"500 Letters" by Tarja Turunen

Of all the 500 letters from a stranger that appeared on Tarja Turunen’s doorstep, I’ve written at least ten of them. Luckily for the both of us, she never saw them. Otherwise, she would either have a restraining order against me or she would send her husband Marcelo to collect my scalp. This semi-romantic obsession with the Finnish goddess started when I was reintroduced to Nightwish’s music in 2006 with the song “Dead Boy’s Poem”. A year before that, Tarja was released from Nightwish for not getting along with her band mates. I was heartbroken. In fact, my heart had been hurting for her throughout my college days. Granted, most of it was due to the fact my social life was nonexistent. Also granted, I didn’t have a girlfriend at the time. So in order to keep from feeling too lonely, the place I went to in my head to stop the pain was Tarja. Her hair, her face, her voice…everything. It was the only thing that got me through being away from my family for that long. If for some reason it sounds like I’m quoting Marty Deeks from NCIS: Los Angeles, it’s because I am (even though I didn’t have a drill shoved in my mouth like he did). During this obsession with Tarja, I tried my damnedest not to sound creepy when I wrote proses and poetry about her. But then again, anything I do automatically sounds creepy, so it’s a safe bet Mrs. Turunen should have been carrying a can of mace with her at all times. She probably does. Come to think of it, that’s part of the reason why I couldn’t approach anybody in school to be my friend or lover: I didn’t want to unknowingly creep them out. Using Tarja as a comforting mental image was the only safe bet because I knew she would never know me in a million years. In fact, I can pretty much say anything I want about any celebrity on this planet and they’ll never find me. Michael Vick sucks because he tortured puppies. Tarja Turunen is awesome because she makes beautiful music with or without her old band mates. If for some reason she read that, I also hope she reads this next sentence. Tarja, I am not a creep or a stalker. I’ve never been to your house and I don’t follow you on Twitter. Hell, I’ve never been to one of your concerts. But I want you to know that you are still to this day an inspiration to me. Your presence alone has helped me get through so much in my life. For whatever it’s worth, thank you for your gift of music. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get your picture tattooed all over my body like that guy in South America did for Julia Roberts. I’m kidding, of course. Really, I am!

　

***FACE BOOK POST OF THE DAY***

“There’s a new website out there where stalkers get their comeuppance. It’s called Mace Book and the homepage is a total eyesore.”

-Me-