23 Things I Would Tell My Former Self

As my 23rd birthday approaches (and my 12 year-old heart is soaring because I finally get to shout the line “Nobody likes you when you’re 23” sung by Blink-182, the crown jewel of all bands), I can’t believe it’s been nearly ten years since I started high school (and my 22 year-old heart is sinking because…old). Freshman-year-me thought 23 seemed like a lifetime away, and also naively thought that I would have a boyfriend and a job in publishing by now.

I would like to think that I’ve somewhat matured since then, which probably isn’t the case at all, but since hindsight is said to be 20/20, here are 23 things that I realize now that I may not have then:

1. If you cut class to go to a Britney Spears concert, you will get a weekend detention.

2. At 23, you will not use the Pythagorean Theorem.

3. At 33, I’m almost positive that you still will not use the Pythagorean Theorem. But you probably would if you were able to do a mathematical equation past the fifth grade.

4. Some people actually do have to study for their drivers test, despite what you may believe. Because some people will fail.

5. Twice.

6. Procrastinating. is never. the answer.

7. You should set your clocks early so you can stop annoying everyone by being perpetually ten minutes late to everything.

8. You can’t pull off Polo shirts.

9. And denim skirts with Ugg Boots was only a good idea in theory… style doesn’t mean dressing the way everybody else does! And it doesn’t have to mean the Abercrombie & Fitch moose either, so don’t spend a year’s worth of allowance on a pair of jeans.

10. You will get over that boy who you swore you would still be crying over at 22. It will take too long but it will happen. But it wouldn’t have killed you to open up to him a wee bit more.

11. Don’t trust others so easily, but always, always trust yourself.

12. Listen to your parents. They get it. They get you. And don’t sass your mother when she doesn’t let you wear that eyeliner. She was right. It was too dark.

13. You didn’t have to try to be somebody else because you were afraid of who you truly were.

14. Even though you were so awkward.

15. (Even though you still are).

16. There will come a time when you will yearn to be able to write and read and learn all day (and with your friends for that matter!). Cherish it. A 9-5 isn’t nearly as fun.

17. Your first drink should not be whiskey.

18. Because you will throw up in that kitchen sink.

19. You lucked out, because the friends you make in high school (the same who got you through your horrible buck-tooth years) will be some of the best you’ll ever have. Never thank them enough for listening to you, and remember that just listening is the best thing that you can do for them.

20. Never think “but everybody else is doing it” is the answer. It wasn’t then, it isn’t now, and it never will be. Realizing all of the things I did then because I thought I was ready for them makes me realize that I wasn’t ready at all.

21. Stop rolling your eyes, you angst-y little preteen! You are so unnecessarily dramatic!

22. Forgive. Forgive your teachers (because you actually did deserve that C in Biology), forgive that boy who never called you back, forgive your parents for not “understanding” you, forgive yourself for all of those insignificant little mistakes that seemed so earth-shattering then.

23. In the wise-beyond-his-years words of Nathan Scott (if you haven’t watched One Tree Hill yet, start now…): “One day you’re seventeen and you’re planning for someday. And then quietly, without you ever really noticing, someday is today. And then someday is yesterday. And this is your life.” High school was so not the be-all-end that I thought it was going to be then. Every decision I made felt like it was so final, every heartbreak, a Greek tragedy. And I spent so much time then (time I wouldn’t even know what to do with now) worrying so much about the future, and just like that, quicker than I could ever put into words, the future was here. So my 23rd piece of advice, what I would tell to high-school me, is this: stop taking yourself so seriously.

And I’ll tell it to 23 year-old me, too.

Featured

The End of An Era: Saying Goodbye to Windrose

Hi friends,

Announcement (sounds so formal, doesn’t it?):

It's the end of an era.

I’ve decided that, after nearly 8 years of telling stories of navigating life, this season of Windrose is drawing to a close.

Even Here: Words for When You're Wandering

When I was 22 years old, I visited the desert for the first time.

A metaphorical desert, if we’re getting technical.

I was fresh out of college, starry-eyed and eager to begin my post-grad life. I had big ‘ole me-centered dreams: a shiny, brag-worthy PR job in the music industry! An apartment with an exposed brick wall that (somehow) would fit an upright piano! A committed relationship with a kind, goofy man!

I got exactly none of those things.

To summarize an entire year’s worth of emotion: I was devastated.

What is Home?

Late last night, I flew back into town after a week away, the city lights covering the Valley like a blanket of incandescent flowers. I’ve flown into Phoenix at least a dozen times at this point. Usually, I can identify a handful of landmarks, like my antenna-scarred South Mountain or the twinkling lights of the bridges spanning Tempe Town Lake.

Flying into Nashville, however, was always different.

I Don't Live Here Anymore

I recently returned to Nashville for the first time since moving to Phoenix five months ago.

