Advice to My Teenage Self
Take voice lessons. Don’t stop. Figure out how to pay for them.
Ride a horse as often as you can. When you can’t a horse, ride a bicycle. Swim.
Write down the stories you hear from old people. That includes your parents, even if they’re not old. Better yet, as soon as you can, get a recorder and tape them. You think you’ll never forget, but you will.
Ask questions. Don’t assume you know everything. Fill in the gaps.
Keep a diary. Tell the truth. Hide the diary.
You can write fiction without knowing the end of the story before you start writing. Just start writing.
Refuse to weigh in P.E. The scale says you weigh ten pounds more than the rest of the girls, but you’re the same size they are. You’re not fat. In thirty years you’ll look at old photographs and see that you looked like a shapely pencil. You and your mother will end up in the superintendent’s office and you’ll end up weighing in P.E. anyway, but you’ll have been right.
Dieting doesn’t make things better. It makes you gain weight.
You’re not messy, sloppy, disorganized, or any of their synonyms. You’re ADHD who hyperfocuses on scholarship but can’t find her shoes or anything else except her books and homework, and you don’t see the mess until it’s pointed out to you. You “lack executive function.” Unfortunately, ADHD won’t exist until later, so you can’t explain, and nobody knows.
People like you. Don’t withdraw because you decide they don’t.
Things change. You will change. Life gets both better and worse. You can’t control everything. Don’t try.
Perfection is overrated.
Tell people you love them. Show it.
Don’t waste time watching Bonanza. It’s a dumb show.
I started Bloganuary just in time to get my January 1 post up. Since I made no formal resolutions–why bother?–this will serve. I hope to make all thirty-one days. But if I don’t–perfection is overrated.