Today I've read a bunch of tweets that dealt with the popular hashtag of the day: #tweetyour16yearoldself
I really started to think about what kind of advice I would have given myself. For example, every boy I had a crush on became irrelevant once I went to college and that still remains true today. I'm not even 10% sorry that I don't know them anymore.
I could say,
I wish I had listened to better music. I wish I had scammed the skater boys, who partook in our school musicals, for their mixed cds.
I wish I had gone to more shows.
I wish I hadn't cut my hair so much
I wish I had gone out with friends more often.
I wish I kept swimming.
I wish I had acted, danced, and sang more.
Thinking back to my 16 year old self actually got me to thinking about something deeper.
I thought of Molly Offer, someone who followed in her sister's footsteps--the fourth and youngest daughter in her family to graduate from our high school. She was the goofy teenager who worked with the stage crew for our musicals and eventually became the stage manger by the time she graduated.
She was a fun, cheerful girl who went away college and on her way to a party during her sophomore year, she crossed the street with a friend and was struck and killed instantly by an oncoming vehicle.
Molly has been gone for two years and I still think about what a great spirit she was. Today a part of me wondered if there was anything that I should have or could have done during my years with her. It's confusing and frustrating to go back and think about the possibility of things. Could I have been a better friend to her? To anyone? I'm not sure I could have saved a life...but there is a piece of me that regrets not spending more time with her.
So again, I think about high school and what I could have perhaps changed or fixed for myself.
Maybe not have stressed out so much...but perhaps it was that stress that pushed me to do bigger and better things after I graduated.
People say it's best to live without any regrets...looking back, what would you have told your 16 year old self?
Tonight I watched To Kill A Mockingbird for the first time in about four or five years and it reminded me just how powerful this story is.
I completely forgot about one of the final scenes of the book where father, lawyer, and all around inspiring gentleman, Atticus Finch stands on his porch, with the town Sheriff, in complete disarray because he son was badly beaten by the town drunk who was then found dead with a knife in his side. The audience knows that it's the recluse and biggest mystery of the story, Boo Radley, who finally comes out of the shadows to rescue the kids, and kills that bastard of a drunk. While, Atticus worries that his son killed the drunk in self defense and pondered how he would approach this predicament with the authorities..it's the Sheriff is quick to put everything in perspective.
To me, this is the scene that solidifies why this movie is so poignant.
I suggest you watch this movie at some point.
Atticus Finch: I must be losing my memory. I can't remember whether Jem is twelve or thirteen. Anyway it'll have to come before the county court. Of course it's a clear cut case of self defense. I'll ahh, well I'll run down to the office...
Sheriff Tate: Mr. Finch do you think Jem stabbed Bob Ewell - is that what you think? Your boy never killed anyone.
[Atticus and Sheriff Heck Tate look at Boo]
Sheriff Tate: Bob Ewell fell on his knife - he killed himself.
Sheriff Tate: There's a black man dead for no reason. Now the man responsible for it is dead. Let the dead bury the dead this time Mr. Finch. I never heard tell it was against the law for any citizen to do his utmost to prevent a crime from being committed, which is exactly what he did. But maybe you'll tell me it's my duty to tell the town all about it and not to hush it up. Well you know what'll happen then? All the ladies in Maycomb including my wife will be knocking on his door bringing angel food cakes. To my way of thinking, taking the one man who's done you and this town a big service and dragging him with his shy ways into the limelight - to me that's a sin... it's a sin. And I'm not about to have it on my head. I may not be much Mr. Finch, but I'm still sheriff of Maycomb County and Bob Ewell fell on his knife. Good night sir.
Valencia's releasing Dancing with a Ghost on October 12.
These guys put nothing but heart and soul and hard work into everything they do...and they do it without any drama.
They at least deserve your ears for a few minutes.
I stumble through the sliding door. This night sucked.
I'm buzzed or drunk or something...very ready to pass out.
Straight ahead is the blue couch with a picture of the beach hanging above it--my bed for the night.
However, this bed seems more like a futon...and he's there.
I smile in the dark. Play it cool. Don't let him know you're drunk.
"Heyyyyy", I try to whisper as best as I could.
As poised as possible I attempt to get in the futon of love with him. Oh hey, nevermind the fact that I'm fully clothed.
He turns over, shirtless and skinny.
Meanwhile, I'm trying to climb over him to get to the side by the wall. I'm stumbling.
He turns and looks up at me with sleep eyes and moves so I can sit in my now claimed location.
"Hey hey hey" I whisper while trying to simultaneously hide my excitement and not pass out.
He turns to face me with one arm rested behind his head.
His hair is shaggy and dark.
"What are you doing", he whispers curiously with a hint of a Southern accent.
