Dear 2009 Me,
It’s 2019 you/me, checking in from the precipice of the next decade. (Or the actual next decade? We’ve never been good at Back to the Future math.) So much has changed!
But don’t worry, you’re still with these two.
You’ve all aged 10 years though, which means Hazy drools less and Matty possibly more.
Hazy is still an undiscovered model (both catalog and editorial), but she’s experimenting more with fashion and ennui. (You use a lot more pretentious language now, btw.)
You know how you think life with one kid is soooo hard? HAHAHAHAHAHAHA, suckahhhh! It’s a piece of cake. You don’t even have a dog (yet)! You have it ridiculously easy with your indulgent ratio of two adults to one small, helpless child. You will come to realize this in about two years, then George Xin Fu arrives.
He is ridiculous and happy and makes you ridiculously happy. But also, having two kids kicks your butt. Do you know who needs a buttload of attention? Newborn babies. You know who needs two and a half buttloads of attention? Two and a half year olds. Put them together and that’s – I know what you’re thinking, three and half buttloads, but that’s too easy – like an infinite number of buttloads because they start competing for your time and attention from day 1.
You barely hold on for about two or three years, until they’re finally old enough to entertain each other. Don’t get too excited though; it gets easier, but definitely not easy. They can entertain each other now, but also argue with each other and give each other bad ideas.
But don’t worry, you’re not raising two babies in a one-bedroom apartment in the South End. The bad news is you’re not walking distance from Formaggio; the good news is, Hazy doesn’t smell like bacon every time you cook bacon because her crib/bed is no longer in the kitchen. (Actually, is that good news? Bacon Hazy smelled great.) You live in JP now and you fucking love it. (I know, JP feels like Brooklyn did when you lived in Manhattan, but remember how much you loved Brooklyn once you finally made it out there?) You have an actual house with an actual yard and a one-of-a-kind kitchen with light blue cabinets which you fell in love with at first sight. Matty was all, “don’t be too obvious that you want this house or we’ll never get it” but you had already exclaimed, “This is my house.” the second you walked in. Way to play it cool, dummy. Lucky for you, through some weird turn of events, no deals came through for two weeks and the homeowners eventually gave in and sold it to you.
And guess what? You finally convince Matty to get a dog. Her name is Beatz (Beatrice Bigglesby) and she is the BEST.
Until she descends into madness and drags you down with her (I mean, a dog psychic for god’s sake?) and you end up rehoming her. But you know us, we never learn from our mistakes, so you get another dog, Rosie.
We’re keeping her. For now.
You know how you don’t really exercise, like ever? Well, now you go to bootcamp twice a week and for over three years, you ran outside every single day. Don’t get too excited though, you’re still not particularly thin, because you still eat like an a-hole. Time travel high-five for nachos, am I right?! Up high.
You’re not working at Connelly Partners anymore, but you did spend six years there. And I almost don’t want to spoil this for you, but WE WON CONNELLY IDOL! All your hard work and training will finally pay off. Trust the process. Don’t worry, Jonah’s still in your life. And he begrudgingly still helps you make awesome holiday cards every year. Be nice to Jonah, because even after 10 years, he still hasn’t punched you in the face, even though I’m pretty sure he wants to.
You work at a small agency called PJA for a year, try not working for a summer (which turns into three summers), try freelancing for about a year and a half, and then you end up at Maidenhouse, John Hancock’s in-house agency. Good news, you’re a creative director! Even better news, you really like your job.
Some things have not changed. You still eat too much cheese, can’t keep the house clean, and can outperform anybody on a karaoke mic, even though you’re still tone deaf. Life is pretty, pretty, pretty good. You have the best family and the best friends, and have pretty much nailed homemade nachos. If I can give you one tip, I’d say, relax with those early childhood years. Everything will be okay. If I could give you one other tip, it would be to move that 20-lb box of poker chips before you open the file drawer and before it breaks your toe.
Happy New Year!
Proud of us,
p.s. The Ford stay-wag with those annoying automatic seatbelts is gone. You drive a Prius now, you insufferable yuppie.
p.p.s. Don’t get the kids tablets.
4 thoughts on “Dear 2009 Me”
Nailed it as always.
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Nice one 🙂