Dear 25-Year Old Self,
As I am turning 50 soon, I feel that I can give you some excellent I’m-twice-your-age-youngster advice, with a bonus tip: Top Ten Lists have better Google juice. You’re welcome! Here we go, youngster.
In 2001, I was 18 years old and had just moved almost five thousand miles across the Pacific Ocean from my tiny tropical island of Saipan to the Pacific Northwest. I made it to the green, glittery city of Seattle. I had a one-bedroom apartment, few pieces of furniture and a boyfriend who spent more time playing video games than going on job interviews.
This is a letter to a 26-year old girl who sat on a beach in Boca Raton, and faced for the first time that the path she was on was right for everyone around her except for the person who mattered most: herself. She looked into the Atlantic Ocean and thought, What do *I* want? And so began a journey from a called-off wedding in South Florida, to film school in Tallahassee, and finally to a creative life working in the entertainment industry in Los Angeles.
When I find myself thinking, “If I knew then what I know now,” I admit that I feel a bit regretful. My younger self was full of ideas about the ways that I was going to change the world. I was excited about the possibilities that I had before me, and eager to embrace them.
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