The Pen is Mightier

February 9, 2017

2/9/14

Dear Beth Cassidy,

I'm very pleased to hear that you're able to deal fine with the 53¢ stamps. I think the best course of action in order to not be taken totally off guard by the inevitable price hike to 54¢ would be to buy a bundle of those "forever stamps." You know, the ones whose value is determined only by the time you buy them, and then they're good for...well, forever? Yeah, get some of those for sure.

I will admit, you found a clever way around my evil plan, one that I certainly could not have anticipated. I'm absolutely shocked that you're able to write both beginning and end parenthesis marks. Apparently you're just full of surprises.

One of these surprises is the fact that you would take a pen over a sword in a fight to the death. I guess I understand your reasoning, but I would have other reasons for choosing the pen. Contrary to you, my reasoning is not just based off of some cliche phrase like "the pen is mightier than the sword." See, I honestly am not afraid to die. That's one of my smallest fears probably. In fact, if given the opportunity to die so that someone else could live, I would probably take that opportunity. It's just, this world can be such a pain sometimes. I'm not just talking minor things like annoying people, foolish governments, and a constant lack of mashed potatoes. I'm talking real pain. Physical pain is one thing. But the scars that come from betrayal? The wounds that never close and somehow find a way to become infected? The type of pain that comes from losing interest in everything that you've ever loved and from being just a part of the machine known as "society?" That's the type of pain I'm talking about. I wouldn't mind escaping that pain. But only for a good reason, and I mean a really good reason, such as to save someone else.

I'm glad you found my spiel on end parentheses interesting. I found your point of view every bit as exciting to read as one of your narrations, and I find the analogy to life most fitting. However, I believe that you and I represent opposite views on this matter, especially when it comes to the end parenthesis. You say that after one's death, essentially one lives on through the memories of other people, and thus the parenthesis is not closed until every scrap of history regarding them is concluded. In theory, then, I suppose you might be saying the parenthesis will never close because the entirety of human history has been altered, even if only by the most microscopic amount, because of this one person, and therefore their parenthesis has remained open, and will remain open until the end of the world.

That is where you an I differ in our interpretation of the end parenthesis. I do understand what you mean by people trying to "end" the parenthesis of another person, and I agree that, to some extent, people do attempt this feat. I don't think that they can do this, for the simple fact that the parenthesis has already been closed. It would be like putting an end parenthesis where there never existed a beginning, or perhaps more appropriately, closing with two parentheses where there was only one to begin with. My point is that when a person does die, they stop writing their parenthesis. Their story has ended. This does not mean that the impact they have on other lives is nonexistent. Quite the contrary. I believe that those who supersede someone else have the opportunity to look at the entire parenthesis written up by the individual, from start to finish, and then let that impact their own life. There is a definite end to their story, but they continue to trickle down through history by the parentheses of those who knew them best. In essence, the history of the world may be seen as an enormous parenthesis, with smaller parentheses inside, all of which affect each other, but all of which are also closed off once that person leaves the world.

The parentheses of life are too complicated to dissect in a single letter. I feel like I should switch my major and solely study parentheses for the rest of my life. I'm sure my mom would be so proud of me.

Concerning the "Writing 101" course, send my condolences to Claire. I wouldn't wish that pain on anyone. Congratulations to yourself for having tested out of that class. I probably should have tried to, and most likely could have, tested out of it if I had been dedicated to the AP testing, but alas, I am not that smart. Well, sort of not that smart. I'm common sense, think-your-way-through-it type of smart, not strictly knowledge type of smart. There's a big difference there.

I think that you and I secretly love purposefully making elementary mistakes in our writing letters to each other. I could write a sentence that no makes sense any ever all at, and I would probably get major satisfaction out of it. (I was right. I did get major satisfaction out of that last sentence.)

I am pleased to hear that your date with James was a grand success! The coffee, the pastries, all of it was a masterpiece of an outing that must have been very memorable. After all, that's what dates are supposed to be: memorable. I'm sorry that your pastries went not fully devoured by you and James. I almost shed a tear when I read that they fell on the ground. When I read that you fell on the ground, however, I laughed. That must have been quite the show for all those coffee-place goers.

"Goers" is a weird word. You know what else is a weird word? "Sorries." The plural of "sorry." I didn't even know that someone could possess more than one sorry. Or even one sorry for that matter. English is a strange language, you know that?

I'm glad that you're accepting my BFF hospitality. My mom and dad got back from their cruise (I still can't believe they were gone for Christmas because they were on a cruise without me. How rude.) about two weeks ago, so I'll tell them what's going on this summer. I'm so glad that we'll no longer be just long distance BFFs, but that you and James and I can form a little triangle of friendship. Let's not make it anything more complicated than a friendship triangle, though, alright? You know those love triangle things? Yeah, none of that this summer, okay?

Speaking of summer though, it got me think about next year, and unfortunately, I won't be transferring down to California in the fall. Things just didn't really work out money-wise and I don't think half of my credits would transfer anyways for one reason or another. It's sad. I know. I'm lame. Shoot me now.

We have a few pools near our house. None of the closest ones are outdoors, as I'm sure you're used to down there in Sunnyland, California. I'm sure you are a fabulous lifeguard. You probably wouldn't even let a butterfly drown would you?

Well now, let me answer the questions you asked in your last letter. Because you probably have no idea what questions I'm referring to, I'll repeat them.

Q1. Any deep dark secrets I'm willing to part with?

A1. No.

Q2. Any long lost girlfriends that I'm trying to contact?

A2. No.

Q3a. Any CIA intel that I can part with?

A3a. The only way to capture a three-legged flamingo is with a 47 pound dolphin playing with a hula-hoop.

Q3b. Just kidding. I'm not in the CIA.

A3b. That's what you think.

Q3c. (Or are you?)

A3c. (Tee-hee. [ ) ]

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Again, the end parenthesis was added by Beth after she had received the letter. She says it was as if she were obligated to finish it, but that she later regrets not keeping the letter in its untouched form.

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Q4. Favorite Disney Princess?

A4. That, my friend, is a secret I will reveal only in my final hours. My favorite non-Disney Princess, however, is Princess Peach.

Your CIA BFF,

Howard Davis

P.S. Immortalizing our memories in each others hands isn't such a bad idea. At least this way, it'll seem like we just communicate with crazy people. We won't seem crazy, only whoever writes these letters to us will.

P.P.S I figure by the time you will have received this and written a reply, Valentine's Day will have passed us. You and James should go see a movie or something. Any rom-com will be fine. He loves them. (Insert sarcastic voice there.) Seriously though. Buy him chocolates.

P.P.P.S Don't you just hate when there's more than one "P.S.?"