On my birthday, I received an e-mail from myself that I had written six years ago through this website called futureme.org. Though I had forgotten that this letter existed before I received it, I now can remember the exact day it was written.
Dear Futureme,
I am 25 years old right now, wearing a shirt I bought at the Gap a few weeks ago while shopping with Steve, a friend I met at the gym, and pants from Kohl’s that I had originally bought when I was a teacher at Heald, which I quit earlier this year and went unemployed for about a month before I found this current job at United Behavioral Health. That month did a number on my bank account, though, but I think by next month, I should have my credit card completely paid off. I get paid $1,444 every two weeks, provided I work five days a week. I am not an official employee of UBH yet, and I get paid hourly. For the first time in my life, I have no health insurance, so I am desperately trying not to get sick.
I graduated from St. Mary's with an MFA in creative writing, and I now have stopped writing (barring this e-mail) and have moved to San Leandro with Eddie. I have practically no ties to St. Mary's other than my fledgling friendship with Karen, who is not speaking to me at the moment. I’m not exactly sure why, but I think it has something to do with how I don’t hang out with her as much as I used to, and how I’m always unavailable for the readings and open mics that happen at the college. How do I explain how busy I am now, that I hardly belong to that 'writer's community' and culture, if ever I did at all?
But the truth is, without Karen, I have absolutely nothing left of my time in grad school other than my degree, which I currently don't even use. My thesis is locked up somewhere, and I am almost scared to go back and read it, afraid that it will taunt me and ridicule me for not going further with my graduate degree, for not actually pursuing the life of a writer.
I still miss my time in Sacramento some. I wish Scott and I could find some peace.
Coming back to the Bay Area brought about a lot of changes. I moved back in with my parents to save money, and my grandfather died shortly thereafter. I am not sure if my mother will feel right again. I realized that teaching is not what I am meant to do right now, and I found this job at UBH. It is one that I am less than thrilled about, even though I think I like my job per se. There is just so little to do. But coming into San Francisco for work brought me to Liz, who I have not seen after we had imploded from a huge fight outside of my dorm room six years ago. We bumped into each other on the way out of the gym, and we’ve been hanging out and trying to keep in touch ever since.
She recently broke up with a boyfriend, and I hope she will be alright. She has always been one to throw herself headlong into relationships; solitude is not her favorite position in life. We seem to have picked up right where we left off, and being with her now reminds me of being back in high school, when we used to hang out after school and go to work across the way from one another, she at GNC and I at Chili’s. Those were good times, and it almost seems like I have a better sense of who I was back then. I don’t know so much anymore.
Things with Eddie are up and down, and we have jointly decided to go see an objective third party for some mediation. I am trying not to call it the 'T' word, as I am a little scared of what seeing someone will bring. Liz says that if it's a relationship worth saving, it's worth working for, so I guess I am a lucky guy to be in a relationship worth both.
This will come back to me in six years. I will be 31 (happy birthday!). Will I still be at UBH? Will I still be living in San Leandro? With Eddie and Robin? Will I be in a position to buy a house, like I’ve been wanting to do for a while now? Will I still be friends with Steve? He is going into surgery on the 6th of December and I hope he is going to be alright. I enjoy his company, especially when we are having lunch or taking a walk. He is a nice guy.
I should note that this was written at work, where I have nothing else to do but twiddle my thumbs and wait for an assignment. Am I underutilized? Should I complain? Can I handle this kind of boredom and inertia for the rest of my working life?
I read other futureme letters (the public ones on the site) before starting this, and many of them are trying to give advice to their future selves. I have none to give but this: if, when you get this e-mail, you are still bored at work, sitting at UBH with nothing else to do and feeling like your life is passing you by, feel free to grab the nearest sharp utensil and jab it somewhere memorable.
Austin
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