Letter to my 16-year-old self...

Not that i would have actually listened, mind you… but a stumble into dearme triggered the thought exercise.  Exactly what would i have told myself at 16 that might possibly have made a difference?  Who knows…  here’s my best guess after a couple glasses of bourbon.

Dear 16-year-old daisyfae,

Christ.  Where do i start?  First off, lose the flannel shirts and owl glasses, ok?  You bear a frightening resemblance to Neil Young.  While you take some solace in this, and it may feed the deeply buried socialist songwriter hiding underneath that case of Oreos you snarfed down in your bedroom last night?  It’s not particularly attractive.

Those glasses. Seriously. What the fuck were you people thinking?

Off the top of my head:

- You are an athlete and a dancer, despite the fact that the mirror tells you otherwise.  Somewhere in your 30′s you’re going to figure this out, but it will be a tad late to start formal training.  Join the fucking swim team.  You are built for it, and are a natural.  Take some dance lessons now.  So much easier than trying to find a “tap dancing” class for 40-somethings…

- Settling for a generic state university is a reasonable safety net, and will work out just fine.  However, those recruiters from MIT, Carnegie Mellon and the US Military Service Academies that come to visit you next year aren’t just being nice to you. Regarding the military academies?  You can do the push ups.  Trust me.   There will come a point in your career where you work with some folks who chased those dreams.  You will kick their ass.  It will annoy you that they’ve got the pedigree…

- He’s gay.  He never gets “un-gay”.  In fact, he’s going to wander off, and you’ll lose touch in a few years, despite the promises you’ve made to be best friends forever.  It’s not going to end well for him.  You didn’t make him gay.  He was wired that way from the start.  Stop using his gayness as an excuse as to why you’re inherently unlovable.  There are other reasons for that…

- Your sister, T?  She’s kind of a bitch.  The nastiness she throws your way?  Trying to keep the fact that she’s a lesbitarian under cover from the rest of the high school gang.  Once you busted her, she was terrified that you’d tell everyone at school.  You’ve got a long road ahead of you, helping keep her level… on the bright side?  She takes you to Bangkok and you get to see your first Thai drag queens with her…. and you successfully resist the urge to strangle her and throw her in a canal 10,000 miles from home. 

- That whole 18th birthday thing?  Probably the low point.  If you can avoid that roadtrip to northern Indiana?  Do it.  Things get better.  And not much worse… you’ll write about it someday, people will be stunned and wonder how the hell such an alignment of dark bullshit could hit a kid on her 18th… On the bright side?  You weren’t found dead in a landfill a month later…

- You escape the Trailer Park.  Seriously.  You get out of it.  Unfortunately, however, it doesn’t quite leave you.  There will be moments when you are choking down the urge to punch someone in a public place.  You will dance on tables.  The phrase “What are you lookin’ at, shithead?” may be enough to enrage you.  Trailer Park’s got long arms, and you make a promise that will be difficult to keep…  but you will.  i hope.

- Marriage?  Surprise!  You’re going to meet him in about 3 years… and believe it or not, you’ll be pretty damn ready to settle down!  That first year of university?  U-G-L-Y.  After hanging out for a week, you’ll move in and stick around for about 25 years.  He’s a good guy, you’re not really in love, but that’s ok.  He’s the only reason you survive undergrad, make it through grad school and don’t burn out in flames by the time you’re 20. 

- Children?  Get this – you have two, and they’re a riot!  Despite your complete allergy to babies, they survive the first few years, and you discover you actually like them as human beings.  Teaching them how to make “jello shots” may not win you any parenting awards, but bonding is bonding…

There’s a lot more, but it’ll be better as a surprise.  You end up having more fun than you expect.  You eventually learn to smile. Probably sold yourself short too many times, but chasing all those pesky dreams would have been work.  Fucking off.  It’s underrated.  Go with your strengths…

Yours,

47-year-old daisyfae

bought that guitar (epiphone 12-string) with babysitting money. i was robbed. it was piece of shit.

Ok.  Next round will be a rather acerbic rant directed at 30-something daisyfae.  She was Super-mom, the Wonder-Bitch.  i got a LOT more to say to her….

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

post inspired by sweary at coddlepot…