Mr. Baron's birthday

Dear Mother,

It almost pains me to attempt to record tonight's happenings. I feel as if I shall never become a proper lady, and more and more people get to see this for themselves. It may not seem as though I have any moral or empathetic capacity given my persistent behavior, but I do indeed feel remorse for letting down the family, neglecting to restore your noble status, and every other miserable thing I have ever done.
I returned to der Hut des Jaeger from my daily wanderings emptyhanded, with not a single poem to show Mr. Baron for his birthday. (Indeed, how could I invent--or find in a small, relatively unfamiliar place--a set of words fit for a ruler of nations? Yet, that was what was required of me...) I committed my first two faux pas before the party even started: I tried to hide on the roof until someone called me out on it, then tried to get down by flinging myself at my seat and fell off very ungracefully. There were a few witnesses to this, though Mr. Baron was not yet present. After this, in my most dramatic show of idiocy thus far, I did not notice the actual arrival of Mr. Baron himself at first. I shan't live that one down any time soon, I should think. Finally, when everything wound down, I don't think I was able to wish Mr. Baron a happy birthday before he was out of earshot. I am truly a terrible subject.
Because all of my follies are irreversible aspects of the past, that it might be best to focus on the positive. There was a lady present--a genie like in the Arabian Nights tales, but vaporous for some health-related reason--who referred to Mr. Baron as "Herr Hotness" with impunity. Though he may be the anthropomorphic personification of dignity, I get the impression that Mr. Baron has a high tolerance for the follies of those around him.
I was referred to as a "regular guest". I'm not sure what that entails. I hope I'm doing a proper job of it.
Several people wrote their own lyrics or modified existing ones to suit the occasion. They are very brave, in my opinion! One person even sang. I honestly believe that by the end of things, my lack of a contribution was not even noticed.
A thing I shall not soon forget about this evening was the presence of an absolutely perfect gentleman--and Heaven knows you did not raise me to abuse superlatives! (Of course, at first all I noticed was that everyone was making a fuss over his lack of hair, while I had never laid eyes on a male of his race and didn't know better. He seems to be of similar ancestry to Ms. Dreamscape and may also possibly be related to some of those whose portraits are on the walls. When I mentioned my inexperience with different races, someone suggested reading "the histories". She wasn't specific about what histories, though I'm pretty sure that Mr. Baron and at least one of the people in a wall portrait are mentioned in those graphical histories that the neighbors gave to Father, which mysteriously disappeared after I tried showed you the pretty princess on the cover of the second volume. So it might have been those. But I trust your judgment; if they are not to be read by impressionable little creatures like me, then impressionable little creatures like me shan't read them. This gentleman eventually passed around a photograph of what he looked like before the haircut anyhow, so now I know how he is "supposed to" look.) His name was Captain Veles, a solider under Mr. Baron. After the initial perplexity at coming across someone new to me, I could not help but notice his manners, which I believe are suggestive of exquisite breeding. Now, do not mistake me! Of all the horrible things one might fall into, I would gladly choose fire and acid and poison over love! I merely, humbly, submit that it may be beneficial to the family to research the marital, social, and financial statuses of his near kindred in light of the estimable heritage suggested by his behavior. (In any case, he says he is "just going on six hundred", so he himself most likely already has a most charming bride.)
One person showed up with a cheese gun, about which I became a bit curious. Then when I realized that I didn't yet own any real defensive weapons, I was assured that cheese guns are much more practical to use when friends are about, so I suppose self-defense is not as high a priority in these parts as I had imagined. That is a relief, as I'd been wandering around paranoid all the time.
The end of the party was rather confusing. People kept disappearing into thin air. I guess it's what happens when a bunch of Sparkpeople set their minds to transportation problems, but it certainly takes some adjustment for newcomers. In Boston a person might fetch their hat and coat and walk in the direction of the door; here they mention that they will be leaving shortly, then suddenly just vanish. It's difficult to bid them farewell in a timely enough manner. How do they get used to this?
Mother, while it cannot be denied that I've failed miserably at this whole socialization thingy, it must be said that the folks here, from the highest to the lowest, are inhumanly graceful about such matters. Please take that into consideration when you decide what must be done with your wild little lady.

Love forever,
Your Shaqad