An open letter to someone you just can't handle right now...

Dear NPR Music,

You used to be so great. Subscribing to your RSS feed helped me keep up on new music, see tiny desk concerts, and occasionally discover new artists. But you currently have some BIG problems with your feed.

First, repeats. I got 8 posts of the same exact story on the new Bright Eyes record. I know Connor Oberst gives you all kinds of grown up feelings in your pants, but come on. I saw it already. 7 times too many. Then they had the nerve to play on World Cafe a show who duplicates every feed item. So there was Bright Eyes two more times, and me, still not interested.

Second. Hipster central. Do you guys ever cover mainstream music besides Lady Gaga? I love indie rock. I own an independent studio/record label for goodness sake! But come on, it's like the "must have a strange beard" parade. I feel like I'm at the Newport festival every time I sign on to my reader.

Third. The jazz and classical beats are prolific. I love jazz, but I honestly can't handle the sheer volume of stories about obscure jazz players I've never heard of WITH NO ACCOMPANYING AUDIO. If you're gonna write a story about this one clarinetist who died in 1962 and tell me why he was so pivotal, let me listen to some pivotal recordings. Classical is similarly out of hand with the no-sound music journalism. The worst is the W.W.B.D. series. I don't care what Beethoven would like on the internet this week. I don't even care what music he'd dig (he was deaf). Also, YOU DON"T EVEN KNOW, so stop writing articles about it every week. That series sucks, and it doesn't ever seem to get more interesting.

Fourth. Sheer mass. You need weight loss. Heaven knows I support and love public broadcasting, but I'm the kind of person who opens my reader once a week. I subscribe to not a small number of feeds, but without fail, NPR music is responsible for 65-80% of the content. Which brings me to my biggest complaint.

Fifth. All or none. You have ONE, count em, ONE feed for articles. Even if I subscribe on All Songs Considered's page, I get the full NPR music feed. I could subscribe to just tiny desk for concerts, but once in a very great while, World Cafe or the NPR studios have something I'd like to see.

It's enough to make a music lover unsubscribe, which is I guess what this has come to. I'm sorry, I think we should see other people. And it is YOU, not me.

Jared

An open letter to the person who gave me my favorite memory...

While this is probably also Danielle, I'm gonna choose a different memory.

Dear Anne-Kate,

I will always remember the night Elder Maxfield and I came home at the end of an exhausting day, ending an even more taxing week of the most difficult and disappointing kind of missionary work, to your voice on our answering machine.

We'd been "flushed into" an area where the prior missionaries had not been doing a whole lot of work (hence they were flushed out). I was a new zone leader, training a brand new missionary, and doing absurd full days of tracting to try and get just a few investigators in a fairly wealthy area of Birmingham where most people would sooner talk to their living room wall than to us.

Dinner that night had even been disappointing. I was served fish. Not deep fried catfish or something I could stomach, something freshwater with the head and scales still on it. I made it through dinner and our short member visit and got on my bike, but it wasn't more than a few hundred feet before I was prostrate and vomiting the whole mess into somebody's bushes.

When we got home and checked the answering machine, the first call was from our only promising investigator who had just been given a heaping dose of anti-mormon literature. He had called us to say he didn't want to visit with us any more. Then your voice came on and you said, "I've read the Book of Mormon, the Doctrine and Covenants, and the Pearl of Great Price and I believe everything and I'm ready to be baptized. Please let me know how soon we could do that."

Our mouths about hit the floor.

I think you probably feel like I'm the one who helps you to continue to believe, but I assure you, your call gave me a significant faith in the promises God had made me. Nothing I could do was giving us someone to teach. Then God gave us someone to baptize. And not just someone. One of my best friends in life, and a woman who taught me a tremendous amount about compassion and fairness and love.

May God always bless you with what you need and reward your diligent search for truth with understanding. May he bless you and Greg with health and strength and grace.

Worlds without end.
Allahu akbar.

Love, Elder Mooney.

Not an open letter...

By the way, in case you missed it somehow in that last post, I'm engaged to be married.

An open letter to the last person you kissed...

Hey Baby,

Great job moving from crush to fiancee in just a few short letters. Ok, so I’ve written them at a snail’s pace... I would have blogged more often but I was busy hanging out with you.

