Letter to my Senior Self

While my dad was cleaning out the basement today he came across an unopened envelope addressed to me, in my handwriting. Inside was a letter I wrote to myself in ninth grade English class to be sent to me and opened up my senior year of high school. I was surprised at how differently my life has turned out and now that I'm approaching my senior year of college, I thought I'd share a few excerpts of my insights as a 14 year old...along with some running commentary by me, 7 years later.

I wrote it on September 10, 2001 (yup, one day before 9/11...crazy).

At this stage in my life I have blond haiar. It's slowly getting darker from the roots out. I blow-dry it straight down and I clip back some of my bangs.

(Liz, shut up!) I hate changing my hair, for the record. But I wound up having to highlight it blond this past year because it got so dark!

I weigh about 105 pounds and I'm 5'3" tall...I try to dress comfortably instead of always wearing what is currently in style.

2 inches and 20 pounds later....and I definitely think about what I wear more these days.

I spend my time these days reading and spending time with my friends...I love to eat anything spicy. My favorite subjects in school are physics and gym.

Well, the first two sentences are still accurate. I loved gym, but I don't remember ever liking physics that much...

Much has happened in the past year to our world. George W. Bush is our new president and he is struggling to find ways to deal with our slumping economy. The Palestinians and Israelis are still at war. A young girl was struck by a car while trying to cross a busy street in my neighborhood. Over the summer, security cameras were installed in the hallways of PBHS.

Funny how some things don't change at all...


I have been thinking about my choice in friends and whether or not they are really the type of people that I should be hanging out with.

Wow. If I only knew how right I was back then.


I would love to some day become an astronomer and attend a top college like Harvard or Yale. By my senior year of high school I would like to have gotten straight A's on my report card at least five times.

God, I was a freaking dork! I'm a lot happier as a budding teacher than I think I would have been had I accomplished the goals I set for myself back then. I forgot that I didn't really get dead-set on teaching English until AP Language and Composition my junior year.


Those are the highlights, I guess. I think this is something I'd be interested in doing with my students in a few years. I'd probably make it a little less contrived...it reads like a fill-in-the-blanks sort of assignment.

whoa.

Ever written something quickly, forcefully, with so much emotion that you look back on it and scare yourself?

That just happened to me. I may have just had the most intense writing experience of my life.

And I think it just made me fall in love with my words all over again.

One of my friends from high school might have cancer.


And no, I'm not okay.

Friday Five: On Me

1) what is one thing about you that you hate?

That I can't stick up for myself. It is hard for me to conflict with anyone, because I am afraid of people being mad at me. Product of my childhood, I suppose.

2) what is one thing about you that you love?

My humility. It keeps me grounded. I am always striving to be better. Unfortunately, though, I have a hard time accepting compliments because I always feel like I should have done more.

3) if you had to change one thing about you what would it be and why?

I would want to be more aggressive about doing what I want. I don't always look out for myself. I tend to fall into situations where I know I will get hurt so that someone else will be happy.

4) what is one word that you would use to define yourself?

self-less. It may be my biggest flaw, but I'd do anything for the people I care about.

5) imagine what you would look like in a perfect world...what do you look like?
I kind of like the way I am. Maybe a little more toned, with skin that can actually HOLD a tan!

No wonder my self-worth seems to have gone down the shitter. This house is truly taking everything.

Hiatus

A lot has happened in the past week. A lot.

I need time to process, but I'll be back...I promise!!!

Roadtrip

Today, for the first time in over three weeks, I had a day off work. After some friendly deliberations, Liz and I decided to head to SMCM in Southern MD, where I went to college during my freshman year.

It was important to me that she see the campus. I don't think you can fully understand who I am and how much I have grown since high school graduation without spending some time at SMCM. I may have left after just a year, but the school has always remained a very special place to me.

The views were spectacular today. The sun seemed to hit the water at just the right moments, making me question how I could really have walked away from such a beautiful place. My mind was blazing with memories wherever we walked. I had lost sight of just how much had happened to me there.

My favorite part of the day was sitting behind Trinity Church, overlooking the river on all sides. I didn't feel as though words were needed to explain how happy I felt to be there at that moment. I felt alive, comfortable. I blame the breezes coming off the water (ha..ha...), but I definitely teared up at one point from just being there again.

I felt a little overwhelmed a few times, realizing how far away my year down there seems. My life has changed a lot since then. But I am definitely more appreciative of where I am now after having seen (one more time) where I've been. And I am so happy that I got to share a special place with someone who's become equally special to me.

Some stuff I wrote last night.

Nothing's been edited. I'm afraid that if I go back over it, I'll wuss out and leave it in its hand-written form. So here's what I wrote, straight from my brain to the page in the purest way.

