Dear Me:

I was reading a magazine today and there was an excerpt from this book called, Dear Me:  A Letter to my 16 Year Old Self. It is a bunch of celebrities writing letters to themselves about things they wish they would have known when they were 16. It reminded me of the AMAZING, WONDERFUL, INSPIRING, CRY ALL THE TIME It Gets Better Project, created by Seattle’s own Dan Savage.

Either way, it is a neat project. And although most of the celebrities writing letters were in their 40s, 50s and 60s, I felt inspired and decided to write a letter to my emo 16 year old self. Perhaps when I am 35 I will write a letter to by 25 year old self. All I know is that my 25 year old self is a lot more strong, confident and peaceful than my 16 year old self. So here it goes.

Dear Me:

Stop cutting your hair that way. You kind of look like a tool. I mean that in the nicest way. I guarantee that when you look back at pictures, you will wish you hadn’t done that with your hair.

Also, your body is perfect. No, you aren’t short like your best friends. No, you aren’t ever going to be petite. But god damn it you are strong. You are well proportioned. You have thick, wavy hair and a beautiful string of freckles across your nose.

Speaking of freckles… WEAR SUNSCREEN. You will have a few too many horrible burns in the future if you think you are going to tan like your best friends. They were graced with olive skin—you were not. Stop pretending.

Those boys? The ones you think are too cute for you? They aren’t. They will fall in love with you. Enjoy that. Have more confidence in the fact that you are attractive, and that your wit and sass will win them over every time.

Don’t be too concerned with if you are popular or not. In just a few years you will find that the ones you most enjoy are those that read and will play Apples to Apples with you. You won’t even know there are parties going on; you will be content hanging out with mormons and being innocent. Roll with it. You will get your party on in college—and for goodness sakes, stay away from Monarch alcohol, it will cause one too many terrible mornings.

Your first love is tumultuous and silly. You will always have a little corner in your heart for him. You will also move on to much bigger and much more real things. It is always hard. It is always painful. It is always beautiful.

And yes, you will turn into the athlete that you always wanted to be. It might take more years then you would like to imagine, but there will come a time when you will stand naked in front of the mirror and truly love every part of yourself.

With love,

Your future self.

To My Future Quirkytogether

Staying on the kick of quirkyalone, I wrote a letter to the person who happens to steal my heart.

To my future Quirkyalone:

Sometimes I get grumpy. And when I say grumpy, I mean silent and kind of mean. And when I say kind of mean, I kind of turn into the sassiest mother fucker you’ve ever laid eyes on.


I also love my dog more then you.

Don’t take this personally. It is just that he has always been there. You haven’t. My dog and my family will probably trump you every time. I think that says something about my character. Some may call it selfishness. I call it loyalty.

I probably like musical theater too much. Don’t worry; you don’t have to like it. If you do, you get one million bonus points.

The holiday season means I want to hold your mittened hand while we get a Christmas tree. I want to drink soy nog (you can drink real eggnog I guess) and listen to Vince Guaraldi while decorating said tree. I will probably ask you to hang up the lights; I am not good at that.

I really like books. You can find me at a half price book store blowing a good portion of my paycheck. I am a firm believer in keeping books, which means I’m running out of shelf space. I imagine we will sit and read together a lot. I hope you like to read.

I am somewhat of a homebody. I have roots spread pretty wide and pretty deep into the Pacific Northwest soil. I thrive off of rainy days and endless green.

Yes, I sometimes wear flannel. Yes, I drink too much coffee. And yes, I consider hiking a favorite pastime.

I hope your home is where I am, and where I am is here.

Although I always know my home, I love to adventure.

My world is a bit brighter because I have seen places. As far north as Iceland, as far south as New Zealand—I leave behind tiny fragments of my self in each place. I hope to spread myself across the globe.

Maybe your pieces and my pieces can dance the tango in Spain.

I hope that when we end up tying the knot, we will say I Do at the top of a mountain. With hiking boots on–slightly sweaty and a bit too muddy. Our dog(s) will be there. And perhaps a banjo or two. We will keep things simple. A cooler full of beers and a few good friends.

Oh yes. Most importantly, I love my freckles—as should you.



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