What can I say in an open letter about the person I love most in the whole world without sounding super mushy gross-face? Well, how about that you have saved my life? Because this is not too much of a stretch. If I had to guess how my life would have gone this last year if I had not met you, my guess would be kinda scary. Instead it has been day after day of unbelievable love, support, and affection. I love you so much. I think the world of you. You’re my best.



And now we get to be roommates!

Love Always, Jared

P.S. Happy New Year. "It's Friday, I'm in Love."

An open letter to someone you want to think you’re awesome...

Hey neices and nephews,

Why would your uncle Jared, who is awesome, and has never cared who does or doesn’t think it’s true, care that you think he’s awesome?

Well, I guess that’s just the way of things. I think all your aunts and uncles want you to like them. You’re like our surrogate kids, with all the benefits of offspring and none of the responsibilities. We don’t have to raise you, we just get to play with you and see who you grow up to be. I want you to always think your uncle Jared is awesome, whether he gets a job at LucasArts or not, whether his girlffriend brings you cool stuff from India or not. Eventually you grow up enough to learn we’re just as flawed and fallible as your parents, if not more, but while you’re young we just all want to be your favorite.





I know you’ll all grow up to do amazing things and be amazing people. Just don’t grow up to quickly.

Love, Uncle Jared.

An open letter to someone I judged by my first impression...

Dear Ben,

This should come as no surprise. I’ve often told you how my first impression of you was totally wrong... I thought you were kind of a minor league douchebag. That was a pretty off-the-mark first impression, since we became awesome friends in Boston and lived together for better than 2 years.

You rock. I miss living in the same place. I always played more because I lived with you, cause you always wanted to jam when we were both home. Hope things continue to kick butt for you with school and jobs and life... You’re missed out in Boston by many, many people.

Jared



“No Evie, I don’t know who buried your car in snow.”
(Dead pan face, snow shovel in hand)

“Wouldn’t wanna be kept away, just for the day, from your BAAHHHDEYYYYY.”

An open letter to the person who broke your heart the hardest...

Dear _____,

You’re a _____ ______.

Love, Jared


Choose your own adventure style...
I'll do this one for real, but later...
You gotta kinda be in the right frame of mind to do this properly.

An open letter to someone who pesters my mind...

Dear Connor Oberst,

I don’t know why exactly everyone loves your music. It still sounds pretentious and out of tune to me. Everyone tells me I’ll like it eventually, if I just keep giving it a shot. I’ve listened to all your albums several times. Eh...



Sorry, I tried.

Jared

An open letter to someone I wish I could be...

Brian,

Thank you for writing and recording some of the most beautiful music of all time. Thank you for demonstrating how transcendent pop music can be if given thought. Thanks for God Only Knows, In My Room, Surfer Girl, and Don’t Worry Baby. Thank you for finishing "Smile". Thanks for Heroes and Villains, Surf’s Up and Good Vibrations. Thanks for "Lucky Old Sun", and for reimagining Gershwin. Thanks for Caroline, No. Thank you always for "Pet Sounds".

I have long admired your handy work. Even before I could appreciate the significance of what you did on a technical level (in the face of significant technical limitations), I could appreciate it on a creative one. You broke with conventions and proved that rock n’ roll can and should, actually, have no conventions. You made miraculous textures of sound that continue to elude me as a producer and engineer.

Your genius stills inspires me, your big heart still impresses me, and your voice can still move me to tears. Thank you Mr. Wilson.


I may not always love you,
but long as there are stars above you,
you'll never need to doubt it,
I'll make you so sure about it.
God only knows what I'd be without you.

An open letter to Santa Claus...

I decided to sub this one out with my Christmas list. I always have stuff on my Christmas list that's specialized studio stuff and hard to explain. I joke that everything costs more than $1000, so it's hard to make a real Christmas list. While that's true, there are a lot of expensive pieces of equipment, there's always littler stuff too.

AES/EBU Breakout Cable for Octopre

Lynx AES/EBU Cable

Hosa AES/EBU DB25-XLR Cable

Auralex Diffusion Panels

Multi-Format Digital Output Card for Octopre

And a couple of the ones no one could possibly afford, just for fun.

Universal Audio 4-710d

Malone Design Works MC Desk

And if you wanted a personal slave for the rest of your life, you could buy me this.

I know, I'm not normal. Here's some normal person stuff...

Okay Computer on vinyl.
Lateralus on vinyl.
Foo Fighter's Greatest Hits on vinyl.
Black Holes & Revelations on vinyl.
The Unforgettable Fire on vinyl.
What's Going On on vinyl.

