To my 13 year old self.

You know how sometimes in life, you look back at what you’ve done and what you’ve achieved and you may think to yourself, “Gosh, what I would have told myself if I could go back and visit myself when I was 13 (insert age of choice here).”

This is what I would have told myself if I had that chance. Of course, I would write it in a mysterious letter and left it on my study table tucked in the top right hand drawer.

Ah…the melodramatic me.

Dear Paul,

I find it funny that I would have this opportunity to write to you like this. Of course, this is probably a complete and utter fluke that I even have this chance to communicate with a younger version of the current me.

I, having graduated university and whatnot and having worked one year of my life, think that I am wise beyond my years and thus, wish to impart this wisdom to your white fat ass as you may or may not want to be me in the not too distant future.

Ah, but look at you. When Shirley was the only girl you were interested in because she resembled Sizuka from the Doraemon comic. And plus she could swear like a sailor and sang with the most amazing voice.

You were 13. You ran around in your tight green shorts when everyone thought that they’ll all grow up and wear long green pants. You actually wore stubbies when you were 13, for goodness sakes! But that’s all good.

You know, Paul, one thing I would tell you right at this very point in time with your life, is that you were made to perform. Oh yeah, you did win that singing competition and you brought home a huge ass trophy. You cross-dressed and played a fainting mother with yellow paper curls and lipstick smeared across your cheeks as blusher. Good on you. But man, you were made for so much more, little dude.

Remember the little partner dancing thing you did with Jamie and the rest of the class for the end of primary 6 graduation party? Yeah, that was just the beginning.

In about 3 years time, you would be doing Para Para Sakura with your then new found friends. Not only that , you would be teaching the rest of your juniors how to dance it as well.

Fast forwarding 6 years, you would be doing ballroom. And latin. And ceroc. And argentine tango. And salsa. And all these dances you thought only existed in films and competitions far far away. But no. They’re there. And you get to be an awesome part of it.

You will teach a bunch of people to dance. And when you step out on the dance floor, people will comment. They will take notice. They will keep an eye on you because hell, you look damn good out there. You know it, they know it, and you thrive off the energy and the knowledge that people are sitting down in awe at what you do and how you do it. Oh yeah, babeh. That’s right. You will amaze. Trust me.

Not only that, you’ll even have a mature-ish lady trying to end up flirting with you on the dance floor one night. And as much as it kinda grossed you out, you’ll be seriously flattered. +D

And you thought that you were limited to singing with your keyboard and your guitar. Can’t blame you, though. You were never much of a solo dancer, anyway.

One thing I must comment on was the fact that you grew up so….enchanted with the idea of finding a girlfriend. Truth be told, you were slightly obsessed about it, I think. You would look at your friends who did have girlfriends and you would wonder what was wrong with you, what you weren’t doing right, that you did not have some girl clinging on to your arm as they do back in secondary school.

What if I was to tell you that you would meet her 3 years from now? That you would meet her at a camp and you would shake her hand and you two would walk away and that was that until another three years when you found the funniest, rebellious, self-assured girl on the planet after you two exchanged an MSN conversation and ended up texting each other like crazy.

So don’t fret. After all, Val sure was tempting and her mum thought you were the best thing since sliced bread. Especially after she rang you to ring her daughter to ask her what was wrong. And you ended up on the phone for about an hour listening to her cry when her boyfriend broke up with her.

Good thing for your mother, though. She was right about Val. And guess what? You wouldn’t guess who Val would end up dating in the future. Honestly. You wouldn’t have a bloody clue.

And while you’re still 13? You had some pretty good habits drummed into you. You should keep them up.

Sleep at 10.

Wake up at 6.

Prepare everything the night before.

Accept responsibility.

Work hard and revise constantly.

Man…..you should keep that up.

Because me? Hehe. I was lucky to have passed my papers.

Now, I know that you weren’t exactly a top scorer. Apart from English, that is, but yeah, you struggled to make it into the top 20, I’d say. And it used to get worse. But hey, you worked hard and I would like to encourage you to keep up with that, okay? It’ll become really important in life later on.

The Boys’ Brigade? I know it was a huge thing for you. And you loved the discipline, the fact that the boys in blue were different, everything. Plus, not to mention the fact that there were some pretty cute girls in the Girls’ Brigade. Heh.

But looking back now, I would tell you to get out. Join something lame like Scouts or the Police Cadets or something. Just something else.

I would hate to tell you this but after your promotion to Lance Corporal, you would be woken up one night along with all the other NCOs and you lot were made to pick up rubbish left by the recruits and other Privates. And as you’re doing that, you looked down at your field rank bracelet with the one chevron on it on your left wrist and believe it or not, the first thing that came to mind was, “Is this worth it? Is this what the promotion was all about?”

Yeah, you were always quite a softie. No offence. You did become quite lardy in Form 5.

One more thing.

I know how big church was for you back then. How you poured your heart and soul into Sunday School. You and the Twin and the Sports Jock and Ginger revolutionised worship by adding all these different songs and you guys started the trend.

But I would question your motive for doing that.

See, when I did it, I felt at times it was for my own glory rather than for God’s. Perhaps it was the performer’s streak coming through again. And Lord knows, I loved being on display.

But before you fell head over heels in love with the new lyrics and the fact that you could actually put drums and electric guitars into worship, again, I would ask you to walk away. Because 4 years from now, there will be one night where you would utter “FSCK” in the main sanctuary, slam your guitar down on the floor and march out of there. And then you would lead a worship service where in a hall that could seat 400 comfortably, you only had 5 people attending and 3 were your friends. And you would walk home and announce to your mother that you were quitting worship for good.

Oh.

And before you walk away thinking this is a load of crap, in future, if nothing changes and I guess, life continued as it does, you’re going to end up as a physiotherapist.

What’s that, you say? Look it up online. Yeah, I know.

You know what?

I’d recommend that you end up doing something dance related. Honestly. You won’t regret it. And with the amount of money and time you’ll end up committing, you’ll find it the best investment of your existing lifetime.

So who knows, you might change your future.

Tootles,
Paul (2009)