I would’ve held on to the one that got away…
Go to London, find a young Englishman named Andrew Lloyd Webber and get him to marry me or at least get pregnant by him, which wouldn’t be too difficult in 1969.
This is one of those catch 22 scenarios. I know there is a bunch of stuff that I messed up on and would maybe like to change. However, at what point would the changes for the better change the person I have become?
Part of me wishes that I hadn’t been so lazy my first time around in college, but if I didn’t go back to school, I wouldn’t have met my best friend. If I had finished USC, would I be more sucessful financially at the cost of being one dimensional and ignorant?
Pretty interesting question. If I had a choice, I’m not sure I’d want to relive life all over again starting at 14 since I’m happy with the way things have turned out. BUT … since there is apparently no choice involved in the OP question, I’d first try harder to not be as shy around people when I was 14 and in the 9th grade. I would get involved more with school activities and eventually choose a career with greater awareness of the future world. For example, I would try like crazy to be one of the first employees of Apple or Microsoft! At the very least, I would sink whatever money I had into their stock. I would also make some very shrewd bets on sporting events like the SuperBowl and World Series that I follow well. Since I would know how the health of my loved ones will evolve, I will advise them to get the required checkups earlier than what “previously” transpired, and this might prolong some of their lives. And finally, I’d get into real estate a lot sooner. That’s it.
1982-83.
I’d tell my mom, and prove it to her when the shuttle explodes. I wouldn’t try to stop that, even though she worked at NASA- I’ve seen too many reports of how warnings about the explosion risk went unheeded. Nope, it’d work better as a proof to the select few I’d tell.
Anyway, my mom would THAT VERY DAY go into the doctor’s office to be treated for her undiagnosed heart problem, the one that kills her in four years. She’d stop smoking, if I had any say in it.
I don’t think I’d bother staying in High School. I’d probably just ace my GED and get out ASAP.
I would avoid Lisa’s party, so I’d never meet my ex. My son would never be born… but I suspect that he’d never be born even if I tried to, since no matter what I did, I’d inadvertantly change something. Better to not even try.
I’d go to Austin, and find Denis. He’s the only friend I’ve got that’d believe me, and have a good idea of what to do with my knowledge.
I’d get in early at Origin, and out before it went bad. I’d borrow money from my family to invest in Dell and Microsoft- it wouldn’t take too much to get really freakin’ rich. I’d get into the dotcoms, and get out before the crash.
I’d buy property in the town I’m in now, anticipating the real estate boom.
I’d do everything I could to prevent 9/11, as anonymously as possible.
Woohoo!! It’s 1967, the Summer of Love, and I just turned 14. What to do first? I guess hug my Dad. It’ll be good to see him again. And generally figure out how to deal with seeing dead (dead in my 2006 reality) people all over the place.
I wonder if I avoid all the brain-cell killing activities this time around it’ll improve my memory enough to actually remember stuff (like who won the '71 World Series or what year the Pope was shot) so I could bet on stuff and make a profit.
Definitely STAY HOME on the evening of November 18.
Stay in my home town. Go to college and become a nurse. Keep my child. Marry Pres.
Remember that I WILL get old, and that no one, NO ONE, lives forever.
I’d cause a hell of a lot more trouble. I was too “good” in high school. My going back with the knowledge that there’s no such thing as a permanent record would make 1989 a very different year for a lot of people. 
I’d be inclined to do the same things–but the first one is likely to result in a full-court press to find you in November '83, along with some very uncomfortable conversations with the FBI if they do.
I’d dump most of my friends, study my ass off, never touch a cigarette, and spend most of my time with my mom since I’d know she didn’t have much time left.
But when I turned eighteen I’d still flirt with that guy on Beale Street, so I’d not lose out on having my beautiful daughter. Although it’d be mighty hard since I’d know he’d end up ruining our marriage.
I think it would be very hard for me. My life is crazy but going back knowing what I know now could break my heart or drive me insane.
14 years old puts me in 1995. Yahoo! IPO.
Other than not being fabulously wealthy, I think I’ve done pretty well. I would start dancing a few years earlier, though.
Mine are all personal, hope that’s OK.
If it’s at the beginning of 14, I’d know my bio mom was about to show up and tell me I was adopted. I’d at least be better prepared. I’d ask her more questions and make her tell me about my father and not disappear from my life while I was still reeling in shock.
Then I wouldn’t let my adopted mother get away with “I don’t want to talk about it, that’s old news.” I’d tell her, “Mom, if you continue to treat me like I don’t deserve to know about it and like it’s a dirty nasty secret, the feeling will eventually extend to me and I will feel like I’m the dirty nasty secret. This will taint our relationship forever, causing me to rebel and you to completely clamp down, assuming my rebellion means I am instantly going to get pregnant.”
