Dear 15-year-old me,
It’s me. That is to say, it’s you, but from the FUTURE!
I’m writing to give you some perspective on the years ahead
of you, i.e. the years behind me. It’s 2020 now, and so much is different today
than it is for you in 1991.
In the coming years, a lot is going to happen. Some of it is
so insane, you probably won’t believe me. Then again, I’m assuming you’re going
to believe that this is a letter from the future, so I should probably maintain
this presumption of your gullibility for consistency’s sake. You were (are)
pretty naïve, as I recall.
I have been growing less patient lately.
“Less patient” is a euphemism I like to use in the place of “unnecessarily, irrationally full of rage.” Just like I used to say I was “freelance consulting” when I was actually “unemployed.” I think it sounds a little better.
My days seem to be filled with an unrelenting deluge of challenging situations. Things and people that would once evoke my empathy are instead triggering a strong desire to roundhouse kick someone in the head. This is problematic on several fronts, including my physical inability to lift my good kicking leg above my waist. Now I’m left with only my bad kicking leg to deliver the damage, and what kind of satisfaction would that bring? Significantly less, which frustrates me all the more.
I recently wrote about Donald Trump’s superhuman ability to completely insulate his psyche from both precedent and consequence. His deftness at detachment is, in fact, so advanced and so natural, I questioned if he might be an unknowing reincarnated Buddha. It’s an especially compelling argument when you consider that his skin is orange, and he shares a common physique with statuary Chinese restaurants’ entrances. Continue reading
You know when you spend some time being focused on anything, that “anything” seems to start appearing everywhere?
Like when you buy a Toyota, you start seeing your same Toyota all over the place. There were always Toyotas everywhere, you just didn’t notice them with the same acuity you do now.
For me, I accidentally glance at my watch or my phone at 11:11 all the time. When I was younger, I regularly assigned value and importance to coincidences, contrary to my otherwise logical nature. This idiosyncrasy was magnified in moments of emotional crisis. I had a lot of those moments as a younger man. Continue reading
I rarely feel anxiety anymore, at least not to the level that it affects my day-to-day life. I stress the word “anymore,” because for much of my life, my stomach was in a knot. As a sophomore in high school, I threw up almost daily. It wasn’t because I was physically sick. It was because my stress outpaced my coping mechanisms.
Sorry I disappeared for a few days, I took a quick little trip to Charleston, South Carolina. If you haven’t been there, it’s worth checking out if you have time. Tons of history. Very friendly people. Good food.
I’m back now, and ready to get you all back up to speed with more awesome, unsolicited advice.
If you’ve been reading the last few posts on how to apologize effectively, you might have screwed up majorly and you’re now looking for some advice on how to fix it. Or maybe you think I’m awesome and have a crush on me
Either is an acceptable reason to read on.