On some afternoons, Clink, Molly and I wear out our “reply all” buttons and send each other a buttload of e-mails. A LOT. I’m not going to lie to you, we tackle some pretty heady issues. Global warming. The middle east. Which of the ‘High School Musical’ kids is going to knock over a drugstore first. We feel like we owe it to a society from which we’ve taken so, so much and given back pretty much squat.
We even try to do a little something for the blogworld. We’re good like that. Yesterday, we decided to start a new trend in blogging…
Open letters to yourself when you were a high school senior.
And here is mine…
Dear senior year of high school Peter,
Hey. What’s up? Nice hair, man.
It’s 2007 you. Or us. Whatever.
No, we’re not married yet.
Dude, that’s as much your fault as it is mine.
Since you are being a jerkface, the majority of this e-mail is going to be about women. So there!
Oh, I see you sitting there. Thinking you know women. All smug in the knowledge that you have a cute girlfriend. Well, guess what… unless you change something, you two are going to break up and get back together 437 times. It’s not going to work out. Pull the plug now, dude. She’s very nice, but it’s a bad fit. And you’ll waste soooo much time (at college!!) before you figure that shit out. We’re not exceptionally bright. It is OK to break up with her (again.) You’ll eventually be Facebook friends.
First things first, you just got accepted into Dalhousie University. Congratulations. You’ve done absolutely nothing to deserve it. And if you had applied yourself even A LITTLE, you could have gotten some scholarship scratch. Ship… sailed…
Also, you have been accepted into the engineering program Seriously? Who are you kidding? You have no interest in engineering. First of all, it is architecture that interests you. Second of all, it doesn’t interest you that much. Get out now. And majoring in physics is not going to pan out either. Get that out of your head. Have you even met you?
We end up studying business. A concentration in marketing.
There are a lot of women in marketing classes and… Never mind that.
You can still change it.
May I suggest going to STFX?
I know that your father is pushing you to go there. And I know that we are a contrarian ass, so it is making it less appealing. But, the man is right. As he usually is. (Though you should try to figure out if its a good thing when he says that a woman “looks like she can fight, fuck, drive a truck, and drink a bottle of wine.” I’ve always wondered about that.)
We want to go to a school with huge school spirit. Sure, STFX people are a little obnoxious with their strange fixation on their rings, but they have spirit. (Yes, they do.) Plus, dude, you already know how friendly the women are there. Come on.
I can already hear the, “But, it is too close to home. Everyone will know my business.”
Despite the fact that people are, and were, much less interest in our life than we have always assumed, I’ll give you that one.
OK… How about King’s College? It’s still in the city. It’s smaller and more close-knit. You can study journalism and try out for the basketball team. (If that little dude from Mabou made the team there…)
You have no argument against that one, do you?
If you are completely convinced that you are going to Dalhousie, here is some advice for that…
– Go to class.
– Pizza for every meal = bad.
– Buy your books more than a week before midterms.
– Girl with ponytail you see on your first day walking into the School of Business building… ask her out.
– Take English or writing classes.
– Write. Adults are allowed to write! You didn’t have to quit when you were 13.
– Girl from your class shooting hoops outside Lemarchant school… ask her out!
– The library is not filled with plutonium. You do not have to avoid it.
– Dorm cafeteria might be. Avoid it like the plague.
– Only live in residence for one year.
– When you are eating pizza at 3 am with the computer geeks and they start talking about ideas for money making ventures. Get involved!
– Even if it is about porn.
– It is always about porn.
– The Russian dudes from the boat that are paying straight cash for shitty old cars… sell them your shitty old car!
– It is OK for professors to know your name. You can talk to them. You are not in Witness Relocation.
– Invent Facebook.
– That apartment on Vernon St. where you’ll live with the boys from home… Absolutely still live there! That place is 256 shades of awesome. Cause more trouble there. Get arrested.
– Growing the weed plant on JB’s desk when he leaves for the summer… Bad idea.
– Also, destroy that apartment before you leave. DESTROY. The owner is a… genuine female sexual orifice. He’s going to screw you over.
– The Naomi girl you meet at the beginning of your last year… Dude, don’t drop the ball. Repeatedly.
– Go to class.
Also, with regards to women in general….
Sicilian girls = bad for us
Girls from Massachusetts = very good
I… don’t know why.
But, because you are me, or I am you, you are not going to listen to word one of this are you?
Man, we’re a stubborn bastard.
Before I forget, don’t bother buying the Barry Bonds rookie card. Shit is NOT going to play out like you expect.
Try to be less of a goof. A little?
Best wishes in all of your future endeavours,