This Time Around

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I want to be 4 years old all over again, knowing all that I know now. That way, I set everything right, the way things should be.
This time around, I know better how to express my identity, I know better not to compromise for any reason, I know exactly what to do and how to do it.

From the start, I’ll make sure everything goes my way. I’ll tell my parents every chance I’ll get and I will start HRT at the age of 12, not twice later. I’ll spare myself all the fights with my mom over what to wear and how to cut my hair. I wouldn’t hear all the lectures form the relatives and all the “friendly advice” that they feel obligated to share.  I’ll be able to enjoy actually going to parties and weddings instead of faking being ill and staying home playing “Red Alert” and “Half Life”. I can actually join Kung Fu class as opposed to going there (under the pretext that my brother is taking the class and I’m waiting for him) to watch Alex (short for Alexandra) though I’m sure I’d still be watching her. And I’ll keep “Lucky” (the Alsatian puppy my dad’s friend gave us for free) and not let them take him to the farm. And I’ll beat up my cousin if he kills our chicken (one of those you buy around Easter).
Going back to school, I know better who my friends are, who I should avoid and what not to do. First year, I know not to use curse words so I don’t get yelled at by the teacher. Second year, I know not to stay out of the classroom too long when I ask to go to the WC. Third year, I know to better manage my time during tests to not get hit by the teacher. Fourth year, I know not to beat up a classmate during recess and get sent to the office. Fifth year, I know I should pay attention in French class so that I don’t spend most periods standing by the wall at the end of the classroom. The French teacher hated me. I’ll know to do my math homework. Sixth year, I shouldn’t complain about religion class. That was a really bad idea. I shouldn’t let my parents sign me up for arts class, I’m not an “artistic” person. Seventh year, I’ll try not to get caught checking out the girls going up the stairs in their skirts. Detention sucks. Eight year, I wouldn’t lose the book Kalila wa Dumna. Again, I hate being yelled at by teachers. I also hate reading. That’s how I lost the book to begin with, I still have it somewhere in my room. Ninth year, pay more attention on studies cause my grades took a nasty fall (from 16 average to 11). Tenth year, tell Alex what I feel before it’s too late cause next year I’m transferring to public school (no more nuns). Eleventh year, be more subtle while correcting the English teacher and pay more attention to math (you don’t know it at the time but in the future it comes back and bites you). Twelfth year, go to AUC, forget high school (waste of time). Thirteenth and fourteenth, will go smooth at AUC (had an average score of 18/20) and will graduate at 18 years old. Then, off to college, a new experience.

Work-wise, I’ll start my career, auditing, as soon as I graduate. I’ll save up to buy the car I want (Mitsubishi Evo 8) and I’ll get my own bachelor pad far away from the family.

Life on the right track, if only a dream…

Contributed by Maverick

Guest Contributor

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