pen pals

when i was 9 years old, i had my first penpal. her name was cheryl and she lived in milton ontario which is mere hours away from me. she was a friend of my cousin's. and we wrote each other letters and it was fun. 

when i was 12, i got my first real penpal. her name was roselyn and she lived in zimbabwe. we wrote to each other for years. her letters were the highlight of my month. she once sent me a necklace ... i still have it upstairs in a box. we wrote to each other until i was 18, when i told her that i was a lesbian and she began to pray for my soul. and then she stopped writing. 

when i was 15, i had a penpal in estonia. and one in michigan. and one in china. 

writing to someone far away was a great way for me to express my feelings safely. kind of like the opposite of therapy where i have to say things in person, face to face, with no distance. having a penpal meant being able to bare my soul without fear of rejection. until roselyn rejected me, but that was a cultural and religious difference. 

i would write pages and pages for each letter. my penpal in china was by far my favourite. he and i would exchange letters on airmail paper. i would tell him about my pathetic love life and he would give me advice, and then tell me about his. i came out to him as a lesbian and he accepted me. i have all of his letters upstairs in the same box as the necklace from roselyn. 

a few years ago, i started playing an online scrabble game with a random stranger. we played back and forth and chatted between turns. after a year or so of playing, we both admitted to each other that we were only continuing the game to stay in touch with each other and instead became facebook friends. i call her my digital penpal. 

i think this blog has become my digital penpal way of expressing myself. i am now at 16,500 page views, most of which come from russia. hello to my russian readers!! 

i can say here what i cannot express in person. i can ramble, or share, or give advice, or simply spill my guts. 

writing for me is a way of breathing. 

my readers, my audience, have become my penpals. so hello to you and thanks for reading. 

be kind to yourself, 

xoxo

...

gigi

today i was given a gift. 

i was given a baggie with folded up letters in it. old letters. 19 year old letters. letters from my friend gigi who this blog is named after. letters and poems from my best friend who died when we were 18. 

getting these letters and reading them was like getting a piece of her back. 

i forgot how sardonic and sarcastic she was. i forgot how passion about social justice she was. i forgot how funny she was. i forgot the mundane things we talked about like English projects and hockey games. 

i wanted to share with you a couple of her poems. because i want to share a piece of her with you. here are her poems: 

So what?

Just because your heart is pumping doesn’t mean you’re living,

Just because you’ve made a lot of money doesn’t mean you’re successful,

Just because you give to charity doesn’t mean you’re generous,

Just because you’ve got a degree doesn’t mean you’re intelligent,

Just because you have everything you’ve ever wanted doesn’t mean you’re happy,

Just because someone says you’re better than mean doesn’t mean I should respect you,

Don’t try to buy me with your wallet, money hass no lasting value.

Don’t try to buy me with your superficial flattery, I can see right through it anyway.

Don’t try to make me jealous of your riches, I’m rich, I just dion’t have any money.

Don’t try to make me look uneducatied, there are some things you’’ll never learn in school.

Don’t try to tell me I can’t change the world, jjust watch and learn.

By Gigi

Friday may 13, 1994

The train moves forward

Travelling towards my dreams

I am left behind

When small

Tense, hunched over

Paper and pressing

Hard and carefully

To make words

Letters precise and deep

Within the page

Grammar corrected and

Stressed constantly

Unrelenting, ruthless

And then

Letters perfected

Personal style perfected

(big letters and circles over the “i”s)

Grammer perfected and enforced

And then

Rejection

            Messy scrawls written hurriedly

            Punctuation forgotten or ignored

            Incorrect grammar, rules scorned,

            Mocked; too rigid for

            Real expression

And then

For always

By Gigi

November 7, 1995

this is the last thing she ever wrote. she wrote it on the subway on the way to the party where she died:

Sunday, December 31, 1995

365 days in the year

5 hours left now

Somewhere in the world

It’s already

Next year

But not yet

Here

1996

The year of my graduation

I hope

And then?

New years eve

Is always a night

Of contemplation

Wondering

About accomplishments

Failures

Dreams

And unwanted realities

Life has too many variables

Or not enough

And what will 1996 bring?

What will tomorrow bring?

Tonight?

Is there merit in trying to guess

Or second guess?

And what are we counting down to?

Another ten seconds of our

Life go by

As we look to the next year,

Which will come if we

Watch the parties on T.V. or not.

A funny thing about those

Televised countdowns,

One station tells you

5 seconds left,

The other tells you 7.

Does it even matter?

i want to leave you with this poem about the light inside of us and how we can change the world. that's all she wanted to do; change the world. and change it she did. she changed me. she changed everyone she touched. and her light shines on inside those who loved her. be kind to yourself, and let your light shine ...

Personal light

Each of us has our own little light inside

And after we die various things can happen to that light:

Some lights fade away into the darkness and nobody notices or cares about the loss of their light

Some lights shine brightly, but nobody wants or needs their light and some

Even despise the suffering the light brings

Other lights shine with a loving glow that encompasses all

Anyone who has ever felt the warmth of these beams keep a little glimmer of

Them with them wherever they go

These lights remain brilliant and everlasting

Every person chooses which light will shine within themselves and the type

Of light that will shine after them

(you can) light up the world (forever)

By Gigi

Saturday June 11, 1994