Dear me, or: Back to the Future
Oct. 20th, 2008 06:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
penfield"I don’t know what the secret to success is, but I know the secret to failure is trying to please everybody."
- Bill Cosby
As part of my weekend-long stroll down memory lane, I shared dinner with a dear old high school friend -- the young woman who introduced me to roller coasters and show choir and Anaphylactic shock -- whom I am almost pleased to say looks even better after a dozen years than I do.
Predictably, we got around to talking about our high-school-senior selves and all the mistakes those idiots made. (Tight-rolling jeans? What were we thinking?)
And with regard to those idiots, we talked about the advice we would give them if we had the opportunity. My letter might have gone something like this:
Dear My 1995 Self:
I am writing this letter from 2008. I know you must have a lot of questions; let me ease your mind right away by telling you that the entire world has gone to hell and you can't open a daily newspaper without confronting the urge to throw yourself in front of a bus. But I don't want to give away any spoilers. There's nothing you can do about it, anyway.
But, over the next thirteen years, you are going to make some errors in judgement. You're going to be romantically involved with some wrong people, take some stupid college classes and make some foolish purchases. Your bones and other body parts will be broken. Certain people will let you down. And just wait until you see 2001.
You probably want specifics. I could give you specifics, specifics that would make your head spin. But I'm not going to. Yes, it would spare you a lot of pain but it would also spare you invaluable experience. Trust me, it will make you stronger. Not wiser, probably, but stronger.
I regret that I have no great wisdom to bestow upon you. I have to be honest, I'm still learning a lot of this shit myself. I will only tell you this:
Relax.
See, I know you, 1995 Me. I know you better than you know yourself. As you read this, you're probably stressing or sweating or huffing or puffing about something. (Random note: excessive stress contributes to premature hair loss. Just something to think about.) This is the time of your life and you are going to enjoy it a lot more if you don't take it so seriously.
Do the same things. Make the same mistakes. Take the same chances. And don't worry about them so much. Things are going to be okay.
But sometime around May of 2008, you may want to reinvest your 401(k) money in cash, whiskey and something called "Paxil."
Keep your chin up, self.
[Enchanted Pants]
- Bill Cosby
As part of my weekend-long stroll down memory lane, I shared dinner with a dear old high school friend -- the young woman who introduced me to roller coasters and show choir and Anaphylactic shock -- whom I am almost pleased to say looks even better after a dozen years than I do.
Predictably, we got around to talking about our high-school-senior selves and all the mistakes those idiots made. (Tight-rolling jeans? What were we thinking?)
And with regard to those idiots, we talked about the advice we would give them if we had the opportunity. My letter might have gone something like this:
Dear My 1995 Self:
I am writing this letter from 2008. I know you must have a lot of questions; let me ease your mind right away by telling you that the entire world has gone to hell and you can't open a daily newspaper without confronting the urge to throw yourself in front of a bus. But I don't want to give away any spoilers. There's nothing you can do about it, anyway.
But, over the next thirteen years, you are going to make some errors in judgement. You're going to be romantically involved with some wrong people, take some stupid college classes and make some foolish purchases. Your bones and other body parts will be broken. Certain people will let you down. And just wait until you see 2001.
You probably want specifics. I could give you specifics, specifics that would make your head spin. But I'm not going to. Yes, it would spare you a lot of pain but it would also spare you invaluable experience. Trust me, it will make you stronger. Not wiser, probably, but stronger.
I regret that I have no great wisdom to bestow upon you. I have to be honest, I'm still learning a lot of this shit myself. I will only tell you this:
Relax.
See, I know you, 1995 Me. I know you better than you know yourself. As you read this, you're probably stressing or sweating or huffing or puffing about something. (Random note: excessive stress contributes to premature hair loss. Just something to think about.) This is the time of your life and you are going to enjoy it a lot more if you don't take it so seriously.
Do the same things. Make the same mistakes. Take the same chances. And don't worry about them so much. Things are going to be okay.
But sometime around May of 2008, you may want to reinvest your 401(k) money in cash, whiskey and something called "Paxil."
Keep your chin up, self.
[Enchanted Pants]
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1995
Date: 2008-10-21 09:18 pm (UTC)