Snippets From the Time Travel Postcards Sent From 2008 Me to my Earlier Self

To 1976 J.P.
I‘m not blind, so don’t worry. Mom is lying.

To 1979 J.P.
Just take a deep breath before you drink the shot, and spray it out when you light the match. And don’t wear the velour shirt. Ever.

To 1982 J.P.
Not her.

To 1985 J.P.
Even though the alley on Broadway is dark and you really need to pee, don’t. You’re gonna get arrested and have to hear the judge call you up for “urinating in public.” Way embarrassing, even for you.

To 1988 J.P.
Go back to school. Go directly back to school. Do not pass GO, do not collect $200.

To 1990 J.P.
Buy the Mazda. It'll last and, Christ, everyone has Toyotas and Hondas.

To 1991 J.P.
Not her either.

To 1993 J.P.
Molly will go away soon, and you won’t see her anymore. I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true. Appreciate these times.

To 1995 J.P.
Your friend J.D. is right. Definitely not her.

To 1996 J.P.
Ignore the naysayers. Elvis is a terrific name for the cat.

To 1998 J.P.
Dissertations directors may not know as much as you--or they--think. Ask around and get other opinions. And drink more Newcastle…you’ll thank me later.

To 2001 J.P.
The western part of Kansas by Colby is a fucking speed trap now. I’m just saying.

To 2004 J.P.
Yes, the gown looks cool right now. But you’ll only wear it at convocation and graduation from now on, and it’s itchy and hot. Get the tam instead of the mortarboard; you’ll look like less of a dork.

To 2005 J.P.
The cat is going to claw the couch to bits, so don’t overpay.

To 2006 J.P.
The garden only seems like a good idea because you don't know anything about gardening. Remember the Great Retiling Incident of 1988?