Maybe I could have healed our relationship before it got so irretrievably damaged. Just maybe.
Agreed. But I can handle it: letters put together wearing latex gloves, copied on a busy library copier in between other pages, mailed from a mailbox in a city a few hours away. I’m confident that I can get anonymous letters mailed out in such a way that the 1983-FBI can’t possibly find me.
Gee. Having the mind of a 22-year old in a 14-year old’s body would wastly improve my education. I wouldn’t need to do anything, I could just keep on going and nto try to stick out like some genius that needs to skip classes (which would come back at me later on, it would alter things too much).
Most of all, I would want to relive my youth with the things I see now. I can read people in a whole different way and I am much more fluent in social constructions. Basically, I’d try to be a good guy but with more finesse. I’d listen to Bud Powell when everybody else was just discovering Radiohead.
With the confidence, charm, wit, and general comfort that I now have with myself and others, I’d not be so god-damned shy and I’d turn my high school experience into the most John Hughes/Ferris Bueller bacchanalian romp ever. There is no finer time in a person’s life than 14-18, and most of us are too neurotic and insecure and hormonal and spazztastic to actually enjoy it and make the most of it.
Age 14=1962.
Assuming it’s a total do-over:
- Study my ass off instead of slacking off, no matter how bored I get. Get the As on the report card.
- Graduate from college in 1970 instead of screwing off for several years before going back.
- As soon as possible, open a good savings plan and start packing the money into it. Make the afore-mentioned purchases of Microsoft, etc.
- Travel a hell of lot more while I’m young enough to enjoy it.
and on a more personal note:
Knowing what I know now about the erotic arts, my relationships with three young ladies during my junior and senior years in high school will be WAYYYY different.
Hmm. 1992, eh? Worst year of my life, as I recall. However…
I’d go back, and do it all over again, pretty much exactly the same. I might avoid certain people in the halls, maybe hang out in a slightly less conspicuous spot so I didn’t get beat up again, and perhaps withhold a couple of witty comebacks that earned me a black eye or two, and do my homework… but otherwise, I’d do it all the same, even though it was hell. I’d just not stress over it, wondering where I was going or what I was doing. I’d date the same people; not because I loved them, but because without each of those key people in my life, I would never have met my husband, who I am very, very happy with.
Or, maybe I’d just look him up and skip all that crap inbetween. 
However, I think we both needed those really bad relationships to become the people we are today, so maybe that wouldn’t be such a hot idea…
Hmm. Maybe I would just go with the stocks… I had a friend who was… nah.
I don’t think I can change anything. Even the shittiest moments were crucial. I’m too happy today to want to change the way things happened. The things I am unhappy with today, I need to change today. Back then, it wouldn’t have helped.
Damn. I hope I wasn’t a spoilsport, here. I really thought I would have changed a couple of things. I guess not.
I would practice my violin and viola more, and try not to be such a huge dork.
Oh No Please dont make me! Please. I’ll do anything, let me wake back up as an adult!
Or I would call up a guy that I know now had a crush on me then, he is pretty wealthy now. Don’t tell my husband
that would be 1976 for me.
I would not stumble down into depression (which became apparent only in hindsight).
I wouldn’t just go out with a boy, just to be going out. I wouldn’t let them do any number of things to me, just to be seen as “cool”.
I would concentrate on my writing, and NOT go into nursing. I would have pursued being a librarian. OR taken my dad’s offer of a free ride through med school and become a doctor (I thought I wasn’t smart enough to be a doc–then I met some docs…).
I would certainly run the other way, when introduced to my husband (but then, I wouldn’t have these 3 lovely kids–I might have 3 other lovely kids…hmmm).
And I would never have cut my hair short.
No money schemes or plans to save the world-sorry!
I would heed the advice that came earlier in this thread and keep it simple, just one little change.
I was 14 in 1983. I wouldn’t be beating myself up over my parents’ still-fresh divorce, or the fighting my older brother would constantly start with me because of the bullies at his school who made him feel like a poor outsider. (We didn’t have money problems, but he went to a private school filled with the children of millionaires.)
No, I would call 911 when that strange phone call came in that September afternoon. I didn’t hear any words; it sounded like someone dropped the phone right after they dialed.
Turns out, my dad was suffering from a heart attack. I don’t know why he called the house and not 911. I didn’t get a chance to ask him because he died three days later.
I’d gladly trade in all the pre-IPO tech stocks in the world to have been with him when his first heart attack came, maybe I could have made a difference.