Dear College Self -
I hope you're well, but knowing you, you'll tell me you're not. Because in the '90s, being happy was seriously unhip. You should consider yourself lucky that this is coming via letter and not in-person. If a Delorean was capable of time travel, I'd give you a serious beat down. But if you'll grant me the opportunity, I'd like to save you from spending the next five years as a brooding, self-important douche bag.
First off, don't you dare shave your head. Thanks to genetics, you only have three years or so before it quits growing back. So enjoy those locks while you have them. Grow a fucking mane and take care of it. Buy a quality, grown-up shampoo -- don't use Pert Plus or whatever fragrance of Herbal Essences your girl friends stock in their shower. Use conditioner and take care of your head. Cause your idea of taking an expired Bic disposable to your scalp is a really, really bad idea. You know what else is a bad idea? Facial hair. You can't grow it. So don't bother showing it off. What you have is what Boots properly coined, "chin pubes." That Bic razor? This is its purpose. Don't worry, if you tend to it every day, you'll have it come in properly in your mid-30s (when the hair on top disappears altogether). Until then, embrace yourself, not whatever image you have of what a badass should be (badasses don't have pubes on their face).
While we're on the subject of image, and you're certainly not the only one tackling this problem -- eat something. I'm happy that you've slimmed down and the opposite sex is beginning to notice you (that is before they walk away after seeing your chin pubes), but don't you feel perpetually weak and tired? I know, I know -- you grew up fat and that's quite the baggage (you know what I mean), but there are certainly healthier ways to lose that gut. Giving yourself an eating disorder ain't one of them. The amount of walking you'll be doing in Boston (and eventually, New York and Philadelphia) will have a huge impact on your energy and the pounds will start dropping without you even thinking about it. But it's not a silver bullet - you gotta couple that with a better diet and strength training. Portion size is part of it -- but that doesn't mean you should eat a handful of crackers and then survive on Jim Beam and Marlboros the rest of the day. And who's kidding who -- you love food. Eat and explore. Hit the gym. You know who goes to the gym? Hotties go to the gym. No, you won't date them because they are already with the hulks on the hockey team, but I bet you a million dollars that it beats any eye candy you have in your head when you're starving yourself in your dorm room.
Which brings up the main topic I'd like to tackle. Dude, what the hell are you doing? You're a hetero male at a big, urban school majoring in film (I'll get to that later). Why are you living like a Buddhist monk? I know, you're the product of and a response to a male-dominated household where your chauvinistic dad expected miracles from your over-burdened mom. Respect. I get that. But you should also respect that when a girl suggests that the two of you should "hang out" sometime, it doesn't mean playing emo records and reading aloud your diary (that's right -- I said it. What you refer to as your journal is a fucking diary!). If she invites you to her room and tells you that her roommate is out of town for the night, go with your first thought and then stop thinking. Cause you know what's disrespectful? Rejection. Don't waste her time. How did you feel when you were rejected? Now imagine she was the one who opted to go home and watch Annie Hall or Taxi Driver for the zillionth time. God, you suck.
And before you get your panties in a bunch, yes, I know. You're a romantic and you're "in love" or whatever. Great. But a few words of advice in that department. First things first (I'm the realest... you'll get that in about 20 years or so), stop being so tragically romantic. Your martyrdom is smothering her. Secondly, it's not worth it because you're a baby and it's not forever and it's a rite of passage. Thirdly, what are you thinking? Long-distance relationships don't work. And long-distance relationships certainly don't work in college. God, you must really hate yourself. All night spent by the phone, wondering what she's up to -- worried that she's out partying and hooking up while she's... well, while she's out partying and hooking up. Get over it, stupid. Grow a set, take a shower, put on clothes that look like you made an effort, ditch the old man cardigan, leave your knapsack in the dumpster and say yes to every invitation you get:
Would you like to join us for dinner? YES.
Would you like to meet at the bar? YES.
Would you like to see a show with me? YES.
Would you like to shut up and make out? OH HELL YES.
Would you like to dance at Club Axis? YE... okay, so maybe that's one to consider saying "no" to.
And once you get good at saying yes, try offering up invitations of your own that oh, I don't know, take into account her interests. So instead of inviting her to see Who's That Knocking At Your Door at the Harvard Archives or coffee at the Deli-Haus, maybe try taking her to J.P. Lick's for a double-scoop or a cocktail at The Good Life. Start light and easy and then plunge into bargain bin shopping at Newbury Comics or a show at the Middle East. You are so stuck dealing with your imaginary issues that you have forgotten to be nice to people. And it's not just about being nice for nice sakes -- being friendly allows you to actually have a conversation and learn about somebody who can, in turn, learn something about you. Dating is not a cool person checklist to see if they like the same things you do. God -- how boring the world would be if everyone shared the same interests. And don't inflict your interests on others -- no amount of bullying will make someone like Shudder to Think. You either do or you don't and most of the world doesn't (their loss). When the girls are studying, don't play the entire Radiohead songbook on acoustic guitar and wonder why they don't sing-along. When someone disagrees with you, don't embarrass them with your relentless sass, no matter how annoying they are. So show some interest and courtesy. When you're invited over for dinner, offer to bring something. And if you ever present a girl with flowers, don't just drop them off and walk away. Doing so does not make you're James Dean in a movie, you're just a douche in real life. And this douche-baggery of yours is not limited to your interactions with the opposite sex. Hug your guy friends and make good on repaying every dollar they've loaned you, every album their burned for you, every drink they've bought you. Without them, you would be an even hotter mess.
