Today, I received a letter in the mail from myself. It was an assignment from last year's English class. I'd been waiting for that letter for some time now, but when the time came to open it, I was somewhat apprehensive. Did I really want to read what I thought was important at the time? Was it going to be like reading silly diary entries from a younger self?
Turns out it wasn't so bad. It was actually bearable. Could have been better, could have been less dramatic, but, well, it doesn't matter now. What's written is written, and I learned something.
Turns out it wasn't so bad. It was actually bearable. Could have been better, could have been less dramatic, but, well, it doesn't matter now. What's written is written, and I learned something.
City Where You Live
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Room 2164
Desk across from the door
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Room 2164
Desk across from the door
Dear Archduchess,
Assuming you are still alive when you get this, I should probably inquire about the state of your health. But let us not waste time on formulae of politeness and social banter. If you permit a simple question, where are you now, and why? A university? But where? Have you triumphed over adversity and now have the joy (or possibly the harassment) of being a student at Famous Nerd School In Cambridge, MA? Or have you succumbed to maternal folly/wrath and moved back to France?
Your dreams at this very moment, in the last seconds of a fifth period English class, on the third day of your senior year, are many and colorful. You want to go to Famous Nerd School. You want to study genetics and biotechnology (though you are doubtful as to the meaning of "bioengineering"--does it refer to genes or machines?) You want to be a Prestigious(ish) National High School Award Recipient, but you are still waiting for the letter from the Money-Sucking Standardized Test Corporation which will determine whether or not you are a semifinalist. You want to get through this year without any major catastrophe. You want to 'someday' take a picture with Gus, High School Teacher Across The Street's gorilla, both in your graduation gowns*. You want to live love and friendship to the fullest with The Boy. I don't know what's happened to you both, but I wish you good luck.
Today, a year and a half ago from when you will receive, and hopefully read this, you are wearing a green "Love" shirt and the long, blue linen skirt that you love so much. And the new velvet brown ballerina flats. They hurt your feet a bit, but you will not say so, because you like wearing them. Even so, your left little toe hurts. On your right wrist, there is a small scar. You got it yesterday, but you do not know how or when. Perhaps a paper cut.
[later] School is now long over, and you are sitting by the window in your room, at Street Number, for the first time in a long time. Next to you stands Denise, the faithful moose. A bit farther are the glass ladybugs Bookish Friend brought you back from her trip to England during the spring break of junior year. You have just finished writing a pre-lab on pillbug kinesis for Biology, and are thinking of adding ladybug spots to your red lab goggles. The phone is ringing. Friend With Many Pairs Of Sunglasses drove you home today, after an announcement on the school P.A. said that the buses would leave earlier than usual. Tomorrow is the first Robotics meeting of the yer. I hope you do well in the competitions!
You wrote this letter in small, neat-ish letters. You do not know why. This is by no means your usual handwriting. But it looks pretty on the page. While you are writing this letter, you are thinking that you will write your senior teacher letter to Faraway Long Ago Teacher, your seventh grade English teacher. You believe that she has been the most influential teacher you have had in your life so far, aside from Twain-Obsessed Teacher. Also, she assigned you, like Current Teacher, a letter to write to your future self, to be mailed upon graduation. You regret never turning it in.
You know I will not proofread this letter, because then I would find something to change in it, a fallacy or grammar mistake, perhaps. And then I would have to rewrite it, and the spontaneity will be gone. It is better this way.
But enough talking about the you of the past. I want to talk about the me of the future. Take a moment and think about your life now. Are you happy? Do you see your future better now that you are in college? What does it feel like to be considered an adult, with your own decisions to make? When you think of me, do you scoff at my childishness, from the higher level you have reached by virtue of your age? Do you think back upon the time you were me, and shake your head at the sheer puerility of it all?
It doesn't matter, really. When you read this, I will be nothing more than a memory and a few photographs. I will be you, but you will never be me. Do not dwell on the past.
So I wish you good luck on your travels through life, and will look forward to having seen me in the past, being you in the future. Bon vent!
In the envelope were three quotes I'd collected from past years of papillotes, still smelling faintly of chocolate.
C'était si beau que j'ai fermé les yeux.
-Yvan Audouard
(It was so beautiful that I closed my eyes.)
La plus perdue de toutes les journées est celle où l'on a pas ri.
-Nicolas de Chamfort
(The most wasted of all days is the one where one has not laughed.)
L'absence diminue les médiocres passions, et augmente les grandes, comme le vent éteint les bougies, et allume le feu.
-La Rochefoucauld
(Absence diminishes mediocre passions, and increases the great ones, like the wind extinguishes candles, and lights fires.)
*Our neighbor-across-the-street owns a 2000-pound concrete gorilla lawn ornament, named Gus, whom he dresses up for various occasions. Around graduation, Gus wears a graduation robe and cap, and assorted groups of graduates can be seen taking pictures with him in their robes.
***
It used to be that, for the year or so that I kept a diary, I would reread my entries one or two months later and almost bang my head against the wall at the incredible shallowness of what I'd written. And thought that mostly, my parents were right in thinking I was an annoying teenager.
This is different.
It's surprising to see how many small changes have occurred since I wrote that letter, and how little difference it makes. I don't attend Famous Nerd School, I'm not so sure I want to study genetics anymore, the ladybugs and the Majestik Møøse Denise have moved to my room in the dorm, and my family trudges along with only four people when I'm not there. But, in my opinion, I've remained the same person. I've matured, yes, and I've experienced many things I did not even think possible at that time--my world has been shaken upside-down several times--but overall I still am me.
