Scuba diving through the Internet today I found this site:

Futureme.org allows you to send an email that will not sent until the date you select.  While this could be used to confess affairs or reveal the location of treasure, I chose to email my future self.  Here’s what will be delivered to my email address on November 26th, 2014-  My 30th birthday.

Tristan.

I am imagining you in your now.
Assuming there hasn’t been some terrible accident, you’re still the same 6’4″.
Hopefully not much heavier.
Hopefully all our hair has stuck around.  That would be great.

This may be shortsighted, but I hope you’re still childless.  I think that having another human life to take care of will severely curtail our ability to seek fame and luxury vehicles.

Unless, of course, you managed to impregnate Scarlett johansson.  In that case, amazing job.  I can’t wait to find out how we did it.

But beyond the obvious starfucking and wealth building, I hope you’re better read than I am now.  Mom and Dad crush crosswords and Jeopardy like no other, but I have a suspicion that it’s more a matter of wisdom than intelligence.  Prove me right.

You probably don’t remember things as they actually are.  My todays must seem hazy and mildly pleasant from where you’re sitting.  There are probably a lot of things that you have that I don’t.  I doubt all of them are good.  If they’re not, think about doing something new.  Become a river guide.  Become the guy that hauls the rafts back and forth from the river but never actually leads any of the trips.  Whatever.  You’ve been an adult for a while now.  Feel it out.

Actually, I’ll close with how you can really impress me:

Read this email in your sun painted study, perched on the second floor of your house, a post-modern construction on New Zealand’s South Island.

Don’t read it at Mom and Dad’s house.

See you.  Be you.

Tristan

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