Occasionally, when I am questioning a decision I have made, I worry that a future version of me is going to bust in my door to “beat some sense into me.” I mean, honestly… if time travel is invented when I am like seventy years old, that is probably the first thing I would do. You know… go back and do a little personal house cleaning. It might be fun to travel back and swat fast food out of my own hand give myself warnings like, “she may be hot but it ain’t gonna end well…”
Of course, the flip side of the time travel thing is that if a high school age version of me were to get a hold of that technology somehow, I worry that he might bust in my door in the present to kick my ass for not deleting that Britney Spears album and two episodes of ‘Barney and Friends’ from my ipod.
So, if you happen to see either a seventy year old man in a futuristic time travel suit or a skinny kid with long hair and a black Metallica shirt beating the hell out of me, just let it be. It is probably just me, and I probably deserve the beating.
I like to imagine that after I take my licking like a middle-aged man, I might team up with my future/past self and go on some cool adventures and stuff, maybe set some world records and bet on some big games or even try to steer the titanic out of the way of that iceberg. If I ever get the chance, I am gonna go back and make some really whacked out cave paintings to confuse archaeologists. I think I would be a great sidekick for myself.
I hope they invent time travel soon… even if it means I have to watch out for alternate reality versions of me screwing with my life.