I'm glad he hasn't said anything about my clothes yet. I still can't believe I pulled this off and there's no way I'm changing now.
I shrug in hopes of acting cool and casual, meanwhile on the inside I feel like a giddy 16 year old on her first date.
"Nothing. It's whatever. I'm sorry I woke you up...........or not really because all you do is sleep all day" I say with a smile, both hands pressed under my face as it leans against the pillow.
"You're probably drunk" he teased knowingly.
My stomach is full of butterflies. I feel warm and fuzzy and still very sleepy.
I've wanted this scenario for a long time. I just want to touch him to make sure he's real.
"Thanks for moving over for me. I wish you had come out tonight", I sigh.
"Nah, I think it's for the best" He turns to look up at the ceiling, placing both hands behind his head.
I can't take this. He's so close that I can feel my skin just tingle at the thought of touching him.
How do I make this a smooth transition?
"Well, whatever. I think you're better than most of those people anyway." I turn onto my back and face the ceiling as well.
I can hear him let out a soft laugh. He wants to mock me.
"We should just makeout or something" I announce.
Cool. Really "smooth" transition.
"Whaaaat" he draws out curiously.
I'm smiling in the dark...a real big fucking, Cheshire cat grin.
"Come on, let's just get it over with", I slide my body closer to his, while still staring at the ceiling.
"Yea....I think you should just go to sleep" He replies--part teasing me, part brushing me off.
I don't care, I don't freaking care.
In one swift motion, I slide right into the nook of his body frame, kiss him on the cheek, and nuzzle into his neck.
"Hey, watch it", He warns...but after a moment he still puts his arm around me.
I move in for another nuzzle and then pretend to kiss him on the cheek again, but really just plant a sneak attack kiss right on his mouth. Sucker.
He resists for a second and I let out a soft laugh, still not stopping the kiss.
He moves onto his side and pulls me in close.
The coldness of his skin feels excellent against my seemingly 200 degree body temperature.
I stop for a moment and suggest we go somewhere "private".
We tiptoe to a small room that I don't remember being there before.
It's really just a bed with bookcases built into the walls surrounding it.
(Actually, it looks kind of just looks like a closet with a bed.)
We look at each other and I shrug.
We crawl onto the bed and move under the covers. This is the best part of my day and my entire night, I decide.
Suddenly, we hear voices and we stop.
Someone knocks on the door and opens it.
We scramble to pull the covers up.
"Hey, have you seen Jenny?" They ask. Who the hell is Jenny?
"Uh, no", I reply dumbfounded.
They barely close the door and shout to someone that we haven't seen Jenny.
I collapse back on the pillow and sigh.
I suggest we just go back to the futon, so then we steal the big comforter from the bed and move back to the scene of the crime.
As we get under the covers he makes a sarcastic comment about feeling ready to pass out. Uhhhhhhhhh yeah right!
I retort back with something that I think is witty, but most likely is just juvenile.
After some banter he sits up on the futon and moves to kiss me again.
His arms are wrapped around me so tight for someone so skinny.
I've been waiting for this for so long that I can't stop smiling.
Life is good.
A little while later a hear a blaring noise in my sleep.
And then I wake up in a startle, looking around the room.
There is no boy. There is no futon.
There's just me and this blue couch with a thin blanket.
That boy is actually miles away from me.
It's 6:30am and it's time for me to go to work.
I fall back against my pillow and bring the blanket over my head.
I was happy...really happy for once.
But only in my dreams.....
I stumbled upon an excellent article about this generation of people in their 20s and why they just can't seem to get it together.
Magazine What Is It About 20-Somethings?
By ROBIN MARANTZ HENIG
Published: August 18, 2010
They move back in with their parents. They delay beginning careers. Why are so many young people taking so long to grow up?
My friend passed me along the series right before the movie came out. He was meaning to give them to me for awhile but someone was always borrowing his set. I'm glad I read it when I did because I probably would have been slamming my head against my desk waiting for the next volume to come out. (I'm not very patient).
Anyway, the series was completely excellent. I laughed out loud way too many times and I'm sure my coworkers and fellow commuters think I'm nuts by now.
The series was just so well written, from little video game intricacies:
to quirky personality traits and behaviors:
to the overall struggle to go after what you love and discovering yourself in the process:
(Not to mention that fabulous drunk, gay, and unconventional voice of reason, Wallace Wells, Scott's roommate who is just aces and one of my favorite comic characters to come along in years.
The comic series is a just a win all around. I'm actually sad that it's over. I wish that Cartoon Network would do more of these for all the scenes that weren't covered in the movie:
That's all the Scott Pilgrim gushing I have for now. I'll continue to nerd-out in private, battling my own universe where there are sarcastic friends and boy to fight fight for.