As we're closing up the shift tonight, my metrosexual friend and coworker, Josh, says to me "I miss these kids when I go. I made them. I brought them up, and made them who they are."

He is referring to the kids we work with who are leaving for college and one who is going back to high school in limestone. It makes me stop and think how wrong he is, and how a certain kind of man (unmarried, almost always, and living a relatively small life that they've inflated in their minds.) need to take credit for success of other people. People are smart or funny or who just stand out always have to deal with people trying to be a part of their success. I don't even have any real success, just, perhaps, a certain way with words and, perhaps, a certain amount of potential, and it makes me nauseous to think of how many people will say they made me what I am, when I am something.

Or perhaps a select few made me paranoid about this phenomenon...I'm not really sure.

Another thing that bothers me are people who are there for you just so they can take credit for being there for you. I think that trumps the first. I try to make it a point not to do that, but who knows if I succeed.

I've been thinking a lot lately about Alanis Morissette's song "Unsent", which consists of five short letters to men of her past, exposing the ulimate truths about their respective relationships with her (or what stood as the ultimate truths at that point in her life). I've been thinking I should write out my own version of it, that perhaps this would be an exercise in closure (something I never learned) and I think I may do that now, though I'm unsure as to whether it would particularly wise to post it here, as that would be somewhat....counter-productive. However, I'd like to inspire this as a new trend in blogs...I'd love to read some other peoples. I think, perhaps, I will change the names....let's see how it goes, and I'll get back to you.


Done, and less than a page. Emily's always on my ass for being too long-winded, she'd be really proud. I started by making a list of potential recipients, then I crossed out anyone who I've already comed to terms with the realities of our relationship. From there, I crossed out people who I wouldn't have had enough to say to that was really important, and then I crossed out, with one exception, people I still have a standing relationship with. If I change the names, everyone who read would probably know who everyone else was anyway. The thing is, there's something exposed in it that...I don't know if this is the time or the place, but...I guess it's now or never, and that all depends on the luck of the draw.

But you'll know who you are, and you should e-mail me. We maybe should talk this out.

I'm gonna leave the names blank, and the amount of spaces is no indication. Anyway, here goes nothing, and, as always, I leave myself open to some massive amount of backlash.

My Unsent

By the way, it's kinda in the same rhythym that she did it in, I think anyone who's heard the song will really appreciate it a lot more.


Well, that's enough ultimate truth for one night. Now to prepare for the fallout.

On with it.