I found a letter today that I wrote to myself in seventh grade as part of an assignment, though I received it in the mail about two years ago. On the envelope: bubbly letters slanting across the white space. My former self would be dismayed to learn that her future counterpart still cannot reliably write in a straight line. There are six 37 cent stamps splayed haphazardly across the top right (re: entire top edge) to account for any possible inflation; apparently, I had very little faith in the stability of the US Postal Service.
Inside, I waste no time in challenging myself; "I'm sure that you are completely baffled right now. You probably don't remember writing this. Well, you did." The snappy attitude continues as I describe a recent trip to a cafe in town. The cheeseburger was so unimpressive, so "just okay", that I toss it and its equals (algebra class, cafeteria offerings) between a set of parentheses and move on to my first experience with public transportation and all its "temperamental people".
A line or two later, it becomes evident that my tribulations with math, and perhaps metaphysics, began at a young age. ("Who decided that five plus five equals ten, anyway?") But I finally find something better than "just okay" in science class. I conducted a botanical experiment, noting duly that the control fared the best. History was, "so easy, you could be asleep all year and still pass." This is a more literal truth than you think, and I recall my teacher conducting 'guided' dream sessions. Speeding onward, I weave in and out of Spanish, "or should I say...espanol." In describing my technology classes, I meticulously remember to include every one of Microsoft Office's registered trademark notations in what I can only assume is a cheeky attempt to thwart all the tort-hungry copyright litigators scanning my mail. Then, gym class. "I loathe [it]". There are seven underlines, just so I don't ever forget it (I haven't). I liked language arts very much, however. I loved to write. You know, "because I know a lot about correct grammar usage and stuff."
I also have a few words for the College Board. I took the SAT's for some reason, hilariously scoring only 350 points lower than when I took them for real. I wish myself good luck for this future date, and sincerely hope for my own sake that, "they'll put paragraphs in there next time that don't put you to sleep." I am sad to report that I haven't completely lived up to my career goals of becoming a botanist-zoologist-editor-reporter-animalcaretaker. (I have only been four of those things.)
The following paragraphs are riddled with non sequitur's.
"Dana, do you remember your friends? My favorite color is yellow."
...and irony,
"My favorite show is CSI. Is it still on? Probably not by then."
"I've got at least seven more years' worth of puns here, guys. At least."
"Did I get rid of that stupid, old computer yet?"
Nope.
"I am currently growing experimental cosmos in my room. Do you still like plants?"
If only you knew.
And the ending:
"I thoroughly enjoyed writing this letter. In case you were wondering, it feels weird to address yourself."
Do you know what else feels weird? Holding, in tangible form, proof that even through drastic change there are some parts of you that will always remain the same.
Sounds of 2004.
Arcade Fire- Wake Up
Joanna Newsom-Book of Right On
Iron & Wine- Each Coming Night
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