Do you remember yourself as an adolescent? Do you remember your dreams and aspirations? I certainly remember some of my own. I wanted to go to college. At the time I was really into, and somewhat good at, math and the physical sciences, so I figured I'd try my hand at that. Maybe go to grad school, get a job, etc. All pretty common stuff. Probably more difficult, and perhaps more interesting, is to recall any particular feelings of what you DID NOT want to be. Thinking about it, though, you can probably call up a couple (or many, many more) choices that a younger you wouldn't appreciate.
Have you ever imagined going back in time and talking to yourself about, well, you? What do you think your younger self would think about the decisions you've made, especially the shitty ones? I know for a fact that my younger self would be astonished at the stupidity of many of my actions. As a thought experiment, I am publishing here a conversation between my present self, age 22, and myself at age 13.
Me (22): So, uh, how's it going?
Jeff (13): Who did you say you are again? My long lost brother or something? A stalker maybe?
Me: No, I told you, I'm you 9 years from now as a senior in college.
Jeff: Bullshit.
I was, at 13, a very skeptical person, as I am today. I don't know that I would ever believe a guy who said he was me from the future in any context, but for the integrity of this experiment we will say that I, through a detailed description of all of young Jeff's feelings and fears, which he keeps well hidden, am able to convince him.
Jeff: Ok, so you're me in the future, I get it.
Me: Sweet.
Jeff: And you wanted what, again?
Me: I'm here to tell you all the ways your dreams haven't really turned into anything yet, and to tell you some of the fucked up things that you've done between now and 2008.
Jeff: And why in the hell would I want to know that?
Me: Well, it's not going to change the fact that you did it. And hey, your future friends might read this and get a laugh. Don't you want to make your future friends happy?
Jeff: I don't even know them, why the hell would I care?
Me: I forgot what a little dick you are.
Jeff: Hey man, fuck off. If you don't like it you can go the hell back to 2008.
A stubborn bastard, he is indeed. Oh well, let's just proceed with the conversation and see where that takes us. I know this kid pretty well, and I'm thinking after a while, he can probably get kind of into it. After all, if he weren't talking with me he'd more than likely be sitting around reading or playing video games, or if nobody was home, watching porn on the internet.
Me: Alright, so I guess I'll start by asking if you have any questions.
Jeff: Sure, I guess. What is college like? I mean, this middle school stuff is complete bullshit.
Me: Yeah it really is. Dude, by the way, you're going to fail both of Mr. Riddle's art classes next year, and it's not going to make one damn bit of difference.
Both of us laugh.
Jeff: Yeah, I figured out that they make you take the "electives," but the state won't do anything if you fail them. No summer school, nothing, it's beautiful. Riddle's classes huh? I can see that.
Me: (Laughs) Yeah. So anyway, college. Well, it's a hell of a lot more fun than your next 5 years are going to be. Sadly though, it's still a lot of the same old bullshit, too.
Jeff: Yeah? That sucks. How so exactly?
Me: Well, you're going to see it as an exciting opportunity at first, and you are going to think it is a significantly better environment for you to learn and develop as a person. That's only going to last so long, though, before you see the same kinds of things happening that made you so disillusioned in the first place.
Jeff: Bummer.
Me: Yeah.
Jeff: So the people in the classes are going to be just as stupid?
Me: Yep.
Jeff: And the teachers, professors, whatever... they'll be just as uninspired and unhelpful?
Me: You'll have a few good ones, but for the most part, yes. Except they will be better at what they do, which will only make them care less about you and your introductory classes. Oh, and for your first year-and-a-half studying aerospace engineering, they won't speak a whole lot of clear English, either.
Jeff: Shit.
I can see that Jeff isn't particularly thrilled to find that his passions haven't been unlocked through higher education, so I decide to redirect the conversation. Let's focus on some positives.
Me: It's not all bad though. I mean, you're going to have a ton more fun after you get to college.
Jeff: Really?
Me: Yeah. You'll pretty much forget everyone you hang out with right now, save a few guys, and you'll make some pretty sweet friends your first couple years at the U of M.
Jeff: Yeah, that's cool. I don't like many of these kids anyway.
Me: I know.
Jeff: The U of M, huh? Really branching out there. I mean what is that, 25, maybe 30 minutes from here?