Don't hold grudges. Cause yeah, you do. And it's sad because right now, you think whatever wrong they've inflicted on you is personal and the be all, end all. Know that they certainly don't think so (because they are mature enough to have proper perspective). Friends are not easily won and it's even harder to keep them. Save yourself a decade of guilt and mourning of loss friendships. Apologize, share a smoke, split a six-pack, smoke a spliff and get over it. Cause the pent up apologies will mean nothing when they've moved on without you in their lives.
And listen, man, I know I'm giving your ass quite a chaffing so let me follow that up with some affirmation. You're a cool dude. That whole brooding, Kerouac thing is all right and it's as close to Paul Newman as you're gonna get. I'm not worried about the smoking thing cause you'll quit in eight years, but pack along some gum. It can make or break an opportunity. Your diaries prove that you can write. Now hone it. No more creative writing -- be a craftsman. Focus on it. Edit it. Find an audience that you're responsible to. Cause it's the difference between vomit and gold. The record player and the Smith-Corona typewriter is cool and all, but invest in a computer. It will make life so much easier. Instead of spending an entire week hammering out a paper, pausing to dab your errors with White Out, you'll spit out complete papers in a matter of hours and email it to the professor without killing a single tree. All that saved time you could then re-purpose for less lonely activities. And let's talk about classes for a second. Yes, I understand why you failed Introduction to Science in Archaeology. You set yourself up signing up for a class that required both lab and discussion sections, but you have to go to class. Every class, every assignment, every book holds an opportunity for you to learn something about yourself, about the world. It's intellectual cred that will serve you for a lifetime. And man, you're a film major. As stupid as it was to major in this, you're freaking talented. My advice is to never stop doing it. You've already placed a $150K bet on it, so make good on it. So when you join your peers for that L.A. networking trip, don't blow your time getting drunk and sightseeing. Aim to get at least one internship offer by the time you leave. Get cards printed and agree to do whatever they want the following summer. And don't just go to the meetings, show up -- groomed, prepped, hungry! And when they offer you no pay, you say "ok." Cause you're young and can hustle and you'll be in the room when that development job or that second unit assistant director job opens up. Oh, you don't want that? You only want to write and direct because that's what Woody Allen does? Well, they're not hiring. You have a serious pride issue and that has fooled you into thinking you're the next Ed Burns, just waiting to be discovered at the next Sundance. Well, I've seen the future and no one knows who Ed Burns is anymore and Sundance has become Hollywood's high school reunion at the ski chalet. For every success story, there's a million dreams deferred. You, sir, have more than a foot in the door. You have a golden ticket: meetings set up at Warner Brothers, Dreamworks and HBO (tell him you have an idea for a series about a mob family in Jersey and how the audience gets a window into it via a psychiatrist). You have a seat in Lauren Schuler Donner's office when she's on the cusp of launching a very successful X-Men franchise. And what do you do? You try to shop her a 12-minute art house whine-fest shot in grainy black and white. Dumbass.
And look, I've got a spoiler for you -- it all ends up ok. Actually, no, I'm wrong. It ends up very good. Despite all of these shortcomings and mistakes, you'll end up quite spoiled. You'll make it to NYC after graduation, but it will be short-lived cause that city has a million suitors and you didn't make the cut. However, in that short span of time, you'll discover your accidental career in theatre education. That will take you to Philadelphia where you'll get your biggest break ever and assistant direct four mainstage shows. You won't be rich by any stretch of the imagination, but you'll be drowning in love, lucky enough to have met a kickass girl who challenged you to become a man. You're going to be an amazing father to two beautiful kids who will inspire you to do things you never thought you were capable of (like spooning a growing man in a kimono only to choke him out seconds later). You'll discover latent skills in food, wine, education and arts management. You'll return to your hometown to be a model son and look after your dad until he passes. You'll raise a family a mile away from where you grew up and change lives through your work (no, seriously, people will go to college and launch careers because of you). Life is good. The advice I offer in this letter is meant to give you perspective. If you actually heed some of it, you might actually end up happier or get here a little easier. Though to be honest, it's hard to imagine a happier life. And you earned it. So screw it -- ignore everything I said, bum me a smoke and let's watch some Goodfellas.
Sincerely,
Present Self
