dear kim bauer 2

Hey...uh. It's me again.

I know what you're probably thinking. "It's totally wee in the Sunday AMs and 24's like more than a day away." But I've got some stuff I'm mulling over in my head, and I figured you were as good a person as any seeing as you're totally fictional (and totally hot). I guess not totally fictional, but I don't know Elisha Cuthbert, per se. I'm more familiar with Ms. Bauer.

ANYWAY.

I opened my big mouth again and they made me managing editor of the mag. I totally didn't want to do it, but I thought it was the right thing to do, and my mom drilled it in my head that doing the right thing is important. At least I think she did; but I'm not trying to blame her for what I've done. Mom didn't factor into my decision to open my big mouth and volunteer myself for the position. I think that was a mixture of my ironic pride and misguided megalomania. I won't get into all the details, because it's been such a dizzying week that I've forgotten them.

I never raised my hand in class, even when I knew the answers. I'd give them when the teacher's called on me, but otherwise I kept my mouth shut. I didn't want to be seen as a suck up or a know-it-all. It was easier for me to be a background fixture. I always worked hard, though. Being lazy in my family was kind of a crime, seeing as my dearly departed grandfather used to work something like 304 jobs or something like that. The basement of my grandparents' house was a depository for all sorts of tools of his many trades. i think he even made boots. He had the tools to do so anyway, though I can't say I've ever seen any of the boots he made.

I guess that's it. I'd like to think my grandfather made nice boots. But right now, I'm more concerned about why I thought it'd be a good idea to make more work and stress for myself.

Ready for an ulcer,

-j.