Re: What are you doing on New Year's?
Dec 31, 2015
to Farrah Halloway
You're completely right: This email's subject was totally misleading, and for a few (hopeful) seconds, I really thought you were going to start pounding on my door bright and early to surprise me for New Year's. But I've had some coffee and food since then, and my expectations have come down to a reasonable level. Mostly, I'm just sorry I didn't see this at 4 a.m. (which I think would be 1 a.m. my time?) so I could've replied to you right then, but I was asleep because work is kicking my ass and sleep is a wonderful thing. I'll definitely watch Princess Diaries today or tomorrow and tell you about how much I fucking probably cry when I do it, no doubt because it'll make me think of you and I miss you more than words could ever describe.
Also, I am always happy to wade through your word vomit.
I'm sorry to hear about Rod! It doesn't seem like it's been an easy month for you, and I know I can take part of the blame there. There is a silver lining though. Maybe. I have no idea. But I'm sure this means that now you can go visit him in Europe (what the fuuuuuuuuck, take me) and you can always come visit me in Portland, and having an excuse to travel somewhere you've never been is always a brilliant thing. And he'll come back to visit you, yeah? You can definitely handle your shit because you are a big girl, but you always know that if you ever need to whine and cry and act like a toddler in a tiara, I'm the girl to go to. No judgment...most likely because I'll whine and cry right back.
Do it. Go for it. (I'm talking about Zappa here, obviously.) I am clearly the worst/last person to talk to about professing your love for someone, but I know that Zappa is good people. And you're good people. And you've been so happy these past few months with him that I can't even sit here and argue against you telling him you love him (and pizza). It doesn't even matter that doing it during the holidays is seen as some sort of cliche because I don't think you'd tell him unless you meant it—and I'm assuming he'd know that, too. I haven't gotten a voicemail from you yet, so I'm assuming you still haven't rambled about your love for pizza. But I will still be over here on the other coast with my pom poms and dorky cheerleader outfit, rooting for you when you do decide the time is right. I'm in your corner, sunfish.
And now I'm gonna answer all your questions and maybe word vomit back in your direction because holy crap I miss you. Portland is beautiful and magical and really fucking rainy all the time, but today it's actually sunny (even if it's below 40). It still doesn't feel like home but I'm working on it. The roommate is...okay. This is where I'm gonna spew nonsense in your direction because you're wonderful and wise and you can tell me if I'm overanalyzing crap. But he's good? Or was good. I don't know at this point. We had a little hiccup when I showed up and surprise, I was a girl instead of a boy because my name is Wyatt and I forgot to disclose that I am the proud owner of boobs, but then things were okay. He's nice and funny and easy to get along with, but he's been a little standoffish these past few days and I don't know if it's because of something I've done. Also he kind of walked in on me naked the other week. Just gonna casually slip that in there, anyway. I don't think he's going to kill me, harvest my organs, sell them on the black market and then turn my bones into eating utensils or anything, but I'm also starting to think that maybe we won't be best friends either...and that makes me a little sad because he's the only person I know here, and ever since he's gotten grumpy and weird with me, I've felt kind of lonely. Needless to say, I've been super homesick lately and your email came at the right time. So thank you. I miss you again.
For New Year's Eve, I am working until around seven tonight (I leave for work in an hour, joy), and then Jack (that's the roommate) invited me to tag along to some house party because he said the idea of me spending NYE alone in our apartment was too fucking pitiful. But he also invited me before he was being weird, so I really don't know if I'll be going tonight. Maybe I'll come home and sleep, or maybe I'll find a bar in Portland to celebrate in, or...I don't know. Options are limitless, I think. What are you doing for New Year's? I hope it's wonderful and that you aren't working because that would be the bummer to end all bummers.
Definitely let me know when you've got some dates in mind and I'll keep my calendar open for you. I've already started making lists of places to take you when you do come here. And it goes without saying here, too, but I'll say it anyway: I miss you a terrible, painful amount, Princess Farrah. And if I don't see you in Portland soon, you'll see me in New York in July. I promise I'm not staying away forever.
Love, love, love,