Before my reunion, I often said that the word “home” could apply to both Nashville and Phoenix. Nashville is my home. Phoenix is my home. I could find that home-sweet-home feeling in both cities.

During my 8 days back, I frequented my old haunts. The brickwalled coffee shop still serves the meanest mocha in town. The hillside winery still proves to be a worthwhile spot to sip away a sunny Sunday afternoon. The hip burger joint still offers a lovely evening to dine with friends, new and old. The lime-green Mexican restaurant on the corner of Whitebridge still feels like a queso-soaked refuge.

There were many “stills,” but there were changes, too.

Why did you move?

A cardstock print sits propped against the lamp on my desk: a taupe watercolor swipe outlining a peakside Saguaro, the sun a tiny ring above. Beneath this minimalist illustration are these words in typeface: “I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.”

I happened upon this notecard-sized print on the way out of a shop last weekend, after already having completed another purchase. It was the last print of its kind in the pile. I had to have it. I returned to the cashier: “This one, too.”

You see, this verse has been a thread weaving through my story, simple words spoken by a prophet long dead, a passage of comfort I’ve returned to again and again since my pilgrimage to the desert four years ago, when I inked a cactus on my wrist.

The Good Old Days

Last week was National Margarita Day.

I did not, however, celebrate the holiday. Truthfully, I’ve yet to find THE Mexican place here in Phoenix. You know the one: gaudy decorations, cheap food, even cheaper margaritas.

But there’s a Mexican restaurant at the corner of Charlotte and Whitebridge in Nashville, TN.

You may have heard of it.

Witching Hour (or, Fighting Off Demons at 3 am with a Box Cutter)

Between the hours of 3 - 4 am, I find myself awakened by nothing in particular. The room is silent. There is no sound outside. No loud car horns. No dogs barking.

I’m upset.

I wish it was something other than just me. Then I could stop it. Nothing is to blame. It feels like moments have passed since I closed my eyes. The moments of a long dreamless sleep last about 4 hours.

10 Life Lessons This Cross-Country Move is Attempting to Teach Me

There are a few lessons life has attempted to teach me since my move — all things that I haven’t yet spiced up into a full essay, but deserve to be memorialized by my metaphorical pen nonetheless.

So I present a collection of lessons I’ve learned — and am still learning — in the last 3 months.

What Will Your Life Look Like?

Tomorrow marks 3 months.

Three months here, sharing a zip code with Saguaros.

“So how is Phoenix?” a friend asked me over the phone as I sat on my balcony beneath glowing string lights, a pour of raspberry wine in my hand. The sun was setting, painting the eastern mountains with rosy swipes of redemption.

How has Phoenix been these last three months?

What is it Trying to Tell You, if Only You’d Listen?

I went on a date recently. Two glasses of Riesling, pleasant conversation, and a perfectly amicable guy — it was an altogether fine evening.

However, I wasn’t interested in a second date.

Not because of any run-for-the-hills red flags. Not because I didn’t think he was cute. Not because we didn’t get along. I simply — wasn’t interested.

There’s no better way to explain it. No fear-based avoidance of the potential for a healthy relationship. No disdain for commitment that needs a heavy round of therapy to work through. Nothing deeper than the inner sense that a second date just wasn’t necessary.

But, I said yes to getting dinner again with him.

The Other Side of Yes

I’m a No Girl.

In many ways, this is a good thing. I’m able to confidently decline invitations that disinterest me.

“Want to go whitewater rafting?” No thank you, I’m comfy right here on the bank.

“Want to do a shot?” No thank you, I’ll take my liquor with lime juice and Triple Sec, plz.

“Want to try this carrot cake?” No thank you, Harry, I can’t eat gluten.

“Want to go to Broadway?” No thank you, I’d prefer to go to bed.

In many ways, however, being a No Girl originates less from personal boundaries and more from fear. Fear and I happen to be pretty tight; we talk on the daily. Fear has been the primary consultant for many of my life decisions, in fact.

A Song for Growth

A year ago, a friend of mine got a job at a well known tech company. He had been slogging through the interviews, and he finally got an offer. Obviously he deserved it. He was a hard worker, and his attitude for success and life was admirable to say the least. I knew he was beyond qualified.

But at the time, I was on a career path I couldn’t see myself being happy in. I had made the mistake of staying in the industry mainly for the money. Every month in the industry was a reminder of how much I did not want to stay. It created a nasty cycle of overthinking and career angst. Feelings of inadequacy and existentialism rooted themselves deep inside me. I couldn’t focus on anything and was utterly disconnected from the work I was doing.

I admit I wasn’t happy for him.

LifeAlyssa VottoDecember 17, 2015Featured1 Comment

23 Things I Would Tell My Former Self

magazine Blog

Contact SUBMIT