Introducing myself as of 2006, the autumn of my senior year of high school. I was 17.

In a noteable act of suburban rebellion and/or quasi-feminist-liberation after a bad day of school that year, I had stormed into the hairdresser and demanded he cut off my waist-length hair immediately. I walked out satisfied, feeling like my head was going to float away. I went home, startled the bejeezus out of my mom and had short hair for the next four, low-maintenance years. I was graduating high school and had wild dreams of the adventure and freedom of college, most of which turned out to be completely accurate. I was a little louder. I thought a little less before I spoke. I expected very different things from life. I thought I wanted to be a journalist or a politician.

I had gone to the same school since I was 4 and I had known most of my best friends for 14 years. I had lived in the same house since I was 3, and had only moved from one other house that was ten minutes down the road. Leaving could not have been more bizarre, or welcome.

Luckily enough for this prompt, I’ve kept a journal since 2006 that still sits on my bedside table in my apartment. I have found two poems

Here’s a poem I wrote in 2006, the day the picture above was taken.

[Author's note:] Please don’t judge! I was young and considered myself ‘literary’ because I’d taken AP English Literature.

[Author's other note:] Wait… isn’t my entire blog like an ‘author’s note’?! Nevermind.

Exodus

We watch as the days slide past,

Sand in our hair, the smell of the sea and  baking asphalt,

Laughter and song.

We are the beloved

and the vanishing.

And when we depart

Our cars will make bowed shadows on the highway

Like lonely giants.

What would I say to myself?

I would tell my anxious adolescent self not to worry, that I would be ok. That I would not be the miserable, confused kid all of us can be at 17 forever, that the boy worries that consumed me would melt into shadows and that the brightness would shine through, as ever. I would give myself a hug.

Fast forward and suddenly it’s 2011, my senior year of college & graduation. Where does the time go?

A little older. 22. Still pretty loud, still don’t think long enough before I speak. Grown, by the standards of any 17 year old. I have graduated college, have my first job and apartment and a wonderful group of friends here and scattered across the world. The crew from high school still keeps in touch, and we’re celebrating a whopping 19 years of friendship this year. Unbelievable.

My taste in music is probably what’s changed the most. I rose from the emo-depths of Brand New and Yellowcard fandom into the more upbeat world of folk, hip hop and house music. One thing I’ve certainly moved past are my misgivings about dancing with myself in public. I am unabashed by the joy that music fills me with, and any raised eyebrows or giggling whispers are evidence of patrons simply not having as much fun as I am. Ha ha ha.

But I digress.

So here was a poem I wrote this year during a particularly flustered/frustrated study break during finals. I warn you, my writing has not improved vastly.

School

We were not made,

To sit crunched over tiny words,

and flashing screens.

Our bodies were designed for the higher purpose

of the

Anything Else.

To leap, to run, to walk, to bend,

And should we so choose,

To follow drum beats like heartbeats

& dance like Gods upon the moon.

If we so choose.

But instead the massive crumbling

Volumes in that silent space

of ‘learning’

Surround us like so many vultures ‘wise’.

And now I sit at my desk,

As my dishwasher makes sounds

Like the vast ocean.

So, a bit of a stretch, but you can see I was disillusioned with the world of academia. So be it, it’s over now!

I am very happy where I am right now, although my 17 year old self could not have imagined it for me. Within the past 5 years I’ve gone to college, survived living in Miami, Germany and New York City. I’ve lain on the bottom of the sea and chased lemurs through the woods. I’ve waited tables, been a camp counselor and sold hookah. I’ve worked in fashion, travel, sports, nonprofits and newspapers. I have loved many and lost a few, made mistakes, gotten messy, learned to cook and to discipline myself.

I am proud of who I have become and look forward to the next 5 years. I can’t even begin to imagine what is in store, and hey– if I imagine too hard, I might ruin the surprise! I’ll be 27 in 5 years, which is the age Mommy was when she got married. CRAZY! Maybe I’ll have my dream job. Maybe I’ll be living in Thailand. Maybe I’ll have a dog. Maybe I’ll be back in school– I just don’t know! But man, am I ever looking forward to the voyage. AHOY!

What would I say to myself? Not much… but I would definitely high-five myself.

And oh wait– one thing in particular has kept consistent through these 5 years. A pair of neon yellow stilettos:

“You’re sick of hangin around and you’d like to travel,

Get tired of travelin and you want to settle down,

I guess they can’t revoke your soul for tryin,

Get out of the door and light out and look all around.

Sometimes all the lights shine on me,

Other times I can barely see,

Lately it occurs to me what a long, strange trip it’s been.

(The Grateful Dead: ‘Truckin’)

Have a great day everybody!

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