If my twenty year old self woke up in my bed tomorrow, what would she think?

The closet would be the first of many hurdles my young, hopeful, self would have to get over. It’s pretty scary in there. While trying to find something to wear amongst all the dingy crap she would wonder aloud what happened to my impeccable sense of style. Then she would find that old Beastie Boys t-shirt and forgive me a little for the rest of it. Then she would find the sweater with the reindeer and mutter something filthy under her breath.

Before too long she would figure out that I haven’t moved out of the country and that would start her on a whole thing about my lack of adventure. When she realized that my anthropology degree has done nothing more than collect dust on the bookshelf of my adult life, she would sigh. Then she would wonder what the hell I am doing if I’m not off traveling the world. I don’t want to tell her that I still work for the same company. You tell her. Uh oh, now she’s pissed. Maybe if I show her a paycheck she’ll calm down. Nope, now she hates me even more. She’s yelling something about selling out and trying to buy her off. Man, she’s kind of a bitch.

After she settled down a bit she would immediately realize that she was old enough to drink legally and that alone would make up for half that day’s disappointments. (Please do not tell her that hangovers worsen with age, she can’t handle that right now.) With a few beers in her she would cut me some slack and even throw out a compliment or two. In the end she would wind up sitting in a bar, talking with the good friends she's always had and coming happily and sloppily to terms with her future.

I guess this is my way of coming happily and sloppily to terms with my present. Beer me.

LCK