Ugh, it seems so strange calling you that, but since I don't really know what to call you other than that, I guess that will just have to suffice. I have to tell you first that I can't believe that I am actually writing you, since that really isn't the kind of thing that I do. But, I figured hey, what the hell. Since I was a very young girl you have been my idol, and I'm a senior (in high school) now. I gotta get this off my chest! This damn thing has been sitting here festering for how long? Yes, definitely gotta do something. So here I am, writtingyou, and that is that. So now you know!

As I said, I am a senior. I go to a boarding school in Monterey, but grew up in Novato, and almost when to Redwood High School (I wanted to go SO badly-I figured what better way to meet you if I went to your alma mater, right? Well that fell through…). But, alas, I was sent off to your classic, all-girls boarding school, with the only positive aspect being that it is only 4 years and I will get out of the suffocating grasp of my over-protective, obsessive-compulsive, occasionally apparently psychotic mother. As it turns out, I've had a blast….

SO, now that you know my entire life story…sorry, now that we have had that brief and diverting interlude, let me explain why I have always found you so amazing. I mean, no, obviously you know why you are so amazing, but I would think that it's nice to have stuff like that reiterated. Nothing like a little ego fluff now and then to boost your spirits, right? Ok. It's your voices. You can be anyone, anywhere, anytime. Of course I have always had this obsession with doing different voices (drove my mom crazy as a child-that may have contributed to her current compromising situation of confinement to the psycho-ward at Marin General *sigh*) varying from different accents to my own voices and characters would choose a famous personality and imitate it. Over and over and over and over again. My mother would pull out her air: "no, Jaime, just because you are a quarter Italian does not mean that you should speak with an Italian accent….Yes, the Godfather was male, thus the father part….Please, no more Woody Woodpecker….Yes, Hun, your Skeeter imitation is lovely…JAIME! No more voices! Please!" I cannot tell you how flattered I was when my friends told me that I should do cartoon voices.. Especially after I saw Mrs. Doubtfire. And WOW, is this letter bizarre and random. With my luck, you will take one look, say "Oi vey, what kind of life story? Save me!" and run from the room screaming, leaving my letter (rivaling Tolstoy's War and Peace for the world's longest and most incomprehensible piece of work) slightly wrinkled and disregarded on the floor. But, hey! Hell could freeze over, right? The Broncos won the Super Bowl, so obviously miracles do still happen. I'm keeping my fingers and toes crossed here until I get a response! Despite the fact that doing finals will be a bitch and I may get some complaints about my sloppy handwriting, not to mention the teasing I will endure for my suddenly very strange way of walking….point being, if you never write me back, you will be ruining my life and I will be shunned as an outcast and be forced to become a hermit and go live in the mountains alone, talking to myself. People who live in the town at the foot of the mountain (Because there is always one of those in the stories you hear about crazy hermits) will talk about me in hushed tones, saying "That crazy lady who roams around talking to herself is dangerous!" "No, I doubt that, but I think she must have multiple personalities…" "Bah! That is just what she wants you to think!" And, yes, this will happen, word for word, and will all be because you never responded. I'm not saying that it won't happen even if you do write back-I do seem to have psychotic tendencies. At least I would consider killing my roommate by beating her to death with my math book in a fit of rage is psychotic (but shh, don't tell…the authorities don't suspect me yet). Anyway, I will end my disruption of your life now, but I would love to hear from you, truly. Even if it is only to say that I should consider seeking medical help. Thanx for listening to my psychobabble, and the scary thing is, this is not a brain-fart (although this sentence is). This is me, uncens****, up close (at least if you have bad eyesight and no glasses and can't read the type without holding the paper and inch from your nose), and personal. Don't be afraid, I'm not a stalker (unless you don't write me back, then I will hunt you down and kill you like the beast you are). And so, as the one who has one the "least likely to not be sarcastic" and "most random conversationalist," I bid you good-night. At least it is nighttime for me, it may not be for you, I mean it could be morning, or afternoon…