Dear Future Self,
Hello, bud. It’s me again. I never heard back from you after the last letter I wrote. I sure hope you’re doing okay. I mean, I kind of have a lot invested in you.
I’m writing you because, well, I made a big decision and want to make sure you’re on board. You see, today I put my plan in motion to quit my job. Of course, you already know this living in the future and all. It’s kind of a big-time, grown-up decision. I’ve only got a couple of years left until I hit thirty. Being a struggling writer is all cool and hip and sexy in your twenties. At thirty though?
Maybe it’s an early mid-life crisis, but it’s not like I’ve got a family to support. Now is the time to be selfish and chase my dreams. Problem is I’m not so sure how the dating scene will play out when my only broke-ass move will be, “Want to come to my place for a gourmet dinner of peanut butter sandwiches and leftover beans. And bring a jacket. It’s cold, and I can’t afford to crank the heater past 58 degrees. Wait. Don’t leave. I have hot cocoa.”
See, the real reason I’m writing is to check-in and see how this whole writing thing works out. I guess I’m a little nervous about it after all. I know, I’m doing it smart and will still be working my old job on the weekends. And I’m cutting some expenses too. That’s smart, right? Plus I’m not even stepping down yet. I’ve got to save up a little cushion first in case my car gets repossessed. We’re talking like six months down the road. Ramen noodles are vegan, right? A grand should feed us for a whole year if we’re homeless.
Ha! I’m only joking. Of course it’s going to work out. Hell, you’re not on the streets. You’re not living in a mansion either, but a cozy little place with enough money for food and an occasional night out would suffice. But just to be certain I wouldn’t mind a quick email. Or even a text. You still text in the future, don’t you?
You know I’m easily distracted. I’m a hard worker and all, but when I get to writing I feel like that dog from Up. I start out focused and ready to buckle down imagining the Benjamins start rolling. Five minutes in I take a quick break to pee then decide to check my email. Suddenly, it’s 3 a.m. and I just spent the past 8 hours watching cats make funny faces on youtube. You’re thirty now though. I’m sure you’re classy and professional and not like some schizophrenic animal on crack.
Well, if I don’t hear from you I guess I’ll just wait and see how this plays out. Even if it’s a total disaster, at least I can go through life knowing I chased my dreams.
All the same though, if you do get a second in your busy day feel free to shoot off quick email. Just don’t get sidetracked and spend all day watching dumb video clips. You’re thirty now. I sure hope we’ve got our shit together and it’s working out.