Knock some sense into yourself

I met myself on a busy Philadelphia street. It was late afternoon, and I was buying Water Ice from Pop’s down on the coolest address in Philly: 1337 Oregon Avenue. [get it? 1337? Oh yes, I am a nerd.]

Twelve years old, dressed in black from head to tow, sarcastic and cynical, I was quite the sight to behold. So what does my 22 year old self say to 12 year old me?

Never be afraid to say what you feel or think, because you’re going to have a shitload of regrets when you don’t. Eventually you’ll get over them, but they’ll always haunt you. And when you feel a connection with someone, always, ALWAYS tell them.

Kiss that boy, damnit. Shyness is not cute when it makes you miserable. Don’t repeat my mistakes. Don’t date a guy for two years and let him get away with never kissing you once. Yeah, he’ll be a ton of fun. Yeah, you’ll care about each other. But it’s not love. Especially when he won’t kiss you because he doesn’t want to get close. He’s right that you’ll leave him behind and go to college. But get your act together and live, damnit! Don’t be me: a college graduate whose never been in a real relationship, let alone hooked up with or even kissed anyone.

Learn to open up. Don’t wait until you’ve had three nervous breakdowns to realize that keeping everything to yourself is a bad idea. You are going to experience terrible things. Lots of death: both slow and horrible and quick and accidental. Your entire childhood will be turned upside down. You’ll be dragged through hell and back like a see-saw. It’s NOT good to bare all of that on your own. It’s okay to act your age and ask for help. Or just find someone to listen.

Cut your hair. I don’t care how much twelve year old me loved having hair so long it went all the way down her back. You freakin’ look better when it’s shorter and just past the shoulders.

Get your hands x-rayed. Yeah, this is a weird one, but sometime between six years old and fifteen years old I broke both my wrists and didn’t think it hurt enough to complain about it. By the time my doctors took an x-ray because I had pain from a week-old injury, my radii had long since healed themselves incorrectly. Breaking a bone into three parts and letting it set itself isn’t good. It will cause a lifetime of pain. Especially when you manage it on two hands!

Stop being a cold-hearted bitch. You know you’re not. You know you’re.. how did Shy put it? A “sweetie pie.” So don’t scare the world away.

Learn to study. Yes, you’re a freakin’ genius. Everyone knows it. You coast through school doing nothing, getting Fs at mid-terms, and then doing a little work and pulling your 62% failing grade to anywhere from 80-95%. I know. So why the hell don’t you just work a little all year? You’ll coast through school, get a 4-year academic scholarship to an excellent university, and then have NO DAMN CLUE what to do in college. Study? YOU? Blasphemy! Right up until you choke and lose your scholarship and barely pass your classes because you still refuse to open a book or do ANY kind of studying. Good job.

Lastly, I’d say, “You’ve traveled the world. Seen 19 different countries. Learned one foreign language and are well on the road to learning another. Drag raced a Camero and won. Made a two-time heavyweight champion of the world cry. Wowed audiences with your original fiction. Had your heart broken by everyone you ever cared for. Lost most of the people you loved. And learned that following your gut will never, ever lead you down the wrong path. And you’re only 22 years old. So chill out, and don’t hate the world and yourself. Because you’ll find out it just doesn’t get better than you, in this lifetime.

And what would my twelve year old self say to me?


“Leave me alone.”

“I can’t believe you cut my hair.”

“You’ve NEVER had a real boyfriend?”

“I can see why no one wants you.”

“Go away.”




Yep. I sure was a “sweetie pie” when I was a kid =P