Me: Hey... kid... shut the hell up. It's a good school and you only applied there and UW. And let me remind you that you're making fun of yourself, genius.
Jeff: I guess. I was just thinking something a little more prestigious. Maybe a little further away.
Me: Yeah, well, your college application's going to be good, but not that good.
Jeff: Anyway. So what do you and your friends do then that's so fun?
Me: Um, well... drink, mostly. Trust me, it'll take you less than a semester to figure out that, in college, alcohol is fun.
Jeff: Sounds pretty empty to me.
Me: (Defensive) It's not.
The kid's got me a little rattled. We're not exactly seeing eye-to-eye at this point, but I know I can prove to him it's not all so bad.
Jeff: So, I end up going to a lot of parties and getting pretty drunk then?
Me: No. Well, yes. Right now, back in the present, you're a little "over" the whole raging house party thing. Your freshman and sophomore year, though, will be essentially defined by your search for a drunken good time, and your antics during those good times.
Jeff: Antics?
Me: Well, you know. You're gonna get drunk a few (under my breath) dozen, or so, times and do some things that you might regret the next day. They'll be pretty funny after a while, though.
Jeff: (Skeptical) I see. And this is going to be fun?
Me: Absolutely. College isn't college without drunken mistakes.
Jeff: I guess. So what are some of my drunken mistakes? What's the single stupidest thing I'm going to do?
Shit, I was prepared to talk to him about all of this, but that's a pretty loaded question. And to top it off, I don't have any clear answer. I mean, it's all about context, I suppose, but there are literally a dozen or more stories that I could tell him here that could easily qualify.
Me: The single stupidest? Um... see, that is a tough question.
Jeff: How so? Just tell me what the stupidest thing you've done while drunk is.
I don't think, at this point, he has any idea how hard a question that is to answer. He obviously has no idea how often I was alluding to when I said that his first couple years in college would be defined by the search for a drunken good time.
Me: Well, let's narrow it down a little. How do you want to define "stupidest?"
Jeff: I don't know, how could you define it?
Me: Well, we could go with stupidest like the most embarrassing. Or stupidest like most dangerous. Or stupidest like regretted it the most. There are a lot of ways, and trust me, they are not all necessarily the same.
Jeff: I take it you've fucked more than a few things up, huh?
Me: You could say that, I suppose.
Jeff: Well, just give me a story. I want to know at least the kinds of fuck-ups we're talking about here.
Me: (Hesitantly at first) Um... alright. Well here goes. In the summer of 2007, you're going to go to a Twins game with your friends. It's going to be a 6 o'clock game against the Brewers at the Dome and a big group of your friends will be going to that game with you. You'll get together at Rizzle's house before the game around noon to grill up some food and take down a keg and a 5 gallon WOP. There are various drinking games going on, and you are participating in far too great a percentage of them. You are, characteristically, drinking beyond your ability to control your thoughts and actions, and though you had a blast while you were in control, you blacked out before the bus ride to the Dome.
Jeff: That's not so bad.
Me: I'm not finished, and don't interrupt. So your next memory is waking up, briefly, around 11 o'clock that night. You are covered in mustard and chocolate syrup. Brandon Roberts, the fuckstick, covered you in it because he thought it was funny. You are laying in the hallway of your apartment, on a table, wearing only the khaki shorts you wore to Rizzle's. You stumble into your apartment, fall into the shower, and do a shitty job washing yourself off. Then you wake up around 10 the next morning with absolutely no memory of anything beyond 5 o'clock yesterday afternoon. Even the hallway incident you didn't explicitly remember, because you thought it was a dream. Apparently, you passed out in your upper deck seat around the 3rd inning. Brandon took you home and put you to bed around 7pm, but couldn't resist the urge to fuck with you.
Jeff: Yeah, that's embarrassing alright. Still, makes for a pretty good story now, I suppose. That's not so bad.
Me: You're right, it's not so bad. Unfortunately, that isn't even top 20 stupidest things you've ever done, but I wanted to ease you in gently.
Jeff: (Nervous now) I see.
Knowing this must be a lot to handle, particularly coming from a man claiming to be you from the future, I decide now is a good time for a break.
Look for the conclusion of my time-traveling adventure, and my further destruction of my own young psyche, in the coming weeks.
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