The first day of school with 7-year-old me in the middle, trying to rock the Catholic school uniform shorts. This happens to be my mother's favorite picture of her oldest children. |
In doing this, I have also tried to take some time to do a little writing for myself, something I will enjoy doing when not having to stare at the computer screen at work. It’s been rather difficult, especially as I force myself out of the mindset of “reporter” to “creative writer.”
So in doing this, I have also taken more than my fair share of time updating a Facebook account, which has become both a tool for keeping in touch with friends from college I do not speak to on a regular basis and amusing myself by coming out with outlandish statements, some I swear are true.
However, it has recently occurred to me in looking at the content that I post and in relation, to the life adult-me leads, that my 7-year-old self would be utterly embarrassed and ashamed, really, that this is who he grows up to be.
So as a favor, I will go about listing those ways I have failed him. Perhaps at the end of this social experiment I will have made changes to allow this younger version of me some relief, or perhaps a TV deal, whichever comes first.
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