There are times when I still glimpse you out of the corner of my eye. I feel as though there should be a fleeting happiness, a skipping heart, a flushed face. But what springs upon me is fear. I am afraid that one look, one moment, will make me fall again. I am afraid to hurt. To cry. To reopen wounds that I have haphazardly tied shut with strings of self-pity and insecurity. Most of all, I am frightened by your ability to make me write words like these, even after so much time has passed us by.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Softly, trembling, her fingers trace the outline of her self-portrait.
Tears of pride fall and mix with those that have come before--of sadness, love, fear, anger, desperation, fatigue, regret--
Smudging the outline she had so carefully crafted for herself so many years ago.
Her eyes rest on that head, housing
That ever-questioning, exploring mind.
Tapping the page knowingly, she smiles,
Seeing the journey stretched out behind her, the echoes of past moments not so easily forgotten.
There. There are the hands that have caressed, calmed, collided, and carried.
The legs that have run, rushed, and reached.
Her gaze moves to the heart, so often edited and erased.
She peels back the layers she has glued and taped over it,
Feeling the pain of seeing all of her past mistakes laid out tangibly before her.
Blindly, fearfully even, she reaches for the scissors,
Cuts out that heart, cuts away the rest,
Because the feelings matter more than the body parts she used to create them.
She closes her hand around that tiny heart,
Placing it up against her own,
The real life,
Beating version.
She will be okay. She knows that now.

A Let-Down

I just found a stack of journals in my room. I remember buying them all, in the hopes that I'd fill them up quickly with thoughts, poetry, and song lyrics. When I flip through them, they are blank. All but one. I need to start writing by hand again. It's the only way I can produce anything worth being proud of.

I think my basic plan is to write something in one of those books, then put it up here.

Because, really, it's time for me to start revealing this other side of me. The one that I rarely have the courage to expose on here.

mirrors.

Why is it that someone else's pain so often reveals my own selfishness?

There are so many people out there with issues deeper than my own. I have to remember that when I go off about petty shit.

Leveling Out, and Some Cheese

We talked about the stars. How strange it was that we could see so many in my little suburban town. I was scared, not of him or of what was happening. That part felt natural. The fact that there was nothing wrong...that scared me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It is nice to see that the prayers I've been offering up for my friends are being fulfilled. I'm not sure I've gone into my theological beliefs on here before, but I've found that when I feel utterly helpless in my ability to help the people I care about, I pray for them at night before I go to sleep. I'm no hardcore Bible-thumper, but the only way I can feel at peace with myself and my relationships is to do this from time to time. Sometimes the only way I can feel in control is to give up control.

I wish I could say that my strength and will to fight comes from inside me, that I can just magically pull myself up by the metaphorical bootstraps and keep walking.

But that's bullshit.

It's you. And you don't even fully realize it, how much you've done and continue to do for me on a daily basis. I fight because I know you need me as much as I need you.

I've just finished wasting away my afternoon watching The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants...and crying my eyes out. After years of being teased for so much as even owning the movie, I usually only watch it by myself now. Something about the relationship those girls have with one another, it makes me miss what I used to have.

Those friendships are hard to come by these days. And while I certainly still have a best friend who I love dearly, it is getting progressively harder for me to watch movies or read books that remind me just how much I've lost.

I won't let myself be excited. But every so often, I find myself having to bite my lip to keep me from smiling.

Things I Do at Work...Instead of my Job

So here's the challenge, an idea stolen from this book :

Write a memoir of your life, something that sums it up, captures who you and where you are now, etc. The catch? You have to do it in just six words. No more, no less. Six. Those of you out there who write, try it out on your own blogs!

My Six Word Memoir:

My idealism no longer suits me.

GOOD LUCK!

Patterns

Just another collection of things I've written down lately. I've actually mustered up the guts to put this stuff online, soooo yeah.

"Here I am again. I should be used to this by now. The fear, the excitement; all bringing back memories of the days I couldn't breathe, move, or believe in myself. I'm used to running. Distance keeps me safe, keeps me sane, keeps the tears from falling. Fight or flight...which one will make me whole?"

This next one is actually a bit old...but it struck me reading it again...I called it Monster when I wrote it (late April), but I don't think I'm feeling that so much now.

"The broken chords rip-roar in that place where my dreams and my fears collide and explode, Into fragments of what could be, but won't. I stoop down under the frame of your expectations, Gingerly lifting the shards and putting them in my hand. The cracked and frayed lines of my palms are like pillows, Cradling what I have become. Broken. Shattered. Maybe even a little unrecognizable. The light that dances across the glass seems hollow, As if the fall from grace sucked out the life, And everything that used to gleam so brightly, Is only a reflection now, Projecting the shadows, What it sees in me."

And an ode to the guys, something I probably wrote after one of my bar excursions with my girls...

"They are so anxious to hunker down and bear in. No introduction, please, just straight to the sex, they say. Not the love. Not the hand-holding, kissing, cuddling. Just. the sex. None of the strings, none of the feeling, Hit it. Quit it. High-five from my buddy who worked it out with her tonight. Never mind that she was drunk. "She wanted me." I think it's just fear, no need to actually FEEL when on the prowl for your next lay. You finish. IT'S finished, But it's never actually over, Because the more you get, the more you want, And then, there's no one left to want YOU, If you even know who 'you' is these days. You're just like the other guy, and the one before that. So no, sorry, we are not hooking up tonight."

I wonder...maybe things do come around when we least expect them to. Or maybe the water brings out my romantic side.