Friday, September 21, 2007
Dear Me,
It is twenty eight years in your future now, and I am writing back to try to warn you about somethings. I hope I can reach you, and I hope you can make the changes. First, the only interesting things that will happen to you will be outside of a classroom. And they won't happen at frat parties, that's for damn sure. Or at the library. Get out in the woods sometimes. Or the mountains. By this point in your life, I hardly even remember college. Sure, I know where it was, and when, and what I studied, and I have almost paid off the loans. But other than that, it doesn't matter. The things I do remember are waking up in a sleeping bag with frost on the inside of the tent over my face, and new snow out on the ground. And eating chewy oatmeal from the pot because we didn't cook it on the stove long enough. And looking out of the tent thinking, "Man, it sure looks cold out there, I wonder how long I can lay here before I have to get up and put my boots on so I can take a whiz."
You won't remember the parties, you won't remember most of what you study, you'll hardly remember any girlfriends or stuff like that.
Don't misunderstand me -- you should go to college, because it beats working. But the people you will run into there are no better than the ones you hate now. Like that guy in your dorm, Will Cooper, who always asks you what you got on the Chemistry test. If you knew what happens to him after college, you would pity him as much as you hate him. Or the guy who wishes he was a hippy but was born thirty or forty years too late. I mean really, tye-died t-shirts and John Lennon glasses, in this day and age? He might as well where spats and a monocle. Or those sorority girls that share a room at the end of the hall? Sure, they're hot now, but wait five years. First their cheeks and chin start to sag. Then they put on ten pounds, then twenty. Then the hair gets put up in some short, sensible thing. Before you know it, they'll look like your mom. And the whole time they'll just talk about hair and shoes. So don't get too hung up on them. In fact, none of them are any good.
In fact, looking back now, I would go so far as to say, if you meet someone who doesn't seem crazy, it's only because you don't know him well enough yet.
My advice to you is this: Buy a gun and hide.
Sincerely,
You
It is twenty eight years in your future now, and I am writing back to try to warn you about somethings. I hope I can reach you, and I hope you can make the changes. First, the only interesting things that will happen to you will be outside of a classroom. And they won't happen at frat parties, that's for damn sure. Or at the library. Get out in the woods sometimes. Or the mountains. By this point in your life, I hardly even remember college. Sure, I know where it was, and when, and what I studied, and I have almost paid off the loans. But other than that, it doesn't matter. The things I do remember are waking up in a sleeping bag with frost on the inside of the tent over my face, and new snow out on the ground. And eating chewy oatmeal from the pot because we didn't cook it on the stove long enough. And looking out of the tent thinking, "Man, it sure looks cold out there, I wonder how long I can lay here before I have to get up and put my boots on so I can take a whiz."
You won't remember the parties, you won't remember most of what you study, you'll hardly remember any girlfriends or stuff like that.
Don't misunderstand me -- you should go to college, because it beats working. But the people you will run into there are no better than the ones you hate now. Like that guy in your dorm, Will Cooper, who always asks you what you got on the Chemistry test. If you knew what happens to him after college, you would pity him as much as you hate him. Or the guy who wishes he was a hippy but was born thirty or forty years too late. I mean really, tye-died t-shirts and John Lennon glasses, in this day and age? He might as well where spats and a monocle. Or those sorority girls that share a room at the end of the hall? Sure, they're hot now, but wait five years. First their cheeks and chin start to sag. Then they put on ten pounds, then twenty. Then the hair gets put up in some short, sensible thing. Before you know it, they'll look like your mom. And the whole time they'll just talk about hair and shoes. So don't get too hung up on them. In fact, none of them are any good.
In fact, looking back now, I would go so far as to say, if you meet someone who doesn't seem crazy, it's only because you don't know him well enough yet.
My advice to you is this: Buy a gun and hide.
Sincerely,
You
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Introduction
My intention for this space is to create a series of letters, as if sent from me, in the year 2029, to a younger me in the year 2008 (and mistakenly received in the year 2007). It is intended in jest, but hopefully there is a glimmer of truth underneath.
Dear Me,
I hope you receive this. I am writing on Google Time-Tunneler, but it is a Beta edition. It has been a Beta edition for eight years, and I can't wait any longer. There are a lot of complaints about this system. It seems like ever since Google bought Microsoft they have just gone downhill.
Anyway, it is 2029 and if this goes as planned, you will receive this in 2008, just after you have started college. You have discovered by now that you didn't get in to your first choice, but believe me you are better off. It isn't worth the price tag. You don't need designer clothes, and you don't need a designer university.
The most important thing I have to tell you is, trust your instincts. That about sums it up. Like that English teacher you had in high school. You knew she was a nasty, bitter, petty woman the first day she scowled at your class. And your parents said, "She's just trying hard at a tough job," and "she means well". You found out last year that wasn't true, but believe it or not you are going to run in to her again, in twelve years, and she's going to want a favor from you. She won't even remember your name or what you look like, but she'll pretend she does, and she'll ask you for something as if you had a lot of fun in her class and learned a lot. Your judgment was right. She is a creepy, nasty, bitter person.
But so are most of them. Trust your instincts. When you meet someone who seems normal, you just don't know them very well yet. Give them time.
Like your roommate freshman year: he downloads porn on your laptop. Erase it before Becky finds it.
A few other tips:
On October 12th, you are going to be leaving a party when a guy named Dave is going to pull out a bottle of bourbon. Say no.
Heather in your Western Civ class is a sucker for anything with Tequila in it. The sooner you find that out, the better.
Date nerd girls: they're grateful and desperate.
Anyway, I will send more info when I have time. But trust your instincts. They are all crazy.
Sincerely,
Me
Dear Me,
I hope you receive this. I am writing on Google Time-Tunneler, but it is a Beta edition. It has been a Beta edition for eight years, and I can't wait any longer. There are a lot of complaints about this system. It seems like ever since Google bought Microsoft they have just gone downhill.
Anyway, it is 2029 and if this goes as planned, you will receive this in 2008, just after you have started college. You have discovered by now that you didn't get in to your first choice, but believe me you are better off. It isn't worth the price tag. You don't need designer clothes, and you don't need a designer university.
The most important thing I have to tell you is, trust your instincts. That about sums it up. Like that English teacher you had in high school. You knew she was a nasty, bitter, petty woman the first day she scowled at your class. And your parents said, "She's just trying hard at a tough job," and "she means well". You found out last year that wasn't true, but believe it or not you are going to run in to her again, in twelve years, and she's going to want a favor from you. She won't even remember your name or what you look like, but she'll pretend she does, and she'll ask you for something as if you had a lot of fun in her class and learned a lot. Your judgment was right. She is a creepy, nasty, bitter person.
But so are most of them. Trust your instincts. When you meet someone who seems normal, you just don't know them very well yet. Give them time.
Like your roommate freshman year: he downloads porn on your laptop. Erase it before Becky finds it.
A few other tips:
On October 12th, you are going to be leaving a party when a guy named Dave is going to pull out a bottle of bourbon. Say no.
Heather in your Western Civ class is a sucker for anything with Tequila in it. The sooner you find that out, the better.
Date nerd girls: they're grateful and desperate.
Anyway, I will send more info when I have time. But trust your instincts. They are all crazy.
Sincerely,
Me
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