Dear 13 Year Old Self,
You will never believe me when I tell you this, but I saw HANSON in concert last week.
I know right. How much dying did you just do.
Self: they are what you hope; what the DVD's suggest, what your CD's promise. It's probably a good thing you don't get to see them; you'd probably embarrass yourself. I was much cooler.
For the most part.
Taylor's voice sounds the same, so many years later, and he moves his mouth the same too. He sings a few octaves lower, of course. He still wears tight pants. Silly boy pulled them over his boots though; it looked awkward. You'd never guess it, but Isaac is the most attractive to me now. How weird is that! He started out so geeky, I know. Aging does good things to men (you will learn this, soon, too).
|Taylor Hanson at the PNE Amphitheater|
photo source: sceneinthedark
You've wanted to see Hanson live for awhile now, and I know you've resolved yourself to the fact that it will never happen. So you stare at your poster-laden locker door, CD cover, fan page, and just imagine it. But guess what, it does happen, you just don't know it yet. You have no idea what's coming. 15 years later, you'll be 30 feet from Taylor and his piano, singing along to MMMBop....live! You might not believe me, but I had completely forgotten about Hanson until I saw the concert listing just last week. All these years they've been producing music, and I payed no attention. Isn't that funny? You're completely obsessed.
I've been thinking, 13 Year Old Self, about dreams. You have so many, and truthfully, so do I. Our dreams aren't the same anymore; I've seen yours come and go, reshape themselves, or vanish completely, and I've thought up new dreams on my own to make up for the lack. Where you want to learn guitar (and you have...basically), I want to make music. Where you want to be popular, I want to be respected. Where you want to be an author, I want to write books. See the difference? You don't yet, and that's fine. It will come.
I've learned so much about us in the past 15 years, and I wish I could tell you now what I know. But in a way I think it might spoil the surprise, or the lesson, or both. If you knew these things, you'd be ahead of your time, and even more awkward than you are now. Hard to believe, but you eventually get less awkward.
For the most part.
You're nearing 30, self. One more birthday and another year and you'll be the age you've wanted to be since birth. Only this time, you'll actually be 30, and not pretending. Guess what (I'm a little sad to tell you this); you haven't finished those things yet. One more year to go - I'm trying! - and we'll see if I can hold up my end of the bargain. I can feel you rushing me, but only I know these things can't be rushed. I know because I've learned it; you haven't yet. You wouldn't believe how quickly 15 years can pass. I can feel the pressure coming from your young, expectant eyes. What will I have accomplished? Self, I don't know yet. I'm trying, but I still don't know.
You're just 13, and you don't realize: life is not your picture. Learn early to put down your defined markings and solid lines and enjoy the feel of a blank canvas; feast your eyes on the fields of white, untethered land lying before you. Learn to relax when the drawings finally show up, and when they take shapes of their own; it will be good in the end. Dream even though it seems impossible, but give your dreams time to show. 15 years late, they still feel amazing.
Your Almost-29 Year Old Self.