Dear America,

All I have are words, but they can be powerful when used purposefully.

America, we will get through this.

As humans, we are not without flaws, but some of us have been gifted with the ability to distinguish between right and wrong. I know in my heart that Goodness will eventually prevail. I, and so many other Americans, have finally and reluctantly come face to face with the insidious epidemic in society—close-minded bigotry. I wouldn’t even call it “hate.” These people you call hateful don’t know what they’re doing. They don’t realize that they are part of the greater issue—the systemic issue. They don’t realize that what they believe encourages evil. How can we blame them?

Don’t get me wrong. I’m angry. I WANT to blame them.

But, as I sit at my work desk, listening to the piano music of Helen Jane Long, I can’t help but feel some amount of hope for a country as broken as ours this morning.

If Hillary had won the Presidency, I would have never understood just how much work needs to be done here. I would have never resolved to take a more self-accountable role moving forward. I would have never looked ahead and considered how I, alone, could make a difference. Now, I know I can and SHOULD. I HAVE to. If I want to see change, I have to BE that change. I have to MAKE that change. It’s simple.

I walk away from this election enlightened. Disappointed, yes. But, as they say, life is not about waiting for the storm to pass. It’s about learning how to dance in the rain.

As of now, I’m setting a real fire under my butt. I’m not going to hide behind the digital walls of social media as I attempt to make a change. I’m going to step across the threshold, sacrifice my vulnerability, and add my voice to the crowds of people demanding equality, change, love, happiness, freedom, and comradery.

After all, we’re stronger together.

Sincerely,

Stephanie

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Dear the Uber Driver Who Drove Me Through McDonald’s On the Way Home,

You were my age once. I’m sure you understand what it meant to me to have a large, hot, greasy fry in my stomach after a night of both good and irresponsiblity-inducing spirits, but we don’t need to talk about the latter.

The point is… you came in the night like a knight at the helm of a shiny, grey, armored land-boat… equipped with four doors and air conditioning. It was hot, was it not? My God… why did I even venture from my house? If I wanted to come home as wet (from sweat) as I did, I might as well have dived head first into the James River… that is, if the James River was a sweat river. A river of sweat.

But that’s beside the point.

What I’m trying to say is I was nervous about asking you if you’d mind going through the McDonalds drive-thru. It was 2 a.m. and you had a family to get back to. (Ugh, I hate ending sentences with “to.”) I knew that. My friend, Chris, knew that. And yet, the words came tumbling out of my mouth as if of their own volition. “Do you think we could go through McDonald’s?”

I prepared myself for a firm but respectful negative. But it never came. You were more than happy to find a McDonald’s! Oh, happy day! I’m not sure whether it was the elation or the alcohol, but I believe I offered—no, DEMANDED—to buy you a cup of coffee, as you were up late and clean out of caffeine. Plus, let’s be honest, the life of an Uber driver at 2 a.m. on Sunday mornings must really be something. You just never know what characters will pile into your car next. I’d love to read a book compiled of outrageous stories told by Uber drivers. New York Times’ Bestseller list, here it comes!

Anyway, you may not ever read this, but I wanted to thank you. I also wanted to apologize for forgetting your name. But, let’s be real, the minute I got home and inhaled my fries, I was out. But I thoroughly hope you enjoyed your coffee. It’s the least I could do for someone who managed to save me from a hangover the following morning.

Sincerely,

Stephanie

Dear The Webbed Creature Squatting in Our House,

By “webbed creature,” I mean you, bat.

Angie, the young lady you quite nearly made piss herself (she might have) a.k.a. my roommate, has named you Brenda. You don’t deserve it, but she’s too compassionate for her own good. And, if we’re being honest, though I haven’t seen you in person (in bat?), you are pretty cute.

But it doesn’t matter…

You’ve still managed to run my roommates and me out of our house. It’s because of you that poor Wellesley has had to sleep, curled up alone in each of our beds, meowing, eating, biding his time. A tragedy. I hope you’ve, at the very least, befriended him. If nothing else, you’ve spiked his curiosity. What is this winged, hoof-less pig defying gravity? Because apparently our cat is familiar with pigs and the concept of gravity but not bats.

Look, you’re probably dead by now. The animal control guys told us you wouldn’t last more than three days. It’s sad really. We may have saved you had you revealed yourself again, but alas! You granted us one appearance, leaving Angie with nothing but nightmares, moist sheets, and possibly rabies—care to pay for the shots she’s now having to withstand? Did you know she can’t drink alcohol for nine months because of you? Because of your GERMS? Well, if you know Angie like I do, you know she will not abide by that. If something happens to her, we’re suing your corpse.

Listen, by the time I finally get home tonight, you better be gone—dead or alive. Either way, we’re selling your body at our yard sale tomorrow and asking for enough cash to pay for the medical bills. Not to mention, the landlord has been making us pay your rent… You could, at least, pitch in some green. And by “green,” I mean drugs. Just kidding. I don’t do drugs. No, really. I don’t. But do you? Have any on you?

Sincerely,

Stephanie

Yes, I made a new blog

Okay, so I liked my “lessons” theme before, but I thought of a better one. So I made a new blog, and BROUGHT YOU ALL ALONG WITH ME.

Why “SincerelyStephanie”? Well, because I want this new blog to be a epistolary blog, made of letters…from me… to the people/events/things/ideas of the world. See, for the last year or so, I’ve been writing letters to get my thoughts out on paper. Letters to my ex-boyfriend, my roommate, my mom, my crush, my friends, etc. None of these people, however, have seen these letters, and they never will. They’re just a way for me to keep my thoughts, negative or positive, from boiling over and erupting inside my head and then melting my body down to a stub as they waterfall to the floor. Too graphic? Yes. Always.

So, on this blog, I’ll be writing a range of different letters: to the asshole who cut me off in traffic the other day, to my lovely used-to-be-roommate who is currently on her way to Portland to LIVE, to my stupid brother, to Republicans, to Donald Anti-Christ Trump, to my cat, to my headache I had last night that nearly killed me… AND SO MUCH MORE.

Honestly, I’m really excited about this blog, and I can’t wait to get started!

Sincerely,

Stephanie (starting to get it?)