Friday, May 4, 2012

Please Get Me A Time Machine (or the Director's cut of Pulp Fiction)

Monday is my birthday Bitches!

I'm.... &%()8

Oh sorry I must have dropped the keyboard or something. Crazy.

Anyway, as I was saying Monday is my birthday. It isn't a big one or one that makes women freak out, but time is passing. Sometimes I wonder if I should be happy or worried about where my life is.

Should I be lamenting the fact that I still haven't climbed Kilimanjaro? or that I swore by now I would be an expert needle pointer?

What about touring the south of France? (I could finally put to use my awesome French skills. This would be the part where I type the two phrases that I remember from high school but in my attempt to spell check them, google translation is convinced I am speaking Arabic and not french, Told you I was awesome.)

These were never actual goals I set for myself but since I can't remember any real goals I did set as a child I can't really measure if I've done enough by this point.

I can measure myself against my peers but even I'm smart enough to know that never goes well, not to mention is isn't exactly a positive exercise.

On the one hand if I say I'm doing better it is seriously snobby and it I say I'm worse than jealousy must surely follow.

Or coveting. Yeah certainly there would be some coveting and I think that is one of the big 10 no-nos. No need to be doing any of that. Not with all I already do to ensure my trip downstairs.

I'm sure I had goals at one point but since I can't remember any of them that a Time machine would be super handy. (you thought it was in the title because I didn't want to get old didn't you. Silly Gooses)

I sincerely hope it would be a Delorean, but I guess a TARDIS would also work. Either way it would be just a quick trip back in time to see what younger me aspires to be. We wouldn't have to worry about any paradoxes or alternate times lines were the school bully runs the town thanks to a sports history book.

I really have no advice to give to younger me.

Wait, do you think it would break the time code to tell myself that pin curls are not a good look for the junior prom? What about the American Flag Chuck Taylor's?
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Even now I want to go online and order a pair.

Certainly there can be no harm in pointing out that just maybe those aren't a good look for anyone but the Harlem Globetrotters?


I think I'm having an epiphany.

If there is really nothing I want to warn little innocent me about I must be pretty happy.  Right? That's like the perfect logic statement if I ever saw one.

I guess it doesn't matter that I never mastered the pan flute or learned what the hell was in the briefcase Jules and Vince had to recover.

Life is good and I have to assume that if a younger version of me ever gets a glimpse of her future she would be pleased.

Who knows though. Young me was even crazier that old me. Seriously, there was a point were I was obsessed with Michael Dudikoff.

That is just plain crazy.

Everyone knows Dudikoff was only given the role in American Ninja because Chuck Norris turned it down. (seriously. I didn't even have to make that one up.)

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