Wednesday, 27 April 2016

Dear Twenty-Four-Year-Old Me

To cap off this triptych of letters to myself, when I was Twenty-One I wrote a letter to Twenty-Four. He hasn't written back yet...

Dear Twenty-Four-Year-Old Me

So, here we are at last. It's me, the one with the floral bowtie. As per the rules, you'll get my letter before I get yours, so let's have a chat.
Obviously, you know more than I do, but let me tell you what I know- and that is that it's very difficult to know anything about yourself with any real certainty. I'm not going to go so far as to say that all knowledge is merely opinion, but identities are things that are constantly in flux. If you don't believe me, read some of the other letters that Eighteen wrote. They're beyond incomprehensible. I know we do our best to bury Nineteen in our memory, and that seems a little unfair- he had a lot of issues he was dealing with. I mean- look at Sixteen- that guy is an idiot, but so am I, and so are you. Just because you're an idiot, that doesn't mean you can't also try to change that.
I have so many questions for you- did we finish Honour's? Did we finish Master's? Did we ever get around to watching The Wire? I will make some predictions, and you can laugh at me if they're wrong and condescendingly nod if I'm right. By now, you must have left university- you couldn't possibly have stayed in tertiary education for seven years in a row. Remember the word of advice Toby said to us, that we couldn't go directly from university back into secondary school teaching without a break- it would start a countdown to which there would be a meltdown when it hit zero. Let us therefore make the assumption that you are not still at university.
The question is, where are you now? You might have taken a gap year after finishing Honour's (I have higher hopes for you than Eighteen had for me). Perhaps you did the Postgraduate Diploma in Education when you were Twenty-Two and are now teaching. Maybe you're in another country, doing your Ph.D. I've long held the belief that doctoral study is a passport to any decent university. Alas, I don't think you have the patience for such study. It's an interesting time for me, because a lot of this year has come to revolve around the question: how far is too far? Certainly, when I look around and see that most of my classmates have parachuted out of City Campus in order to engage with “the real world”, I sometimes wonder if my time spent in Honour's is worth it. What opportunities am I closing the door on in order for further study? On the reverse side, what opportunities have I not even thought about which further study will grant me? The only appropriate method to answering these questions, is by systematically finding out where my life is going by allocating equal parts of my attention to higher education, and to my friends.
There's an interesting quote I read which summarizes what this, the rise of the roaring twenties, seems increasingly to be about: “half of my friends are moving out and having children, and the other half are too drunk to find their phones”. It accurately describes how my college community is dividing itself, and I am happy enough to see people move from the latter category of person to the former. Where I will fit in, I do not know, though I hope that you don't know either. We are not men who draw lines in the sand. We are not street fighters who refuse to cross picket lines. We never have been. People get killed when they stay in the middle of the road because the middle of the road is dangerous- but I dislike metaphors where life is portrayed as a journey on the road. I laugh in the face of danger, because I laugh when I'm afraid.
From the novel The Go-Between, “the past is another country. They do things differently there”. Indeed, I am interested in seeing what is lost in translation and what is not. I often wonder what kind of costumes I will be wearing at Twenty-Four. Will you keep wearing rings, the jewelery which has come to define my era? I hope you'll at least keep wearing the black-glass one. We have enjoyed a long and fascinating tenure as sartorialists, have we not? I'm sure, at least, that you will continue our honoured tradition of playing dress-up with the world. Give me that, Twenty-Four, allow me that.
I have other letters to write so I will conclude this one. I just want to remind you that no matter what trials and tribulations you're going through right now, you will get through this. We will get through this. I am not you, but you were once me and you know this- we lived through Nineteen, and he went through the worst of it. I hope this letter finds you well. I believe in you, I trust you, and I'm counting on you.

Love, Twenty-One-Year-Old Me.


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