Day 220

I promised myself that I would go to bed early tonight (despite having already taken a nap) so I will try to keep this short.

A couple weeks ago there was Facebook Drama when I tried to speak out against the King Hearings held in New York.

And my statement got misconstrued as an attack on Christianity...

Remind me to never use Christian Terrorism in juxtaposition with Islamic Terrorism.

Anyhow, the drama ended when I restated myself, removing the confusion, and easing everyone's fear of myself becoming a terrorist.


Or so I thought.

This is the drama I spoke of yesterday.

Yesterday morning I checked the mail and found I'd received my birthday card from my grandmother. Inside the usual card was the usual birthday money.

Also inside the usual card was an unusual note. This note told me that my comment on Facebook saddened her heart because she herself is a "radical Christian" (the term I used to define Christian extremists), and there's nothing wrong with being radical. And she told me that Jesus loved me, I needed to accept this, because I was heading down a dark and dangerous path.


I think that anyone who reads my blog on a regular basis knows I'm not on any dark nor dangerous path.


The question now is how to handle this. I'm sure you're thinking I should just call her, but I'm passive-aggressive and non-confrontational.

The last time I tried to confront somebody (because that's what everyone says you should do) I was shaking so badly I could hardly get my words out.

In any case, my grandmother and I speak about twice a year, and that's fine with me. We've not been close since I was toddler. I'm used to this by now.

So my best option is to write her back.

My first letter was shot down by Zee, who pointed out that I was being as rash and judgmental as my grandmother. (Well, we are related after all.)

My second letter wasn't a letter - simply the entire Facebook conversation printed off, showing my grandmother that if she'd only taken the time to read the whole thing, she'd have never written me that way. This idea was shot down by my mother, because apparently it's childish.

My third letter I wrote this afternoon while I was desperately tired and trying to avoid a nap. This one, too, was shot down by my mother. She says it's "acceptable" but that it "wasn't loving."

Pfft. I ended the letter with "I love you very much." How is that not loving?

Day 283

Ugh. I was going to try to do my first blog meme thing, but I still have to wrap presents, finish my Korean lesson of the day, and write Zee.

A girl can only do SO much.

And by "write Zee," I mean really write Zee. I have sent off a hand-written letter almost every day since she left. I usually don't write Saturday night to give myself a little bit of a break, and because the mail doesn't run on Sunday anyways. But Sunday through Monday, like clockwork, I get into bed, pull out my stationary, and get to penning. I tell stories, recount some of our memories, write about dreams and the future, complain, love, vent, comfort, and generally just put down whatever is on my mind.

I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to keep it up, but she enjoys them so much I feel inspired every night as I sit down to write.

Heather says she tried to write her husband while he was deployed, but he never got her letters. So she stopped.

Did anybody else have trouble sending their letters? Is it pretty normal to write and send letters by hand, especially in this day and age?