Dear Jenni
This Friday we celebrate our tenth anniversary. Ten years. Seems like such a long time, ten years, and yet I still remember vividly the moment i fell in love with you.
We’ve had ten years together. 3650 days. Each and every one of those days required effort and work and the payoff was something so sweetly intangible and imperceptibly solid that I know in my heart that there will never be another person that can replace you.
More good days than bad, I think that’s about what most people ask for. Sometimes I feel lucky for all that I have with you, I know that I probably don’t deserve, but on the other hand we’ve worked hard to get here and the reward is sweet.
Ten years! I’m not the same person now at 30 as i was at 20 and neither are you. No one ever is. We’ve changed. We’ve had some growing pains. We’ve gone from tentative, cocky brats to um…what the fuck are we now? Christ, i don’t know!
We’ve spent this past decade learning and growing and loving and laughing and crying. There’s been fear and indignation and comfort and bliss. We’ve nursed each other back to health and celebrated our achievements together.
I don’t know where we are going. I know where I want us to end up, but I don’t know any of the specifics. What I do know is that I could not get to where I am without you these past ten years. I know that my successes, my confidence, my attitude would not even exist if you had not been there every day.
Thank you. Thank you for your patience, your guidance, your love, your attention and most importantly, thank you for not taking my shit. You kicked my ass when I needed it and I love you for that.
Ten more years? Why not! I’m up for it.

My head is like a poorly organized grocery store:
Lots of color and some neat things like SpongeBob macaroni and cheese, but it’s hard to find things and often times I am out of canned tomatoes.
Also, some of the carts have wheels that don’t work.
On the other hand, my head is full of really nice ladies willing to hand you a quarter-round of sausage on a toothpick.

Once again the time has come for me to bitch about art. I work at at art college, so this is a pretty regular thing for you.
Art does not exist in a vacuum. If you want to create art, please remember that other people will be experiencing this art, sometimes against their will. My advice to artists, if they want to maintain the general goodwill of the community around them, is to live with their art for one month. That’s right, lock your ass in a room with whatever it is that you have created for public consumption.
You want to display photos of fat old men with poorly formed man breasts standing around in bathing suits? You want to REALLY find out what kind of message this sends to society? Hang this photo on the wall and lock yourself in. Man-breasts send a message about the state of society, you should know.
How about a looping video? Man, do i love the looping video projects. 30 days minimum in a tightly sealed room. That which you find meaningful upon creation might not seem so important after the 357,256 replay. Just a thought.
And Confidential to the guy who installed that piece 100 feet away from me that buzzes and hums randomly throughout the day:
There is a special, well-lit room in hell for you. And even if the physical manifestation of this project gets destroyed, its spirit will be waiting for you in that room.
Thank you.

I have a list of things to write about, but I don’t have time at the moment. Instead I will leave you with this, the cause of my most fervent self-love…..
Aaaaaaw yeah