Kara Hood

Message No. 110 of 173

Direction

It’s rainy on a Tuesday, no work, and I’m planning where to vacation in January. January is always my worst month and I figured this year it should be spent somewhere sunny, away from the ice and snow. I got a promotion at work and I guess my “career” is looking promising from a conventional perspective. I can remember talks we had about “achievement” and how often the wrong measuring stick is used. I’m not sure success in my current career means anything in the big picture. I can’t help but wonder what you would think of what I’m doing now; how you would have felt about the world and the effects of September 11. I keep remembering our last conversation, you telling me to “be gentle” with myself. It sounded so unusual to me that I can still hear you saying it. I went to a wedding last week and all my friends from college were so surprised at what I was doing. Most had figured me to be living in some tribal town in Africa, teaching indigent children in Guatemala, something like that. They all wanted to know what happened to that idealistic kid who was so philosophical in school. The one who asked you why the hell you would want to go to law school and the one who looked at the world with such wonder and awe. The one who was always talking about doing something with his life and how it’s a gift that should be spent showing your appreciation. I wanted to know what happened to him too. I know part of him left the day you did. I know the whole world changed and I could never appreciate things in the way I did before. Like a tree whose roots have been cut, I have felt like I could still grow, but never in the same direction I once did. But I’m through making excuses for myself. You’re not the reason I haven’t become the man I thought I once would. You’re not the reason for any of the mistakes I’ve made since you left and I’m through blaming them on your absence. It’s time I started owning my own mistakes and it’s time I started working on what life is about again. I love you Kara and I am sorry for not honoring you the way I should. I hope I can make you proud again.

Stimpy

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Direction
	It’s rainy on a Tuesday, no work, and I’m planning where to vacation in January. January is always my worst month and I figured this year it should be spent somewhere sunny, away from the ice and snow. I got a promotion at work and I guess my “career” is looking promising from a conventional perspective. I can remember talks we had about “achievement” and how often the wrong measuring stick is used. I’m not sure success in my current career means anything in the big picture. I can’t help but wonder what you would think of what I’m doing now; how you would have felt about the world and the effects of September 11. I keep remembering our last conversation, you telling me to “be gentle” with myself. It sounded so unusual to me that I can still hear you saying it. I went to a wedding last week and all my friends from college were so surprised at what I was doing. Most had figured me to be living in some tribal town in Africa, teaching indigent children in Guatemala, something like that. They all wanted to know what happened to that idealistic kid who was so philosophical in school. The one who asked you why the hell you would want to go to law school and the one who looked at the world with such wonder and awe. The one who was always talking about doing something with his life and how it’s a gift that should be spent showing your appreciation. I wanted to know what happened to him too. I know part of him left the day you did. I know the whole world changed and I could never appreciate things in the way I did before. Like a tree whose roots have been cut, I have felt like I could still grow, but never in the same direction I once did. But I’m through making excuses for myself. You’re not the reason I haven’t become the man I thought I once would. You’re not the reason for any of the mistakes I’ve made since you left and I’m through blaming them on your absence. It’s time I started owning my own mistakes and it’s time I started working on what life is about again. I love you Kara and I am sorry for not honoring you the way I should. I hope I can make you proud again.
	Stimpy