Dear, Mr. Mad Hatter

How are you? I am just fine. I wonder how many people ask the question out of politeness or just to occupy silence. I wonder how many more people give the same response for the same reasons. I assure you, however, that this question when asked of you at the beginning of this letter is meant in the most sincere and impolite way possible, without being rude of course. There is no silence to occupy in a letter: just black space that can easily be taken up by obnoxiously large font. I can also assure you that my response is neither out of politeness or to fill silence, it is merely the automatic response that comes to mind when such a question presents itself to me. Am I fine? Well, I have no cavities, I am not ill, no one close to me has died recently, I have many dear friends, my father is coming home from Malaysia today and I am considered extremely well off compared to a majority of the population. Yes, I say that in a comparison to masses I am more then fine. I am excellent.

But how rude of me! I have yet to introduce myself and you don't even know my name. Well then I shall tell you so we can stop such unforgivable rudeness. My name is Lesedi. You, my dear friend, can call me Sedi pronounced Sadie. How was it that I stumped upon your name and address? In a book my most preferred mad man. That's where any person may look and find a name and a place to send a letter. Down the rabbit hole in a tea cup, I am most sure this will reach you. It was in a dream which is very close to a book (a good one anyway) that Alice first found this rabbit hole which then led her to meeting you. Do you remember Alice? I believe you attended her un-birthday party. Oh and before I forget, happy un-birthday to you.

Out of curiosity I must ask you, what is it that you do when it is not tea time? It cannot be tea time all the time, because all the time is not tea time. What about bed time? Where do you sleep? I sleep in a warm bed in the corner of my room with no less then four pillows and a doll. Do you sleep alone? I do. What about your friends, that delightful rabbit and that adorable little mouse, what exactly is your relationship with them? True, you are characters from a children's story so I suspect nothing too intimate, forgive me if you were offended by implications I did not mean to imply. Does drinking all that tea stain your teeth? Both my parents' teeth are stained. They drink tea all the time. My mom isn't supposed to have caffeine, I forget why. She drinks it anyway. I like tea to, but not the English stuff my parents get. I like green tea, and jasmine tea, and this herbal nighttime tea that my mom drinks when she can't sleep at night. I don't like iced tea. I like it hot so I have to sip it slow. But I still drink tea faster then a lot of people. I don't like it when it gets cold.

There are a lot of stranger couples in the hallways of the building where I go to school. I hate this building. You can be at one end and it looks exactly like the other. Same grey tiled walls, same dark red door frames, same rows of lockers, same everything. It's like a maze and I still forget where I am sometimes. But the people aren't all the same. Every one looks different from the next one. I see these people every day as I walk to and fro my classes. Sometimes they are alone, sometimes they are with groups. Nobody is ever loud and obnoxious without their friends to back them up. No one ever kisses without a boyfriend or a girlfriend to kiss. I have my favorites. A friend of mine, well a sort of friend anyway, she has beautiful blond hair (natural of course) and the sweetest smile ever. She's nice. Her boyfriend is really cool, I don't know him though. Never said a word to him. He sees me, every time I forget to pretend I don't see them and she smiles and says hi. I say hi back, I look at him, he looks at me, and we don't know each other. He has nice lips. The weirdest couple is on the way to this class. The poor guy, he isn't out of high school yet but his hair is already so thin it looks like someone glued toothpicks to his head. He spikes it up with snotty gel to hide the fact that he's going bald. And now he kisses a fat girl in the hallway. Her hair is black too. I don't think it's either of their natural colors.

Do you read books? I love them. Sometimes I get so into a book, and then I start to think like the narrator. Except, the book I'm reading now, I'm not smart enough to think like him. So I just pretend. Has my writing style changed from the beginning of this letter? My thinking style changes, it changes from day to day depending on what I'm influenced by. I'm not myself. You know how people say to be the real you and if you're not then you're a poseur and they hate people like you. But I like pretending I'm other people. I like pretending I'm invisible. I don't like talking to people who I want to be, because then they'll realize that they never want to be me and that might make me not want to be me. But I like me. I like you too. I never read about you. I should though, the books are always better then the movies.

I saw you in Alice in Wonderland and you were so funny! My friend dressed up like you for Halloween. No one dresses up like me, ever. You have cool clothes though, so I can understand why someone would want to dress up like you. I don't wear cool clothes, not most of the time anyway. I have a few shirts and things that I love and I feel really cool when I wear. But I can't wear them every day. A lot of people in the hallways take the clothes they wear very seriously. Cowboy boots and tight-ass jeans and sweatshirts and skirts and shoes and logos and band names. It's all very important to your statement. Everyone is expected to have a statement. To believe in something, to stand for something. Religions, anarchy, music, study, poetry. Something. I don't think I stand for much of anything. I am happily dissatisfied with my life. I don't want to learn the things they are teaching me, not the way they are teaching me. I don't want to grow up to get a job and make money to buy things so I can survive and then die. But I don't know what I'd do instead. So I go along with it.

What exactly would you say your profession is? Are you an un-birthday celebrator? A tea party thrower? A tea drinker? Or just a Mad Hatter? Well whatever you are I hope you enjoy it. My dad hates his job. But just came home from Singapore and brought be back a necklace and some shirts from Chinatown. He said that Singapore has all the different cultures of Asia molded into it. He said that he ate at a German restaurant and ate duck liver. I thin I'm like Singapore. I want to go there someday. But not now. Apparently girl's soccer isn't very big over there.

I wrote a letter to a girl a few weeks ago. I know her from class. She was one of those really cool people. She was pretty too, but not blond and her hair was curly. She went to Spain and on her MySpace (do you know what that is?) left a note saying how she loved letters. So I emailed her and asked for her address. She sent it to me. I wrote her a letter and mailed it. I didn't say much. I didn't know her. But I would see her again, she hadn't written back yet. I've said a lot more in this letter. I don't know you. But I won't see you ever. So that makes it ok. Since I won't see you and you won't see me, you aren't real to me. And if you aren't real to me then this whole letter is fictional. Just like everything I write. I like fiction. I like it very muh.

Well I hope everything in Wonderland is wonderful. Give my love to everyone there and be sure to drink a cup of tea in honor of me. Or half a cup. I don't mind.

Lot's of love,

Lesedi Vine