2009 Resolution

I’m a bit worried about 2009. Firstly, because even before the world fell into recession I was barely making ends meet. If everything dries up in the next six months I’m in trouble, and I really need to find new sources of income. So that’s one problem.

But I’m also getting increasingly antsy. I need to do something. I just graze on other people’s content, and nothing I do helps the world in any way. I’m 25, which – despite the never-ending bleating I hear at parties1 – is obviously far from old. But it’s a good, commitment-free age to be doing things, and atm I’m wasting it.

I have a nurse friend who’s volunteering on a ship in Peru this summer – they sail down the Amazon, providing medical treatment to remote communities. This is Properly Worthy. Me, I do nothing. I don’t contribute anything to the skeptical community other than occasional sarcastic fiskings2, I don’t volunteer locally, and my BHA membership is just that. I suck.

This has been building up for a while, but sitting in art theory lectures, discussing how Oyster Cards have “produced a whole new gesture”, brought them properly to the surface. I’ve got to start contributing or I’ll go nuts.

So, resolution for 2009: Fucking Do Something.

  1. if they were joking I wouldn’t mind, but people srsly lamenting their lost youth at 25 drives me mental []
  2. what happened to this word? []

Hey, kids

I was thinking: if I ever have kids, the wonders of internet archives mean that everything I’m currently writing will likely be available to them. In fact, it’s possible they’re reading this post.

Um, hi.

So this is me at 22. I don’t know anything. To be frank, the concept of fatherhood scares the hell out of me. I haven’t figured out myself yet, let alone any idea of how to raise anyone. What did I do about Santa? I don’t want to lie to you, but I know how wonderful the idea of magical reindeer etc. can be, and it seems a shame to deprive you of that. What if one of you wants to be a boxer, or takes a liking to blood sports? I deplore those things, but I can’t tell you what to think. I think that smacking a child is morally wrong, but what if it’s an evolutionary fact that some children cannot learn without the threat of physical force? I hope not, but it’s far from obvious. What do I say to you about the incessant cruelty of some people, when I haven’t figured out how to deal with that myself yet?

Do I play games as often as I can? Do I fill the house with books? Do I let you do what you want, within reason? Do I encourage everything you want to do? Do I answer every question as well as I can? Did I teach you the scientific method, then leave you to form your own opinions on everything? As of now, I can’t see why I wouldn’t do any of these things.

One thing I’m pretty sure of: if you ever want a book, I’ll get it for you. Everything else I guess is up for negotiation, but books are too important; as long as it’s affordable it’s yours. If this isn’t the case, I’d better have a damn good reason.

Phrases I don’t want to say:

  • while you’re living under my roof
  • because I said so
  • blood is thicker than water
  • childhood’s the best time of your life

If you catch me saying one of those things then – well – I’ve clearly taken leave of my senses and deserve to be beaten around the head with a book on decency.

I think.

What I’m trying to say is: it’s tough being a parent, so you should buy me cookies and surprise gifts as often as possible. I think that’s only fair. You should encourage your mother and grandparents to do the same.

Just so you know, I’m currently listening to an iTunes playlist comprising of David Gray, KT Tunstall and James Blunt. Are they really old fashioned now? Nah, I’m sure they’re still good – all that modern music just has no tune 🙂 And, if you’re looking for a decent birthday present, a jetpack would be nice. I’m sure they’re available by now. Ooh, one more thing: if your mother puts up with me, she must be very special indeed. She’d probably appreciate a hug right now, too.

P.S. About the middle names. Them’s the breaks, I’m afraid. They’ll grow on you – really.