2009-09-14

The Last Birthday.

Today I am 39. I haven't decided yet whether or not I'm going to stop with this one, and be 39 until I'm 47 or whatever.

Not long ago I read a letter that Justin Bond wrote to his teenage self. This seems as appropriate a day as any to try on this little exercise.

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Dear Lisa,

I thought about starting this off by telling you to pull your head out of your ass and work harder at school, but the fact is that if you DO, and wind up someplace like Stanford (or even Brown) instead, you'll miss out on meeting the insane, wonderful people that will be your friends between 1988 and 1992. They're going to have more influence on you than nearly anyone you're hanging around now (except for Marc, probably, and his name is Raziel now, by the by). They will teach you about tolerance, and being open to new things, and one of them is going to confront you about your horrible habit of prefacing every sentence with "uh."

Right now, you're pretty adamantly anti-drinking. All I'll tell you there is that on THAT point, you're right. And I'll tell you that everything is going to be okay. Just know that.

I should probably just tell you right now that you're NOT going to be an actress. Well, you WILL be, but not in the sense that you're thinking. But you will get to work every day in theatre. You will never have to pay to see practically any show in the Greater Boston area, which is good, because you're going to spend most of your life, well, kind of broke. But what you will lack in terms of equity you make up for in a workplace that lets you pretty much wear whatever you want, and in work that results in the very thing you love so much right now (also: that scantron test you keep taking in the Career Center? The one that keeps saying you have "a strong preference for data"? Just go with it).

Stop worrying about whether or not other people like you. For God's sake, most of those people don't matter. And I'll tell you something: the people who are giving you crap about the way you dress either A) are totally jealous that you walk into that school every day looking the way you do, or B) are just as worried about people not liking them. You'll find this out because some of these people will actually seek you out to TELL YOU THAT.

Cut Mom and Dad some slack. They're going to let you be a theatre major, they're going to support you through some pretty heinous personal issues down the road, and they're going to appreciate and love you for EXACTLY who you are, tattoos, potty-mouth and all.

Finally -- stay out of the sun. You're not going to look 39 in large part because of this.

-Lisa

P.S. - Mike and Jon are still your friends.

P.P.S. - don't throw your diaries away. Ethan, Chrissy, Cheryl and Melissa are one day going to pay money to hear you read them.

P.P.P.S. - MySpace. It won't make sense to you now, but trust me: STAY AWAY.

lisamcc at 7:37 a.m.

3 comments so far
Westbye
2009-09-14 12:09:03
Beautifully done.
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Lynette
2009-09-14 14:34:42
I agree w/ Mr. Westbye. Can you write one to teen-Lynette? Tell her to drop her fascination with drummers. You rock, McC.
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Spooney
2009-09-14 20:53:04
Nice, Mine would be short and simple: Stay in school and earn a degree. Your mediocre musical talent will not make you a living.
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