The First Day

I hate having shit to say and not knowing how the hell to get it out. I'm a so-called writer, for Christ's sake - I should know how to just get it down onto the page.

There's a button-down shirt hanging in the other room, a tie loosely knotted and dangling from the hanger. For some, tomorrow brings The First Day, a new return to familiar places. I imagine the experience to be much of the same, only different - covered with the glossy, somewhat jittery sheen of new backpacks, fresh notebooks and unchewed pen caps.

The thoughts of a first day have been on my mind with increasing frequency the last couple of weeks, as the calendar days have crept closer to August 30. I don't know why this time of year has affected me moreso this year than the previous two, if not only because there's supposedly a comforting cushion of time between today and back then.

Regardless, the arrival of August 30 brings with it some reflection and a surprising number of anxiety pangs. And the realization that I really shouldn't spill my guts about it all on here, but that I don't really know what I would write anyway, were I to put my pen to a lined piece of paper.

A lot has changed between now and then. Mostly for the better. But I can't pretend that I don't sometimes still think about it all.

I remember sitting in my mother's recliner, looking at the suitcases and wondering what the hell lay in store for me. I wish I could have known then what I know now, but had I, I wonder if I would have gotten on the plane.

Dear Me Then:

Everything turns out pretty OK in the end.

You'll meet some cool people. You'll meet some people who seem amazing at the time, but watch out for them. They'll make you want to cry every now and then.

You'll fall in love with neighborhoods, you'll love the new nightlife about to introduce itself to you. You're going to learn just how quickly politcal affiliation becomes a deal-breaker. It matters. You'll laugh over how much it does.

You'll have a horrible hangover the first morning you wake up in your new place.

You are going to see how things work from the other side, and you're going to have a chance to learn from the best. Some lessons you'll pick up right away, others seep into your being with much more subtlety.

You're going to discover this amazing place where they make the best Mexican ever. Go there often. You'll get the occasional meal on the house. Actually, know what? Eat at a lot of places. Just eat. Please. Thank you.

Keep on writing. You'll need to look back on this sometimes.

Limit your running to once every other day, please. You'll thank me for this later.

Flirt outrageously with HGC. You'll have fun. And when you meet the hot staffer and you introduce yourselves to each other, remember his name right away. Just trust me on this one. It will spare you embarrassment.

Go to concerts. Don't save all your money and miss out on some amazing experiences. You still sometimes feel as if you're playing catchup three years later.

Your good friends from home will remain good friends, although you might have some rough patches. Bring a rainjacket with you if you go anywhere on November 12. You'll need it.

Do not, and I repeat, DO NOT drunk dial anyone when you go to celebrate your birthday. And, related, he will not call you back. Ever. OK? Get over it.

Spend as much time in the National Gallery as you can. You'll love it there and miss it later.

Be scared. Seriously. There are some rough times ahead for you. But know what? You're strong. And you're capable. And through it all, even when you want to give up, you know that you can make it through. And you do. You wind up with some of the things you want in the end.

But of course, you're never satisfied with that. Because you're me. And that's what we do.

Have fun. Learn from this. And remember what I said about the running.

Love,
Me Now