"Regret is so last year."
I wrote that a couple of months ago. And I stand by it. It's one of those lessons that's taken me a while to learn, but regret is overrated. Because the few chances I've had in life to actually experience the "do over," my world didn't suddenly become the stuff of legends. Although it did become a little more complicated, a little more fun, a little more "Nadine, this is what it's like to stop thinking so much." But still, the regret certainly wasn't worth the mental anguish.
I'm a thinker. And an over-analyzer. I carefully weigh my decisions and am fully capable of talking myself out of anything. Except groceries. I can walk around in boots with holes in them. I can turn down a lovely evening with friends. I can reject the notion of a week in the sun for the sake of my little bank account and the prospect of even greater adventures that may or may not pop up on the horizon. So on Do Over Day, there won't be a whole lot of things I've done that I can regret. It's the things I chose not to do, I suppose, that I could wistfully long for.
What would I do over?
Nothing. Well, maybe not nothing.
- I would order the Chicken Marrakesh instead of the salmon at The Sultan's Tent.
- And maybe I wouldn't be such a picky jerk around a couple of really fantastic gentlemen. I was pretty cold in high school to guys who couldn't spell/play the guitar/read.
- Okay, and I would take art class instead of music.
- And I wouldn't head-butt my fake husband in play rehearsals. I think it was a subconscious way to avoid kissing him.
- I would ignore my budget and willingly go into debt for U2 tickets.
- And I'd probably take a year between college and the real world and travel far, far away.
- Oh, and I would not tell the lead singer of Shepherd Hall that his band is going to be huge one day. I was 150% delusional.
- And I probably wouldn't accuse my parents of never having loved me. That was a rough day. High school is torture.
- I would go back to Burnt Church and jump off the bridge into sewage-infested waters.
- I'd relive a few warm summer evenings. A few ice cream cones. A sunrise. New Year's Day at the beach. Midnight conversations. Awkward goodbyes. Sleepless sleepovers. Jam sessions.
- I'd re-stalk my favorite band (this was before the great U2 discovery). And spend that late night in their room, interviewing them as if I were the star of Almost Famous.
- I'd revisit my summer in Stratford. Every moment. Actually, I'd relive every moment ever spent on the stage.
- I'd hold my grandma's hand again. That moment before she died.
- I'd hop on that plane and head west. (Maybe I will...and not abandon my camera this time.)
- And I would totally jump out of the classroom's closet, sword waving wildly, shouting in iambic pentameter. Not all of high school was evil.