An open letter to someone I wish could forgive me...

Maybe she already has. Mostly background... Then some letter.

Katie was a sweet girl. And pretty rad. She was so cool, in fact, that I thought she was far too cool for me. (Which is crazy, cause I'm awesome, right?) Katie had such a cute face, with blonde hair in a rad little boy haircut and big eyes. She was hot, and sneakily funny... Like it wasn't immediately apparent but I think anybody who knew her was aware how side-splittingly hilarious she could be. I wasn't her home teacher, but I went with my roommate once to her house to home teach her. There was some moment where everyone paused in silence and she meowed. Like a cat. After we stopped laughing, we asked for an explanation, and she said every 4 minutes there's an awkward moment somewhere in the world and every 4 minutes a cat dies. While I doubt if this phenomenon is accurate, the decision to respond to awkward silences by meowing was pretty funny.

So, Katie and I were friends... kind of. We would say hi at church and stuff, and while I'm sure I flirted the whole time I knew her, it wasn't till right after she announced her mission call that she showed any real interest in me. I was understandably conflicted and yet not altogether unpleased. She was, of course, cute and rad. We didn't go on any dates, we just hung out and talked a couple times. Then she disappeared for a couple weeks and came by my house the night before she left for the MTC. She sat on my stairs and laid her head down on my chest. We didn't really talk much.

The next day she was gone. While she was, I wrote her letters. She went to Mississippi, which was dear to my heart, as 5 months of my own mission were spent in the Magnolia State. We grew very close through writing letters back and forth. And while we never even really got romantic in our correspondence, I realized that letters have a peculiar kind of intimacy. When she came home I was in AZ getting ready for my big move to Boston. I called her house to welcome her back and tell her I'd be in Utah in a few days to pick up some stuff, and that I'd like to see her. There was a lot of strange anticipation and nerves for me as we'd never really defined our expectations. We had certainly become quite close over the year and a half she was gone, but I was about to be moving 2000 miles away and we'd never even dated. I was hanging out with Adam (who also wanted to see her) when I picked her up. She seemed unusually well adjusted for a girl right off her mission. We had a pretty fun few hours hanging out and when the two of us were driving back to her house I explained that I was gonna hang out with Jason the next day and then take off for Boston. She asked me if I would call her before I took off so she could say goodbye. I agreed, and when we got out of the car she just kinda full on kissed me. I was stunned, but like I said, cute and awesome, so I kissed her back (although I'm not sure how well, as all I could think was, "Uhhhhh, what the crap is happening?"). After a similarly awkward hug (I'm a huge nerf), I said goodnight. Then I did the dumbest thing ever. I posted about it on my blog.

I called her the next day just to say I was already leaving town on her answering machine. And never called her again.

I've never before or since been such a huge douchebag.

Now a letter...

Dear Katie,

I'm a putz. I wish I could say you were the only monumental screw-up I have on my record, but that would be a lie.

True, we never talked about getting serious with each other, but we tore down a lot of walls through our letters and developed an intimacy that I should have had a greater respect for, even if I didn't wholly understand what it meant to you. The retarded thing is that I really liked you a lot. I wanted to see what we could be, but I let my whole Boston move and that kiss that felt like it came out of nowhere (that demanded some commitment of me) to scare the ever-loving crap out of me.

I did the most gutless thing ever. I made light of it (possibly even ridiculed it) on the freaking internet. And I dropped a courtesy call to say I was already gone. I shudder when I think of what a tremendous tool that makes me. I have derided so many guys for lesser shenanigans perpetrated against my girl friends. My only saving grace is that I realize that makes me a tool. I've wished I'd been ready and could have given you a real kiss. I've wished I would have called you and explained why I was so taken back and talked about it. I wish now I would have at least told you why I was so confused and scared and let you explain your affection. I had time for all those things. I lacked guts.

I'm sorry from the bottom of my heart for how I'm sure I made you feel. I can't believe I blogged that $#!+. I can't believe I never called you again. You were so deeply a part of my life. Your letters had been a light in my life that had been pretty dark while you were gone (for reasons that had nothing to do with you). You helped me understand and feel better about my depression and the need to medicate for it. You shared deeply personal things from your own life with me. I treated it all like crap and treated you worse. This is easily the worst thing I've ever done to someone I called my friend.

