Another update in the same day, wha?!

Okay, so, I'm updating again. Why?

I got a LETTER!

But not just ANY letter.

A letter from Italy!

From Stanfield!

Anyway, the letter is awesome. The envelope also radiates win.

Here, for your amusement, is the letter:

It's dark, and that light behind me isn't my window. It's my bathroom. 

I had no blinds open and I resemble a hobo.

But I'm okay with it.

BECAUSE I'M HAPPY!

I've never gotten an overseas letter before, let alone one from ITALY. So this is new.

Day 5 - A Letter To Your Dreams

OH MY GOSH NO WAYS WE'RE BACK TO THIS? YES. YES WE ARE.

Dreams,

I’m fairly sure you’re the stuff of insanity. I’m sitting in a lecture at the moment, trying to make you all possible. You probably don’t realise it (or don’t care), but you’re not making yourselves easy to catch, are you? 4 or 5 years of study, then beginning from the bottom. That’s the way I must start.

Anyway, I find it sort of intriguing that you have been here for quite some time, but only recently I’ve come to realise how to make you come to life. I like how this is happening. Paths are coming and this is... well, new. After 12 years of being stuck in school, actually having options where I can get on a plane and go to Melbourne, if I need to, is brilliant. That if I’m curled up in bed all day, no one cares. Google has become our unwilling slave, unless we’re now slaves to Google’s yellow brick road of fancies and dreams. Either way, Google is awesome, because now we’re sitting here going, “Oh my gosh, I can be a journalist or an editor or get into publishing or blog foreverrrrrr (though I doubt I can get money off that).” There’s so many options and so much I can use for God, and thus, dreams, you’re brilliant.

Anyway, a little note to you.

Kind regards.

Day 4 - A Letter to Your Sibling

Dear Kidface,
So I cheated. I wrote a letter to you beforehand. I'd thought to myself, "Well! Aren't I just clever, I'll copy and paste and no one will be aware, except for Kathryn, who is clued in on my plans!"
Well, I didn't consider that I'd have this lovely new addition to the fam, and that I'd have to copy all my documents onto Stanley and then I'd have to hunt through. I mean, I kidnapped the hard drive (yeah, bad me) but I haven't bothered to get technologically consolidated and whatnot.
Be that as it may, a letter.

I've realised as of late that I'm going to seriously miss you next year. This is if our grand plans go ahead and we participate in our fleeing the current unit, one lounge under an arm and a TV under the other, to new places.
I mean, even when you sit next to Stanley and I and continually beg, "Can I use it? Can I use it? Can I use it?" (which, to let you know, Stanley does not like being referred to as an 'it'), it's still vaguely amusing. I particularly enjoy the musings which are aloud but make no sense once outside your head:

So it's like my Jiminy Cricket. I like Jiminy Cricket. But I wasn't a huge fan of the movie. What's it called? Pinocchio. 

How weird would I look with no pinky?

 And then your striding in with an excited plan which to yet has not come into fruition:

Right, Tash, here's what we're going to do.

And your going along with random things I find, via Google.

Really? That's weird. I am a little teapot. Short and stout. Here is my handle, here is my spout.

 The gist and nub of it is, you are a grand brother.
Although it'd be really nice if you got over the delusion that I'm going to a nunnery. As I do not particularly adhere to one denomination of Christianity, but rather the faith as a whole, it's a little difficult to do such a thing. Also, I'm not sure if you knew this, but I'm a fan of the outside world. As much as you don't see me leave the house, I do like knowing that I can, if I so choose.
I think it is your turn to call the real estate, because I really don't want to.
Buy those Whitlams tickets, please, I want to see them play their shenanigans.
And thank you for allowing me to Potterly rant to you. It's odd that you allow my tone of authority that I usually reserve for Shakespearean/poetic knowledge to exist amongst my Potter educating. If only you allowed the Beatles.
Shrankye for having such a... caring attitude towards my death. That I will be tossed in a river is a comfort. It is also a comfort knowing that I am so looked after in regards to my virtue, per se. Your acceptance of lewd comments made towards me (though not really lewd, but still) simply because it was 'a good call' is nothing short of brotherly love, and I am pleased you care.

That last paragraph, yes, my sarcasm hand was raised, but I still love you for it.

Love your youngest and only sister,
yeah, that one who'd be homeless were it not for you.

Day 3 - A Letter To Your Parents (blog post 1/2)

Queridos Mama y Papi
I’m not going to write this in Spanish, primarily because you both understand English and I want Mama to understand this letter. Also, my Spanish is okay, but not letter-worthy.
Mama: as much as you fret you have made me cynical, don’t stress. If you hadn’t made me who I am, I’d be less content with, and less sure of, myself. And as your daughter I know that I’ve got some pretty strong genes in me that are going to carry me through whatever happens as you did – head high and sticking to convictions. I love you immensely, and I miss you often. And also, thank you for teaching me that it’s completely okay to be who I want to be, and thank you for giving me every opportunity to talk with you about anything. Be it God, or life, or angst, you’re there.
Papi: I listen to Silvio Rodriguez and think of you playing guitar; I listen to Crowded House and think of you giving me my first tape; I listen to the Beatles and think of you and I walking home from Gemma’s house, singing I’ve Just Seen A Face and Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds at the top of our lungs even though it was midnight; I listen to Ben Lee in angst form and think of you telling me about the first metaphor I knowingly encountered. I can chart my life through music and you’re at every point. Even though we’ve fought a whole lot, and still clash at times now, I guess I realise I understand more where you’re coming from. Te quiero mucho.

With every inch of love that I can possibly express,
I love you guys,
You made my childhood and my now adulthood unique, interesting, and perfect through all those  imperfections.

Day 2 - A Letter To Your Crush

Hi there, crush.
 
So this is an awkward letter, mainly because I don’t actually want you to see it. Who knew? I value privacy and not being embarrassed. It may not seem that way... but I digress.
 
I still cannot figure out why I have a crush on you, but that’s life for you.
 
I also would really like to stop thinking about you, as it would be best for us both. In terms of my mental health and whatnot.
 
I have very little else to say, but I hope life progresses dandily for you, and I will strenuously turn my attentions elsewhere.
 
[salutes] Goodbye, and good luck.

Note: It's pretty much Wednesday.

Please wish me luck, I have an interview tomorrow!

Day 1: A Letter To Your Best Friend

Kathryn -
Hello there. I think you're probably asleep because you have a normal body clock. But here is a letter nevertheless.
Firstly, I hope you're getting better. Being sick is lame, and it makes me sad for you. I'm very happy, however, that you got to flee the hospital. And as I said in a previously composed letter accompanying a shoebox, we're going to go to Glastonbury and eat pie.
Secondly, please get a Robin Reliant, because the world needs more 19 year olds driving three wheeled cars in an attempt to channel Mr Bean. If not, I vote a yellow car so you can always win at Spotto.
Thirdly, and I'm not sure why I'm essaying this, but thirdly. You are quite possibly one of the greatest friends I've ever had. Quite possibly? You are, and I am very very blessed to have you around. There are few who accept this 156cm of oddities. You are one of them, and you go the extra mile and be insane with me. And also, you are very non-judgmental which I am ever thankful for. 3 years to go and we go out on the town wearing sombreros and singing fiesta songs like the Mexicans we are. Or something.
At 2:57am, from insomnia, a letter to my best friend, and "Seamus'" future godmother,
Love from me.
(P.S. I can get rid of the photo if you want. I would put up the one where you're holding a Quasimodo reptile of sorts and I have a snake burrowing into my hair, but my grandma is the only one with a copy of that. Also, we were only youngsters.)