alessandra (blue_phoria) wrote,


Mr. Murphy,

My name is Alessandra Pamela Fritz. I am in your sixth period class. You probably
know me as Ali Fritz. That’s officially my name now, as long as I attend WHS. Compare
the two; Alessandra and Ali. Ten letters to three letters, respectively. According to, the name ‘Ali’ means ‘noble and sublime’. Alessandra, on the other
hand, means ‘protector of mankind’. My mommy says Alessandra means leader, though. I
don’t know what to believe. Am I noble? Occasionally. Sublime? I forgot what that word
means, but, um, probably, sometimes. Hey, don’t laugh at me. I have a cold.
I’d like to think of myself as a leader, protecting all of mankind. Noble and sublime
can eat used tissues for all I care.
Unless sublime means abnormally sensitive -- then it’s right on the nose. (Did you
notice the pun? If you didn’t, please don’t cry too much.)
As you may have already guessed, I’m a very complicated young lady. Most of the
time, I have no idea what I’m saying until I’ve already said it. That is why, dear teacher, I
love acting so much. Does that make sense? No? Let me explain. Acting is like a peach.
Soft and fuzzy on the outside, sweet and juicy on the inside.
Yes, I know, that didn’t make sense, either.
Cut me some slack, I’m improvising here. I’m no ‘Who’s Line Is It, Anyway?’
partaker... yet.
I love acting because I get to be someone entirely different. Someone with a past,
a present, a future far, far apart from mine. I’m able to put myself in their shoes; learn the
things they learn. As an actress, it’s possible for me to live several different lives at once.
Understand now? Yay.
I want to be either an actress or a director when I’m older. I’m already checking
out options for college.
My dream is to be famous. Some how, some way.
Now, you may or may not be thinking to yourself, “She loves acting, eh?”, and
tossing me in that little wasteland in the back of your brain entitled ‘Drama Queen Dump’.
In doing that, you are absolutely correct, Sir. I am indeed a drama queen. I enjoy reading
books with drama in them. Not necessarily romance novels, although I do love a good one
of those every now and then, but more so books about common strife. People in bad
situations. For some reason, I like reading about people in bad situations. People addicted
to drugs, people who have sex before they're ready, autistic people, people with intense
burns, people with fathers who beat them, people with alcoholic fathers, people with
alcoholic mothers, people with alcoholic brothers, people with gay fathers, people with
gay brothers, people with transsexual brothers, chronically depressed people, people with
overactive imaginations, people who have deadly diseases, crazy people... I could go on,
but you'd stop reading, and I don’t want that. Besides, I think I’ve made my point.
I like to read most things, as long as they’re interesting.
That’s very important for you to know.
I also love music of almost all kinds. I can not, however, stand hard-core anything.
Or country. I hate country music. For the most part.
There are always exceptions, however.
I’ve always been the smart one in my classes. People older than I ask me the
answers to things they don’t understand. I learn quickly and easily, in almost any way,
when I have the willpower to do so. It’s been that way for a long, long while. But last
year, in eighth grade, I was a bad student. I didn’t do most of my homework. I lied to my
parents. Why? Because, as a thirteen year old, I felt I had to stop the world somehow.
You’ve most likely heard this type of thing before. Things were moving too fast for me...
or perhaps they were moving too slow.
I remember, when I was younger, I used to stare at digital clocks, all the time. You
know, the rectangle kind, just the numbers? Yeah. Like the one on the microwave, the one
on the computer, my alarm clock. That sort of thing. I'd stare, and stare, and stare, and
wait for the minute to change. It never did, when I was staring. I swore time was against
me because it'd never let me see it change. It seemed like the only time the minute would
change was when I was blinking, or yawning, or distracted by a sibling, etc., etc. That
made me mad. I'd wake up in the middle of the night and stare at my alarm clock, so
there'd be no siblings to distract me, no sounds to find the source of. Time wouldn't
change for me, then, either. I'd fall asleep, before I even knew it.
Eventually, I gave up. Time didn't want to change for me. It was painfully obvious.
Last night, I realized, recently, I watch time change quite a lot, these days. It's odd.
Then, I wanted it to change so badly, I'd lose sleep over it. Now, I feel like it's changing
too fast, and, for some reason, I can't keep track of it. Like even though I watch it change
so easily, it's changing faster than it says it is.
Geh. That makes no sense.
I guess, when I was younger, I was worried that if I took my eyes off time for a
second, I'd lose sight of it and it'd just go away. I don't know why I thought that way.
I guess I think that way about a lot of things.
However. When I made my mistakes last year, in the back of my mind, I told
myself, ‘This will not happen in high school. I will not allow it.’ High school counts.
Middle school doesn’t. Concentration is my key to unlocking the secret of the good
grades. I need to concentrate, and I will. I will be a success. I will not be a failure.
I told myself so over the summer, so it must be true.
Thirteen. The age of destruction.
Fourteen will be the age of reconstruction for me. It shall be done.
Moving on.
I don’t really care what you do, Murphy, as long as you teach me. I’ll try to listen.
No. I will listen. Do or do not, there is no try! I’ll work on reading the material more
thoroughly so I actually know what you’re talking about, as well. Basically, just keep
doing what you’re doing. You seem like a good guy.
Oh, and on a random note, I didn’t even notice your braces until you pointed them
Hm, what else...
You should probably also know that my parents and I get along much, much better
now than we did last year. I’m a good child. They’re good parents. Dad and Mom
understand me. My father’s a psychiatrist (although he’s rather off himself, he has a zebra
car and goes to Burning Man annually), my mother’s a nurse every other weekend and an
active volunteer. She’s running for city council in a couple of years, you know, and use to
be on the planning commission.
Well, that about raps it up. I’m a drama queen, I like to read, I used to be good,
then I turned bad, now I’m good again, my parents are cool. Everything is like a peach.
Soft and fuzzy on the outside, sweet and juicy on the inside.
Haha, as if.

Signing off,

Alessandra Pamela Fritz
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