Letters 6

Dear Girl Jogging in Uggz Boots,

You baffle me. You are dressed as if you are jogging on purpose: red track jacket, sweat pants, head band. Then I see your Uggz. First off, those are the most despicable thing any woman can wear, and I immediately will take you less seriously because you are wearing them. But I see you running on campus, all decked out in gear, down until your Uggz. I notice that you also are not wearing a backpack. Are you late for class, and the whole jogging outfit is how you normally dress? Wait, it's 2:30 on a Tuesday? You've already missed about half of class by this point, why bother going? WHY ARE YOU JOGGING IN UGGZ!?!?

Dear Classmate/Serious Note Taker,

You brought your laptop to class with you, so therefore you should be typing the notes faster than everyone else, who so happen to be using paper and pencil. But not me, since I went ahead and printed out the notes beforehand because I am too lazy to write anything down in class. Which brings me to ask, why are you asking the professor to go back a slide so you can TYPE the notes on your LAPTOP? Just hop on the wireless network available all throughout campus and download the notes, like half of the class does anyway.

Dear SAC Workers,

Get off your high horse and set up a freakin' volleyball net. Nobody is even playing basketball on the court that has volleyball priority EVERY NIGHT OF THE WEEK.

Letters 5

Dear Obnoxious Michigan State Fan (or insert any school/team of your choice),

You go to Central Michigan University, but you are a Michigan State football fan. That's okay with me; I'm a Michigan fan. But Michigan is not my team. I have no first-hand affiliation with the team. My father and brother attended U of M, it's in my blood, sure, but that's the closest I am to that school. I refer to their team as "Michigan" or "the Wolverines" or "the maize and blue." You, on the other hand, call the Spartans "we." Who exactly is "we?" You attend Central. The Chippewas are "we." The Spartans are not "we" unless you are a Spartan. Sparty on, douche bag.

Dear Person walking back from the SAC at 11 pm on a Tuesday night,

Why are you pushing the crosswalk button to cross Broomfield? I am the ONLY car on the road right now, and you are forcing me to stop at this light, so you, and only you, can cross the street. What, you can't wait 10 freaking seconds for me to drive by? You had plenty of time to cross in front of me! Crosswalks are for pussies anyway.

Dear cat sitting on the top of my chair at Joe's apartment,

When you wag your tail back and forth, you tickle my ear and it makes me giggle.

I was in the library earlier today, working on a study guide. I like being at the library, because CMU's Park Library is awesome and the bookshelves move. It's a wonderful environment with little distractions, and I've been going to the corner or the fourth floor to study for big exams for years. I just plop down at a table all to myself by the window, plug in my laptop, crack open a big text book, and go to town.

But that's not all, and that is definitely not what this post is about.

I love to listen to music when I'm at the library, because it puts me in my own little area and nobody else in the library can bother me. I really enjoy music with no lyrics, like Ratatat or Anamanaguchi, because it's less distracting and puts me in a really good mood.

But today I also listened to Sawdust by The Killers. Three years ago I would have told you that CD was "okay," somewhere between Hot Fuss and Sam's Town, because it sounded like both albums (mostly because it contains B-sides from singles released from each CD). I would have said that because it wasn't fast enough, or loud enough, or upbeat enough. I think during that time I had a certain brand of rock that I wanted to listen to, and Sawdust just didn't fit into that mold.

But listening to it today, I really loved it. I can't say that it's grown on me (but it sort of has), but instead I have a greater appreciation for the music. The vocals and lyrics are fun to listen to and sing along with, the rhythm from the guitars and the bass lines are great, and (my favorite part) the drums are awesome to play (pat on my thighs) with.

It's not just Sawdust, but I have a greater appreciation for most music now. I hate to say it, but I think Guitar Hero has a lot to do with it. Rocking out on a plastic guitar was one thing, but when I tried to learn a few chords and riffs on a real guitar, I grew a much greater respect to those who can play the instrument. Along came Rock Band, and flailing my arms behind a plastic drum kit has given me one of my favorite hobbies, but it has also given me rhythm and the skills to recognize that rhythm in any song. I don't actually need a drum kit to play along!

Silly Rabbit

No longer mocked for his stupid dim wit,
Victory has come for the Trix Rabbit.
Slowly stalking from his disgusting hole,
He crept up on a boy feasting from a bowl.

Wanting attention with intentions to gloat,
He ignored the bowl and struck at the throat.
Disregarding the rule which the law forbids:
“Silly rabbit, Trix are for kids!”

His muddled white fur then stained in red,
He finished the bowl, and grinning he said,
"Oranges, Lemons, and Grapes I see;
The fruit taste of Trix is all for me.”

Troy's Hands

Troy's hands are sweaty and cracked,
scars and scabs covered by his heavy brown gloves.
Pushing the lawnmower with one hand, he brings
his other hand up to his mouth, taking a drink from
a warm can of Busch Light.
I would think he imagines his property is a wild jungle,
and he needs to clear a path so we can all be safe.
I'll ask him how much longer until he's finished with
his chores, or if he needs me to start chopping wood.
"Damn it, Rodney," he'll reply, "get me another beer."

You're Really Growing on Me

You were with me every day,
Hugging my good looks and
Caressing my rugged face.

You kept me warm.

A regal figure,
Like Abraham Lincoln or
Henrik Zetterberg.

You made me feel accomplished.

Always together,
Nobody could separate us.
You complemented my smile.

You grew on me.

I had to cut you off.
We had been so close,
The shave was closer.

Without you, I feel naked.
I look younger.
I feel colder.

You’ll come back to me,
To fill in the gaps in my life.
I know this,
It’s almost playoff season.

Everybody Wang Chung Tonight

“Accept everything about yourself--I mean everything. You are you and that is the beginning and the end--no apologies, no regrets.”
-Henry Kissinger

There was that night
I drove thirty minutes to your house, and
I bought you dinner, and
We played pool, and
You let me win, and
We watched The Princess Bride, and
We sat close to each other, smiling and
Laughing…

And there was that night
I came to your party, and
You introduced me to all of your friends, and
We swam in your pool, and
We showed off our dives, and
I knew I wouldn’t see you for two months…

And then one afternoon
After you came back from Europe, and
You had that look in your eyes, and
Your finger beckoned me to come closer, and
My heart started racing, and
My body began shaking, and
My breaths became shorter, and
My mouth got dry, and
My palms were sweaty, and
You wanted me to kiss you, but
I never made a move…

Memory Loss

A tragic winter morning, tears were shed.
I felt a blend of panic and distress.
Confused, I stumbled drunk out of my bed
To see that my whole life was now a mess.
Alone in nothing but my underwear,
I feared that my whole memory was lost.
I wondered what the hell had happened there,
And tried to save my world, but at what cost?
I made a phone call that would scar my pride:
To complex minds who work with the IT.
They told me that my motherboard was fried,
And there was no chance at recovery.
This disaster was nothing that I planned,
A brand new computer will cost a grand!


This sonnet was inspired by the fact that, well, my laptop died. Written in my ENG 392 class, Creative Writing: Poetry, in February 2010. It is an English sonnet, written in iambic pentameter.