Russell-darling,

I know it's hard being so far from legal you'll graduate before you can drink, but that's no excuse to take out your socially awkward frustrations on Neal. You're supposed to be a minor character; someone nice and there and so expendable it's not even worth killing you off, but instead you're using your nosy little genius head to make yourself lovable and adorable. Ok, maybe not adorable, more a much smarter version of younger siblings everywhere, but still, you keep this up and it'll lead to kidnapping and truama and even death! You'll wish you'd stuck to being anonymous roommate! So, for your own saftey, stop being smart and reading things and going through Neal's private mail, because that's the sort of behavior that evil super villains look for. If you're in his underwear drawer, Neal must love you an awful lot. Snooping is not their first conclusion because, well, usually they're not all that well-balanced and they're usually an only child.

Thank you,
Bossman

P.S. - NO! YOU WILL NEVER BE A SUPERHERO! Now suck it up and get your master's degree.

Dear Neal,

It comes to my attention that though you are the archytypal jock, I have no idea what to do with you. You're vain, not too smart, but not stupid enough to make it a comedy point. How the hell you wrangled yourself into my main character, I don't know, because I like having some semblence of originality - yet I purposely used a cliche, you bastard - except while I chattered with the jocks in high school, I don't actually know shit about them. Oh, the vague sense of 'they're really nice guys who just turn their brain off when in packs' is a given and 'if they REALLY REALLY like her, they're  more likely to walk into a wall than ask what she's reading', but there are SUBSETS of jocks! The truly eroneous ones that give all other jocks a bad name, like Bud or Buzz of Buff from Back to the Future,  and the closet geniuses who have a confidence problem when it comes to their brain size, and then there's you, Neal. You are niether. You are as average as a jock gets. Sure, you're 6'4'', gorgeous, and build like the sleekest freight train this side of the Atlantic, but you're utterly predictable - IF ONLY I KNEW HOW!

Sincerely,
The Boss

P.S. - Your socially-stunted underaged genius of a roommate is cute. Be more like Russell.

So, ya know the saying 'Life's a bitch and then you die'? Apparently, for me, inspiration has the same sick sense of humor. I had months - MONTHS- where I literally had nothing I had to do every day except go to opera lessons once a week. NOTHING. And, of course, that meant any and all artistic inspiration, be it singing, writing, painting, whatever, was gone.

Now that I have a full scedule 7AM Monday to 8AM Friday with the weekends for nothing but homework (I have  7-8 sections due a week in Math and that's only one of three classes), I have more inspiration than I know what to do with. Oh well. At least it means I'm getting something done, writing wise, even though it's only about 500 word here or there. I've finally gotten a start - like a WHOA, REAL START, not just 'eeeeeeeeh, pretend' - on my original Superhero-verse. I hope some of my DC buddies will pity a poor fellow writer and comment once it's up, but it'll be awhile; a few weeks at the very least. I'm writing it in an 'episode' format, so each piece of the story is also a whole story in itself.

So, um, yay for writing, boo for not working on the fics I have stalling in the wings, and I hope you have room in your hearts for a whole new cast of capes.