This week seems to be letter week.

Last night, I found a letter on my desk from an "Inspector General I.M. Anonymous" from Texas. I didn’t know anyone from Texas, and I didn't recognize the name.

Did I freak? Of course, I did.

It took me ten seconds to open the damn envelope, all the while thinking "Oh My God, they've found me! They're coming to get me! I'm going to jail! They'll drag me to an inquiry! Whatever I did, I’m sorry! I didn't know it was wrong, but I promise never to do it again! I'm sorrryyyyyy!!!!"

At which point, the letter came out and saw my first ever letter from Starfleet International--an amendment to last year's handbook and a sample ballot for the coming elections.

…

It occurred to me that I led way too much of an exciting life if I half-expected letters from people of frightening authority to write me. Although if you think about it, if they were really out to get me, I doubt if they’d bother to send me a letter.

Perhaps it's a bit too paranoid, but if you’ve got former NPA rebels unexpectedly dropping into your home and getting weird phone calls after you’ve visited the Interpol website, you can’t help but credit some of these wonky things.

Did I mention that those were just the tip of the damn iceberg?

Weird shit just seems to happen to me. Like getting fucking sick after getting my information packet from the University of New Zealand at the height of the anthrax mail scare. It turned out to be typhoid fever, but I had to take Ciprobay anyway, which is the same antibiotic that they gave to anthrax victims.

Funny, yes, but not really that amusing when it turns your brain into noodle every time you take it. I was blissfully lethargic for the next two weeks, which was great considering that I was like a baking clam for weeks before that.

…

Not all mails were freaky mail this week, though.

I got a long letter from Hannah, my best friend from when I was 12, whom I haven't talked to for close to eleven years! She doesn't have time to e-mail—environmental construction can do that—so she sent me good old snail mail. Thick too. She told me everything that happened to her in the past ten years—the good and the bad. She told that she knew I wouldn't judge her by what she said, nor would I be overwhelmed, since she was confident that the time and distance didn’t do much to change our friendship. Sent me a Christmas card too.

Enid, on the other hand, sent me e-mail—which she rarely does, since life sucks when you have a shifting schedule.

We talked about life, loves, money, and the ever present topic of boys—again. She asked me how I was with the idea of having a relationship this year, since everyone was always setting me up. Maybe I really wanted one already…In truth, I guess I do. I think I'm finally ready to let somebody else in.

Things seem to be pointing towards that direction, anyway.

I ran into an old classmate of mine—Rowena—from HS the other day. I had a working lunch, since I thought I’d just run over to McD's at the last minute to get some McNuggets to go and avoid the long lines. Anyway, I went out around one or so, and there she was rounding the building.

We just kind of looked at each other and went "hey!"

We chatted for about five minutes before we decided to just have lunch. We talked at McDs for thirty minutes, just catching up on each others lives. I told her my current state of things—a very good briefing, with important details included—and she did the same.

The funny part about the whole thing was that we were never really friends in HS. Besides that that time when she was my classmate in sophomore year, we never really talked. She was in another section and she was an officer in the HS military program. We were both active in school activities, so it was inevitable that we not be familiar with the other, but we had different friends and hung out with different people.

That we would just sit down, enjoy a good lunch then get along as if we were old friends is unusual…at least for me it is.

Oh well, here’s to new friendships. Talk more later. Have to go for lunch.