An Open Letter to My Younger Self

With the amazing technological advances being made every day, I’m positive time travel will be possible very soon. To prepare for this inevitability, I have drafted a letter to Young Lance to share what I have learned along the way.

Dear Young Lance,

I know it must be strange getting a letter from your future self. Trust me, it’s a little strange writing it. As I write this, I (you) am 31 years old. I know, trippy isn’t it? There is no way for me to know how old you are when you get this, so I will try and cover all the bases.

First, let me give you a little primer on what your life will be like in the year 2007. It may not be what you expect, but it’s pretty awesome. Unfortunately, you do not become a professional basketball player, which might come as a shock if you are reading this between the ages of 10 and 14. After about 14 it starts to become pretty clear where your future as an athlete is headed. Also, I should mention that you do not become a juvenile delinquent either, which should come as a surprise to your (our) parents. Actually, you are a professional writer at a tech company in Austin. You probably already feel the tug of writing, so that may not come as a surprise. Keep at it, it serves us well. You work in a cubicle though, but it’s not as bad as it seems.

Now let’s get to the important stuff. If you haven’t noticed already, girls can be quite a distraction. Leave them alone until you get to college (SFA, by the way). It’s doubtful you’ll listen to me, even though nobody is better suited to give you advice, but the girls worth knowing don’t come along until after prom. Sorry dude.

Chances are you’ve already met Craig. Keep him close, he’s one of just a handful of truly steadfast friends you’ll come across. He’s an average basketball player, but it might do you well to teach him the difference between personal fouls and flagrant fouls. When he asks if you want to go to Big Bend for Spring Break, say yes. When he asks if you want to try rollerblading, say no.

Love on your grandparents because by the time you’re my age they’re all gone.

Don’t sweat the SATs. SFA has really reasonable standards and it’s perfectly suited for you. Don’t do the potluck roommate thing though. A whole year is a long time to bunk with Charlie the Ambiguously Gay Roommate. Don’t bother with those criminal justice classes either, all they accomplish is delaying graduation by a semester. When a girl named Donna asks you about some class you have together, play it cool because she’s the one.

Finally, you’ll never “feel” like a grown-up. You (we) haven’t outgrown comic books, cartoons or video games and I think that’s a good thing.

I hope this has been helpful.

Sincerely,
Old Lance