your heart the hardest-

Day 21 — Someone you judged by their first impression-

Day 22 — Someone you want to think you're awesome-

Day 23 — The last person you kissed-

Day 24 — The person that gave you your favorite memory-
Day 25 — The person you'd like to see right now-
Day 26 — A person you want to be there for-
Day 27 — A person who changed your life for the better-

Day 28 — Someone that changed your life-
Day 29 — The person whose art has most touched you-

Day 30 — Your reflection in the mirror-