It was a narrative essay. I wrote about a chance encounter with my future self in a coffee shop. It was probably the most trite and pretentious thing I’ve ever had the stupidity to write. In the essay, my future self was:
- Married (to an older British man, of course. Think Rupert Giles)
- With two kids (I gave them ridiculous names too. I think one may have been Nicodemus. Why the hell would I do that? Now I’m all for normal names that are properly spelled with no unnecessary vowels.)
- An English professor
- a smoker (I’m not sure why I made such a point of this aspect, but eh.)
The funny part of this is that only one of those things will ever be true. I’m married now. (At the time, I didn’t expect to be married for another ten years. I met my husband about a year and a half later. We got married 3 and a half years after that. He’s almost a year younger than I am, American, and nowhere close to sophisticated. I fucking adore him.) I don’t plan on having biological kids (and it’s weird that I would write that I did in the essay, since I wanted kids even less at 17 than I do now). Also, I would never become a professor. I don’t have the patience. If people want to learn, great. I’ll help them. However, for English and Arts - that’s really rarely the case. It’s usually teenagers who are only taking the credits because they’re a prerequisite.
I quit smoking 3 years ago. I stopped smoking originally when I met my husband because he hates it. During a really bad period, I took it up again and tried to hide it from him. It’s the only thing I’ve ever lied to him about, and he didn’t take it well. We argued, cried, and got married 3 weeks later. My quitting smoking was a condition of our getting married, and it was the best decision I ever made.
It’s really interesting to think back on things like that and want to punch myself in the face for being such a pretentious fuckface. I’m really glad my life turned out much differently.
I was a moron at 17. It’s amazing how much you learn in 9 years.
10 years from now I hope to be a working Graphic Designer who at least makes enough to be comfortable. Still with the husband, and still in Portland. Maybe adoption, maybe not. We’ll see. I still won’t be smoking.