Letter To Me

If you could write a letter and send it back in time to yourself, what would you say? Let’s be a little realistic (despite the fact that we are talking about time travel) and assume you can’t send yourself stock tips or lottery numbers. Would you be practical or downright greedy? The possibilities are endless, and for me a several ideas come to mind.

September 22, 1995 “Watch out for the weakside linebacker blitz. If he hits you, your left knee is never going to be the same.”

November 4, 1998 “Stop drinking a half hour earlier, this hangover is going to be bad enough as it is, and the girl turns out to be an ugo."

July 12, 2001. “That blonde in the corner at Spyro, yes she’s looking at you, and you really need to go talk to her.”

July 13, 2001. “See, I told you so. And that missing bra is stuck behind the headboard.”

April 1, 2003. “Plan on buying Sam a really nice birthday gift this year, he’s about to bail your ass out of a mess you can’t even imagine.”

January 8, 2005. “Make sure you’re on AIM today. Trust me, the rest of your life depends on it.”

Anyone of these could have saved me countless headaches. But would it be worth it? What other effects would any of these small changes have had? Would the known reward be worth the unforeseen consequences? After careful reflection, the risk just wouldn’t be worth it. My letter would go something like this:

Past me,
This is you 10 years from now. I’ve been trying to figure out what advice to give you to make our life turn out better, and I’ve only come up with this. The next 10 years of your life is going to be a wild ride, but don’t change a damn thing. Live it up, enjoy it all, and drink enough to pickle an elephant. There will be a regret or two (or eight), but it’s all worth it. Trust me, you’ll thank me later.

Future you.

P.S. On second thought, there is one thing. Don’t pee in Kevin’s shoes, he really didn’t find that one funny.