Dear Joaquin,

I'm trying to be supportive. Really I am. I'm not one of those girls who walks away from someone during difficult times. Believe me. I've been a die-hard Houston Astros fan practically my entire life and lord knows they've broken my heart on numerous occasions. I still get a little misty thinking about 2005, but I digress. 

Joaq, Joaq, Joaq...I don't know how much more I can give. You wanted to quit acting and I was okay with that, difficult as it might have been for me to accept. You have such an amazing presence on screen. I can understand you feeling slighted. Twice you've been nominated for an Oscar and twice you MORE than deserved it. But you were overlooked. Once because Benecio Del Toro was the "it" boy in Traffic and once because Philip Seymour Hoffman, who I will admit is usually good but in this film was horribly overrated, was getting irritating amounts of praise for portraying probably the easiest person (squirrelly little man that he was) in the world to imitate. No one will ever convince me that Hoffman deserved the Oscar more than you that year (just like no one will ever convince me that Tommy Lee Jones deserved the Oscar for playing practically the same character he plays in all his films more than Leonardo Di Caprio did for Gilbert Grape). 

I also know that it's easy to get bored doing the same job for as many years as you have. And it could be just as easy to harbor negative feelings toward an industry that, in some part, took your brother from you. Fine. I get that. You wanted to take up music. I get that too. You can't have played Mr Cash as beautifully as you did and not have remnants of his character seeping through your veins. 

But this is what it's come to, Joaquin? Rap? Seriously? Rap? It's gonna be like this, is it? I don't hate rap. I actually have some rap in my music collection. And not just old school Will Smith stuff either. I have some Nelly. Ok, he's not exactly hardcore either but the point is, I'm fine with rap. But what you're doing...Sweetie, that's not rap. You're up on stage looking like a homeless Mexican jumping bean. Your lyrics (rhymes?) are barely intelligible. And then you're falling off the stage too. They're calling you "Joke P" on the internet for goodness sake!! 

I don't know what else I can do, Kitten. I'm truly at a loss. I am nothing if I'm not loyal. Suffice it to say this isn't your third strike or anything. It may only be your first...I'm still debating on whether or not to hold the "is there a frog on my head" conversation against you or not. 

I'm still here for you, but keep in mind there is an Englishman with rock-n-roll genes who suits my nerdy fancy, a Scottish Doctor who has cool toys and likes to travel, and a Houston Astro all poised to receive a piece of my heart.