Culture

A Letter To My 17-Year-Old, Too-Clever-By-Half Self, By ABC Grandstand’s Adam Collins

Adam Collins, a former Prime Ministerial adviser and senior staffer to Wayne Swan, pens a letter to his 17-year-old-self.

Brought to you by UTS:INSEARCH

Brought to you by UTS:INSEARCH

If youth is wasted on the young (someone enlightened said that once, right?), what would you have told your 17-year-old self? Together with UTS:INSEARCH we approached some friends of Junkee and asked them to pen a letter to their younger self as they prepare to head out into the big wide world.

Today we have Adam Collins, a former Prime Ministerial adviser and senior staffer to Wayne Swan when he was Deputy PM and Treasurer. Adam is now a cricket writer and broadcaster with the ABC’s Grandstand.

Hi mate,

I’m writing this to you after having commentated an Australian Test match on radio. You’ll like the sound of that; I trust it’ll buy me some time.

We need to recap where you’re at.

You’re a bit of a contradiction. Head full of steam after a high-school exchange year in the USA, but desperately insecure. You spend hours surveying our acne-riddled skin, a bad habit you take too long to escape. You think you’re bright, but you’re too smart by half.

You need the structure of uni; it serves you well. But you turn it into a to-do list, rather than something more nourishing. Because you’re in such a hurry, you get ahead of yourself. It will annoy others then as much as it does me now.

The good news is you will work all this out in time.

The sleep-deprived and destructive world of politics becomes your most complicated relationship; especially when in Canberra. But for the deception or worse, there’s a camaraderie that you thrive on. Remember to forgive quickly because you’re nowhere near as good at hating as you purport.

Value your girlfriends. One will provide the guidance to help you play catch-up on music and find the sticky dancefloors that become your haven. But you will be well behind on words and culture. Believe me when I say that you’re missing out.

There’s a key moment down the track when this will smack you in the face. You’ll be holed up in a Berlin apartment when a crisis of confidence hits. Maybe you’ve made a professional success of politics – advising a Prime Minister, trusted by a federal Treasurer – and worked at the best Olympics ever held. But still: it won’t sit right. You’ll feel one-dimensional. It’s because you are.

“Read and read and read, then write,” you’ll post on Twitter that New Year’s Day. (It’s a thing like MSN Messenger, but then nothing like it at all. Get a good account name as early as possible.) This is the catalyst of the most important shift of your life. Until then, your drive is a mix of admirable and obsessive, but it leaves too much of the picture without colouring-in. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be a politician, but realise now that the best of those have a lot more to offer than winning the grubby race to the bottom.

With that in mind: bulk up now. Read the classics. Read anything. Force feed yourself art. Write before you know how to do it properly; there’s no manual. You’ll find a way — you always will — but the shortcut is the investment when time isn’t so scarce. Make it a habit.

Speaking of habits: your predictable heart. What appears inconceivable when looking in the mirror now is that you could bounce from relationship to relationship from now until beyond your 30th birthday. This is madness. You could be on both sides of the cheating and dishonesty that follow not having the guts to walk away, nor the assurance to be left. Think of it like a cricketer: retiring early is better than hanging on too long.

Oh, bloody hell, cricket! Don’t drive to Cricket Australia’s office in Jolimont to mount a one-man protest when they drop Mark Waugh. It’s a great yarn, but he won’t be overly impressed by it when you get the chance to relay it years later. Play more when you’re decent, though. You know that bad back? It’ll become a tricked-up shoulder quicker than you realise. Don’t take for granted the freedom of fitness.

There’s a school of thought that young people on the cusp of their adult lives should say yes to everything. You’ll buy into this advice as you get older because you’re not going to follow it now. You’ve got the bits in the right places, but you don’t know the truth or anything like it.

But: knowing this is the key. Embracing your ignorance is the answer. This is the bit I want you to remember most.

Because by doing just that you’ll meet the most creative and beautiful people. They’ll help with those missing parts, and the colouring-in.

The friends you’re starting to make now are going to be defining mates. After standing next to them at the footy you’ll do likewise on their wedding days while reflecting on the times when you were both just a username in an online forum. You are lucky.

Get your act together with Mum and Dad. It’s one thing I’ve never worked out, and after the upbringing they gave you that’s not good enough. Do me a favour and sort that out now? They only want your time. On the other hand, you’ll grow closer by the year to your brother — especially when you stop trying to make him you.

My time is limited; I have to run. You’ll use variations on this every day, but it’s true today as any other. Just don’t keep people waiting; you’re not that important.

Read and read and read, then write.

Don’t wait.

Make the most of your 17 year old self today! Don’t look back in 10 years and have to scold yourself for not trying everything. If you didn’t get into uni this year don’t give in, there is another way – INSEARCH.edu.au

UTS:INSEARCH is a service that helps you find another way into UTS. Check it out here.