Letters to the Past
Talking to yourself in the future has already been attempted, so today I'm gonna take a time out to send this time machine backwards. I'm pretty sure this is a therapy-esque exercise but hey, who isn't a little emotionally unsound. I live in a first world country, I've got nothing but time to worry about being unhappy.
Dear 12 year old Carmen,
Stop using the word 'bummer'. Maybe starting this letter off with a 'don't' is harsh, but I think you can handle it. Bummer won't last long and it sounds kind of lame. Really lame actually. When my 47 year old self writes a letter to my 22 year old self, she/I will tell me/her to stop using the word 'lame'.
Anyways, the more important tip for you is this: Do not, and I mean DO NOT get on the honour roll. This sort of 'achievement' will make you feel entitled to certain ridiculous things --success namely-- that aren't going to happen for you unless you get a degree in engineering. PS, over here in the future you sure as hell did not get one of those. When your teachers tell you that those assignments matter they are lying. Another good thing NOT to do would be to pull all-nighters in grade seven. Again, if your life had involved that trusty engineering degree by now we might not be writing this here condescending letter.
Sure, some of those kids who were on the honour roll will go on to do good things, things like not sitting in their apartment watching the food network 24/7 practicing their impression of Paula Deen. Y'ALL LIKE BUTTA? See, we're good at that -but I digress. In a few years you will decide to take a shop class, woodshop specifically, and during an afternoon with the ol' radial arm saw (that you will be scared of) a classmate will call you and a friend into the back section. The back section is where all the extra wood is stored, kind of a private area, though this is not that important. The kid that called you back there will make a confession, embarrassedly, that he has grown a nipple hair and isn't that distressing? You don't really know, you haven't been close enough to a boy yet to think about nipple hair, but when he asks for help you will be sympathetic. He will ask you to tweeze the hair with an industrial grade woodshop pair of plyers, and you will do just that.
Now here's the good part. That kid, 'Nipple Hair' we'll call him, will go on to have a good job in trades. Sure, a bit wonky in the head, but NEVER on the honour roll. He now makes a lot of money.
Really now, I'm not too sure why I'm writing this or how much we can change, but we've seen Terminator and understand the power of time travel. Visiting yourself in the past can be a fruitful vacay. Maybe one day you'll be the governor of California. Maybe one day you'll be a world famous male body builder. The world is your oyster, Carmen, a cynical, small pearl producing oyster.
I will add that in the future your sweet boyfriend gives you a Hello Kitty waffle maker, so, that's something to look forward to. Please, act surprised when he gives it to you. The waffles taste like magic and fireworks and peace signs in pictures. It's okay if that doesn't make sense yet.
I won't be narcissistic and say that I love you, but you're a good little kid. Also, good job on not doing drugs. In the future you will have an apartment with lots of crackheads outside and they are most certainly uncool. One night, when the smell of dirty burning crack wafting into your apartment gets too overwhelming you will call the cops. They will arrest the man on your front lawn hitting his crack pipe every five seconds and you will feel a bit guilty. Sorry about that (to both past self and the unsuspecting crackhead).
Sincerely, your 22 year old self.
PS -- Turns out you never get big boobs, sorry. I know [we] hoped for that quite intensely but it just wasn't in the cards. C'est la vie kiddo.