Dear Hollywood Actresses (Actors too but mostly Actresses)

It's awards season and like every year I'm enjoying the celebration of that art form I love very much - movies. And, like every year, I have had my disappointment, my moment of being shocked by an actress's appearance and the realization that another one has caved. I'm talking about plastic surgery - the procedures you are willingly subjecting yourselves to in order to look less like yourselves.
I'm not judging but I am imploring - please stop butchering yourselves. It is seldom worth it and chances are you will end up looking worse. I won't name names because that would be cruel. Feelings of inadequacy led you to the scalpel, why contribute to that? But when I see Helen Mirren and Sally Field still looking like Helen Mirren and Sally Field, I applaud them. They are older and they look older. They also look real and vibrant and beautiful.
But I get it. I can only imagine the pressures you face. Unkind comments in the press. Perhaps a cruel remark from a producer. Blogs, Twitter, Facebook. So many ways for anyone in the world to point out that you are aging. I can guess what leads you to the decision. But human beings are ridiculous jerks. Why hack away at yourselves to please them? They don't deserve it.
So may I suggest a new role for you? It could be the role of a lifetime: the actress who grows old naturally and gracefully. Not everyone will appreciate the performance but trust me, enough of them will.

Sincerely,
PC

Dear Sometimes,

You are so two-faced. The purveyor of hope but also despair. Because Sometimes it's all in your head and everything is fine. But Sometimes they really are plotting behind your back, talking and laughing about you. Sometimes you ride off into the sunset and get your happy ending. Sometimes you tell the person you love something painful about yourself, hoping it will bring you closer, but they accuse you of making it up. Sometimes the sun shines, the birds sing and all is well in the world. Sometimes a guy walks into a school and shoots a lot of little children.
Just to clarify Sometimes, this is not a love letter.

Sincerely,
PC

Dear Why,

You're not a rhetorical question. We want an answer.


Sincerely,
PC

Dear Santa,

For Christmas I would like:

1. A pony

2. Donald Trump's head on a platter. Taking extra special care with the hair, of course. But if the Donald is considered too indispensable for Republican imbeciles or late night comedians, then I would gladly accept the heads of George W Bush, Rush Limbaugh, or Karl Rove instead. I'm easygoing, Santa.

3. Honey Boo Boo placed with an Amish family for a year or two. I'm thinking the severe culture shock will help to balance the poor little thing out and give her a shot at a better life. And imagine all those sad tabloid stories the world would be spared from reading, Santa. I believe that is called humanitarianism.

4. Justin Trudeau to win the Liberal leadership and become the next Prime Minister of Canada. This one I'm begging you for, Santa. Stephen Harper has been very very naughty. For the sake of little Canadian boys and girls everywhere Santa! Justin has the hair, I mean the heart to make this country great again. Please Santa!

5. Peace in the Middle East. Or radio stations to stop playing that damn Woop it Gangnam Style song. Whichever is easier. I know you're busy, Santa.

6. Michael Fassbender or Leonardo DiCaprio. Or both if I'm very naughty, I mean very good.

We'll that's it. Thanks Santa!


Sincerely,
PC

Dear Fifth Business,

It's been many years since I read the classic by Robertson Davies but I've been thinking about it a lot lately. You're an interesting concept, Fifth Business. The idea that the primary role of some people is to move the action forward in other people's lives. Like the man who makes a comment that resonates deeply with a woman and inspires her to enter politics. Or the girl who helps a boy realize he's finally ready to have a woman in his life, but just not her.
Now don't get me wrong, Fifth Business. It's good to be helpful. It's an honour to contribute to the building of someone else's dream. But to always be the sidekick? To always be the friend and never the star? Doesn't everyone deserve the chance to be the main character? In every life, shouldn't the story actually be about that person once in a while? Perhaps it's time to divvy up the action, Fifth Business. Perhaps it's time to be fair.

Sincerely,
PC

Dear Insecurity,

I am deeply ashamed of how completely I've allowed you to control my life. Every step I haven't taken, every word I haven't written, every romance I've destroyed, you Insecurity have been behind it all. You're the voice whispering incessantly in my ear, telling me I can't, I will fail, I'm not good enough, he could never love me.
I know what I'm supposed to do, Insecurity. I'm supposed to make a pretty speech about how I will muster the strength and courage to overcome you. But you've been working on me for over three decades and I'm feeling a little spent. I have no pretty speeches for you at the moment. They say, though, the first step in overcoming a problem is to recognize you have one. So be on notice, Insecurity. I have recognized you.

Sincerely,
PC

Dear Taliban,

I pity you. Trapped in the sickness of your mind you kill and terrorize for the reward of a glorious after life. Too bad it doesn't exist. Not your version. So the joke is on you. And it always will be.

Sincerely,
PC