I know, even my normal isn't normal. Who listens to wax?

An open letter to someone out of state...

Hey Kirsti,

You're actually living in Utah now, which is totally bizarre considering you've been "my friend in the Virgin Islands", "my friend who's going to Bangladesh", "my friend in L.A.", etc, etc.

One has to envy you're life of moving and shaking... nurse on the run. I have to wonder how permanent Utah is gonna turn out to be. I actually met you there. When we met later in Boston, it took an awful long time to figure out how we knew each other. I recognized your name, first and last and I knew we had talked at length, but it was truly bizarre how I could not place where we met. But we finally realized it was at the Riviera in 2001. I was our Bishop's executive secretary and because his interviews ran perpetually over-time we'd had at least one lengthy conversation.

I'm glad we became better friends over time out here. I have an extra sense of appreciation for my friends who think and live outside the box of being a Mormon. In some ways, I think they're the most Mormon people I know; because they don't identify that way, they just live their lives and the let part of them that's LDS manifest itself. I wish I could explain better what I mean, but I've always been attracted to Mormons who exist well outside the stereotypes of what Mormons are like.

I also appreciate our friendship, because I've always felt like we communicate well. When I was all weird and messed up after Annie, you helped me get things in better perspective. I don't know how many friends told me she was bad for me... lots, actually. But it made a lot of sense when you said it. It helped me wake up a bit, and see that I had a lot of positive things to offer that she never saw. Remember that time you were gallivanting in South America and I wrote you emails every week? I was glad I did that. It was good to be writing, more than anything, but I think we became even better buds because of it.

Anyway, you're missed by me, uncommonly. I hope the job and life are great in Salt Lake. I'll have to come see you soon.



Love, Jared

"I always thought Dave was hearing impaired... Turns out he's just an a$$hole."

"I am not a benevolent God."

An open letter to the person I miss the most...

It's hard to really nail this down, for sure, but the person I probably think this the most about is Adam... who incidentally, is one of the people who would least appreciate the anxiety associated with an open letter. I'll take it easy...

Do you remember that one day we were sitting on the ugly brown vinyl couches in our living room, you on one, me on the other and I was aimlessly bouncing a plastic ball off of the wall? Then it suddenly took a bizarre deflection and bounced of two things then came right for you and you just casually leaned forward and head-butted it without changing the expression on your face. We just looked at each other and smiled, like, "Oh yeah, that just went down."

There was also that time we were both telling Jemily how much my new DI lamp resembled a hookah bong. They were both saying it sort of did, but that wasn't the first thing they'd think of, and hardly an automatic reaction to seeing it. Just then Pace opened the door looking for Jason and you said, "Pace, what's the first thing you think of when you look at this lamp?" And he immediately said, "bong" without even thinking.

Anytime I was restless at 2 in the morning, you were not only up, but up for a middle of the night headphone-walk around South Provo. Or a Del-Taco trip. Or a bad horror movie. Or a drive up the canyon. You made Deadlocked a fun band to be in, because you were the one everybody liked. We danced to Canned Heat with Jason on days we didn't have anything to be up for and then went right back to sleep without a word. We road-tripped to effing Oregon with half the band and an OCD engineer we couldn't keep focused on a mix. We stayed awake practically the whole time.

We threw a heavy-ass tube organ in the river.

Miss the good times and the good company. I would seriously pay for you to live in the same place as me at all times if I could.



Yes, yes, y'all.
I kiss br***ts y'all.

Adam's behind me isn't he?
He's humping, isn't he?

P.S. I have like no pictures of you.

An open letter to someone I've drifted away from...

Hey Julie,

(Look what they're doin to me.) Sorry, I still always here that song when I say that. "Drifted away?" Yeah, kinda. Which, by the way is like 212% my bad.

Remember that time you came to Boston to get married and my stupid work had me in the whole damn weekend? Yeah... I've been pretty bad about the whole contact thing. You're not the only one, but you might be the most neglected friend I have. Which is kind of lame, cause remember how awesome we were? Geez, I think people probably needed to dry clean the awesome out of their clothes after hanging out with us.

Did you know that your house was the first place I tried driving to without a map in Boston? And I only got crazy lost once. Anyway, not much to this letter. Just an apology for being incommunitado for so long. Let's chat soon and next time we're in the same state we have to hang, even if I have to quit my job (which I've become adept at of late, actually).



Miss your ruddy guts.

Mooney

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.

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