I like thinking that I was at least slightly like the person I thought I was in the past.
It's a good thing, isn't it?
(Yes, I obviously edited the names of people and places. It's what jo(e) does, and I really like her style. Plus, where would be the fun in giving away my identity?)
Assuming you are still alive when you get this, I should probably inquire about the state of your health. But let us not waste time on formulae of politeness and social banter. If you permit a simple question, where are you now, and why? A university? But where? Have you triumphed over adversity and now have the joy (or possibly the harassment) of being a student at Famous Nerd School In Cambridge, MA? Or have you succumbed to maternal folly/wrath and moved back to France?
Your dreams at this very moment, in the last seconds of a fifth period English class, on the third day of your senior year, are many and colorful. You want to go to Famous Nerd School. You want to study genetics and biotechnology (though you are doubtful as to the meaning of "bioengineering"--does it refer to genes or machines?) You want to be a Prestigious(ish) National High School Award Recipient, but you are still waiting for the letter from the Money-Sucking Standardized Test Corporation which will determine whether or not you are a semifinalist. You want to get through this year without any major catastrophe. You want to 'someday' take a picture with Gus, High School Teacher Across The Street's gorilla, both in your graduation gowns*. You want to live love and friendship to the fullest with The Boy. I don't know what's happened to you both, but I wish you good luck.
Today, a year and a half ago from when you will receive, and hopefully read this, you are wearing a green "Love" shirt and the long, blue linen skirt that you love so much. And the new velvet brown ballerina flats. They hurt your feet a bit, but you will not say so, because you like wearing them. Even so, your left little toe hurts. On your right wrist, there is a small scar. You got it yesterday, but you do not know how or when. Perhaps a paper cut.
[later] School is now long over, and you are sitting by the window in your room, at Street Number, for the first time in a long time. Next to you stands Denise, the faithful moose. A bit farther are the glass ladybugs Bookish Friend brought you back from her trip to England during the spring break of junior year. You have just finished writing a pre-lab on pillbug kinesis for Biology, and are thinking of adding ladybug spots to your red lab goggles. The phone is ringing. Friend With Many Pairs Of Sunglasses drove you home today, after an announcement on the school P.A. said that the buses would leave earlier than usual. Tomorrow is the first Robotics meeting of the yer. I hope you do well in the competitions!
You wrote this letter in small, neat-ish letters. You do not know why. This is by no means your usual handwriting. But it looks pretty on the page. While you are writing this letter, you are thinking that you will write your senior teacher letter to Faraway Long Ago Teacher, your seventh grade English teacher. You believe that she has been the most influential teacher you have had in your life so far, aside from Twain-Obsessed Teacher. Also, she assigned you, like Current Teacher, a letter to write to your future self, to be mailed upon graduation. You regret never turning it in.
You know I will not proofread this letter, because then I would find something to change in it, a fallacy or grammar mistake, perhaps. And then I would have to rewrite it, and the spontaneity will be gone. It is better this way.
But enough talking about the you of the past. I want to talk about the me of the future. Take a moment and think about your life now. Are you happy? Do you see your future better now that you are in college? What does it feel like to be considered an adult, with your own decisions to make? When you think of me, do you scoff at my childishness, from the higher level you have reached by virtue of your age? Do you think back upon the time you were me, and shake your head at the sheer puerility of it all?
It doesn't matter, really. When you read this, I will be nothing more than a memory and a few photographs. I will be you, but you will never be me. Do not dwell on the past.
So I wish you good luck on your travels through life, and will look forward to having seen me in the past, being you in the future. Bon vent!
The Archduchess
In the envelope were three quotes I'd collected from past years of papillotes, still smelling faintly of chocolate.
C'était si beau que j'ai fermé les yeux.
-Yvan Audouard
(It was so beautiful that I closed my eyes.)
La plus perdue de toutes les journées est celle où l'on a pas ri.
-Nicolas de Chamfort
(The most wasted of all days is the one where one has not laughed.)
L'absence diminue les médiocres passions, et augmente les grandes, comme le vent éteint les bougies, et allume le feu.
-La Rochefoucauld
(Absence diminishes mediocre passions, and increases the great ones, like the wind extinguishes candles, and lights fires.)
*Our neighbor-across-the-street owns a 2000-pound concrete gorilla lawn ornament, named Gus, whom he dresses up for various occasions. Around graduation, Gus wears a graduation robe and cap, and assorted groups of graduates can be seen taking pictures with him in their robes.
***
It used to be that, for the year or so that I kept a diary, I would reread my entries one or two months later and almost bang my head against the wall at the incredible shallowness of what I'd written. And thought that mostly, my parents were right in thinking I was an annoying teenager.
This is different.
It's surprising to see how many small changes have occurred since I wrote that letter, and how little difference it makes. I don't attend Famous Nerd School, I'm not so sure I want to study genetics anymore, the ladybugs and the Majestik Møøse Denise have moved to my room in the dorm, and my family trudges along with only four people when I'm not there. But, in my opinion, I've remained the same person. I've matured, yes, and I've experienced many things I did not even think possible at that time--my world has been shaken upside-down several times--but overall I still am me.
I like thinking that I was at least slightly like the person I thought I was in the past.
It's a good thing, isn't it?
(Yes, I obviously edited the names of people and places. It's what jo(e) does, and I really like her style. Plus, where would be the fun in giving away my identity?)
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