If you could ever forgive me I'd be so grateful, even if we can never have the same relationship we had before. I hope God has blessed you with great things and a happy life. I hope he always will.

Love, Jared.

Holy crap, I found a picture of you on google.
I won't post it though. I try not to use the internet for evil anymore.
You're still a hottie.
No offense to my current girlfriend, who is the most hot.
Ok, I'm done.
For reals.

An open letter to someone who helped me develop professionally...

Hey Anthony,

Thanks for everything you did to help me get better at recording music. I really enjoyed so much of my time Avatar. The biggest thing I gained from my internship was confidence. I learned a ton, for sure, about mic placement, the various consoles, large session setups, and major-level analog recording... but these were all things a had at least a little under my belt. You were always eager for me to show you what I had, and you helped me feel like I had real strengths as a recording engineer and not just "adequate" skills. I'm glad you made me shadow Tio for a week too. While that was easily the most boring week I spent at Avatar, I learned a lot that is beginning to help me now as, God help me, I have become the studio manager.

Thanks for not using me as a runner or a coffee maker, but as an assistant. Thanks for inviting me to so many cool sessions. Billy Joel, Willie Nelson, and for including me heavily on Brand New's record. That was the treat of a lifetime and other engineers still ask me all about it. You did a fantastic job on the faders by the way. I thought Fred squashed it a bit too much, but that's just me.

So yeah, in short... Thanks.

An open letter to my grandpa,

Hey Grandpa,

I want to thank you for the things you taught me.

You taught me how to shoot. If you remember, at first I couldn't hit anything. But rather than be painfully embarrassed that your grandson had like zero skill for marksmanship, you paid attention to how I was setting up and where I was missing, and you discovered that while I was right-handed, I was also left eye dominant. I can only wink my right eye, and so instead of getting a straight perspective down the sights, I was getting the wrong side of the stereo image, instead of a focused, mono image. You asked me to try shooting with both eyes open and then to try shooting left-handed. As soon as I set up left handed I started hitting everything I took aim at. It sounds kinda sad when I say it now, because I think I have lots of talents, but that was one of the first times in my life I felt like I was good at something. My experiences at school had been kind of hard that year and one of the things that was hardest was that I didn't feel good at anything. I sucked at football, basketball, kickball, and tetherball. I was being sent to "resource" (remedial math) with the retarded kids and seeing a shrink. A little success felt pretty freaking great at that point.

You taught me how to drive stick... the first time. My dad had to teach me again later, and I remember he was a somewhat less-effective, certainly less patient teacher. I loved driving around in the forest behind your property. When I got the truck stuck once, you didn't get upset at all. Instead, you said, "Let me teach you how to lock the hubs and use four wheel drive!" I never felt intimidated to learn new things, because I knew you would show me how to succeed at them. You taught me how to reload ammunition, use a lathe and a drill press, patch leaks in a rowboat, dig a trench, till a garden, grow tomatoes, cut firewood, weld, rig a tow hitch, and frame a building.

You taught me a lot indirectly too... I learned about being a good and loyal friend, respecting women, keeping good humor, being trustworthy and honest, and how to love the world around me. I learned that from watching you. I grew to love the things you loved. You loved music, poems, and stories. You loved dogs, and fishing, and shooting, and kids. You loved nature. You loved to create things with your hands. You loved hard-earned exhaustion.

I know why Grandma loved you so much. I mean, I saw you maybe 8 times a year and spent one summer living in your basement, and you were by far one of the biggest influences for good in my life. I loved you sooooo much. Grandma not only got to be with you all the time, she was your best friend. You were lucky to have her too, for the record, but I know you knew that because of how you treated her. Thank you for teaching me the most important thing there was for me to learn... how to be a really good man. I'm a slow learner, for sure, but I never forget the example you set for me. You're the person, on the other side of mortality, that I miss the most. The children of the stepchildren of a man's second marriage don't always get to have a very close relationship with him... Lewis, thank you so much for being my Grandpa.

Love, Jared.

A.O.