A Blast from the Past

Dear eleven-year-old Shan,

When you open this letter, I would like you to find a nice, quiet room to read it in as it contains heavy criticism of your past and top-notch advice for your future. I write to you with nostalgia and regret. I miss the innocence that came along with the fifth grade life and at the same time, I feel such shame in my addiction to Webkinz and the recorder. Let us begin with a reflection of your past thus far. You have ratted out friends to Mr. Bondy for taking the possessions of their first love when you attempted the same thing. You have promised, but not executed, the entire Intermediate School population an extra pizza line to reduce waiting time. And finally, you have shown up to CAA basketball tryouts in a tight-fitted Abercrombie shirt. How do you feel about yourself, your life, and your poor decisions? I can tell you how it feels right now: embarrassing, degrading, and criminal- as criminal as wearing jeans skiing. First piece of advice: DO NOT PULL THOSE KIND OF STUNTS EVER AGAIN. They will haunt you and your friends will hold it over your head, forever. Yet, I cannot say you have completely messed up your life this far… Keep up the good work with finally learning how to spell you own middle name. Pat on the back for the astounding accomplishment, kid. I can already tell you will make it far. I could tell you that things get better from here, but they do not and I would hate to lie to myself. Next year you will proceed through a preppy phase in your dress game. Four out of five days in the week, you will wake up and layer three collared shirts on top of each other, “pop” the collar, and throw your hair into two slicked back ponytails. Not months after, you will change your mind and go for the Hot Topic sweatshirt that reads “PUNK! ROCK! REBEL!” in black and blue. Like any other teen in angst, your attitude will influence your outward appearance and however “depressed” or “Hannah Montana-y” you feel, one day you will look back and laugh at yourself. Rock out to Red Jump Suit Apparatus and cry to the Jonas Brother’s soundtrack- do not let anyone dictate your life or tell you that you have to fit into a certain mold. So concludes my second piece of advice: make yourself happy and stay comfortable in your own skin, no matter how ridiculous you may look or sound- you rock. Yes, I semi-respect you as an eleven-year-old but you should also notice a certain air that surrounds this letter. Soon you will understand my constant tone of condescension and identify yourself as one of the most sarcastic people you know. Many frown upon sarcasm but like me, you will use sarcasm in 98% of your conversation and laugh at your own jokes… everyday… shamelessly. If you can find humor in the darkest of days, I have faith in you and all of your abilities. Everything seems like the end of the world during the next few years but listen to my final shred of advice: take a nap, drink some tea, blink your eyes and no one will remember yesterday’s petty gossip. The road ahead looks treacherous and winding, but after middle school (I hate to break it to you- it sucks) it gets better day-by-day so keep your head held high.

Love always,

Eighteen-year-old you.

P.S. A last piece of awesome advice: invent a robotic personal assistant program, name it “Siri,” and sell the idea for billions of dollars to Steve Jobs of the Apple Company. You are very welcome.