But things nonetheless.
Thing #1
On Monday, it was my birthday. I'm now 28 years old. And 40 years young. Which makes me -12. Which coincidentally is also my shoe size. I have trouble finding socks that fit correctly.
I'm not a big fan of birthdays. They don't depress me, but they don't impress me. I like to avoid attention, I'm not too fussed about presents and I have a pathological fear of accurate badges.
I should check what I've written about in past years to make sure I'm not repeating myself. And then I can copy them out to make sure I'm repeating myself verbatim.
In 2007, I wrote:
I suppose I should write about my birthday.
I'm not doing anything special. In fact, I'm at my desk, at work, and it feels just like any other day (except I've been decorating Christmas trees).
But still, I am 25. 25 years. It seems like a pretty long time. 25 is really the first of the landmark birthdays to be a negative one. 18 is fine, it means you can legally drink. 21 is a coming of age thing. 25, though. You're grown-up then. At 25, I could be on Friends (the first series).
I think your prime decade is probably 25-35. After that it's essentially downhill. And I haven't really got as much going on in my life/career/experience as I'd like.
By now, I should have toured with a punk band or invented a cylindrical waffle or made my first million. At this rate of income, I'm not going to make my first million until I'm around 100. And that's if I don't spend any of it, which seems unlikely. The chance of me resisting ordering a Domino's pizza for the next 75 years isn't high.
I'm not crazy about birthdays. I think the mother should receive gifts on the anniversary of their child's birth instead. They did all the hard work. Except my mum had a Caesarean Section - lazy.
My disinterest in my birthday is made worse by the memory of how excited I used to be at this time of year.
I couldn't sleep. Birthday then Christmas! Brilliant! But now I feel cynical and old.
25.
To be honest, my age doesn't really bother me. But lack of achievment is. I think the coming year will be a big one.
I'll be sending off writing everywhere and trying to find some calling. In a year's time, if I'm still writing this blog, I'll be able to see how far I've come. And I'll realise that I'm still an office temp with delusions of grandeur, and I'll pierce my temple with a stapler.
Oh well, at least Lucy's made me a spectacular cake!
(That's made a cake for me, rather than making me into one. Although, rest assured, if I were a cake, I would be fucking spectacular.)
Well, I'm not a temp anymore at least. And Lucy made me another spectacular cake! I took photos of it, but can't seem to extract them from my phone.
In 2008, I wrote:
Me, December 13 2007: To be honest, my age doesn't really bother me. But lack of achievment is.
[2008 Paul - Man, my grammar was used to been rubbish!]
I think the coming year will be a big one. I'll be sending off writing everywhere and trying to find some calling. In a year's time, if I'm still writing this blog, I'll be able to see how far I've come. And I'll realise that I'm still an office temp with delusions of grandeur, and I'll pierce my temple with a stapler.
Well, I'm not an office temp anymore! I have a permanent office job! So. That shows you, you idiot of the past! What do you know? (By the way, place a bet on Sarah Palin being nominated as the Republican Vice-Presidential candidate - you'll make a million pounds).
I still have delusions of grandeur, but I think that's a pretty good quality to have. If you're going to have delusions, they might as well be grand. And if you actually have grandeur (without the delusions), you're probably a bit pompous and annoying.
What kind of fool has grandeur? I'll tell you who: Terry Wogan. A year on and not much has changed.
But at least I've been doing something creative. I've written poetry and made a video. That's something.
I'm also doing a job that I don't hate, with people I don't want to stab. That's also something. Ricky Gervais was 40 by the time he made it big. I've got ages. In fact, I'm probably trying too hard, if anything. I might have all these blog entries pulped (e-pulped) and start smoking, just to give my inevitable success a little bit of suspense... [boring reviews edited out]
All in all, I'm quite happy at the moment. I don't think there's any need to pierce my temple with a stapler. It would be difficult to do.
Of course, the question is, what will I be doing in a year's time? Probably writing a defensive rebuttal to the 2008 Me explaining that although 2009 was the year I lost all my friends and became homeless, I'm still living a full life vicariously through the marionettes I've made from cigarette butts and rat-hair.
Well, 2009 Paul, I just want to say: you have my full, misplaced confidence. After all, this is a team game. I, 2007 Paul and 2006 Paul are all behind you.
(2005 Paul didn't want to join in. Twat.)
I didn't realise I was that self-indulgent so early. I didn't even notice my 2007 grammatical mistakes this time around. I must be getting old.
(This may get confusing. Just so you know, everything in black text is 2010 Paul)
I don't remember writing any of this. I'm as excited as you to know what happens next!
In 2009, I wrote:
It's just about my birthday and I'll cry if I want to. I'm my own man. Ain't no onion gonna tell me what to do!
[then a long, serious assessment of my teenage years and the film Grosse Pointe Blank]
So, I've started this birthday with feelings of nostalgia for an old film, which is itself about nostalgia. A little bit self-indulgent, but it is my birthday after all.
Anyway, I like over-analysing things. If you take things apart and scrutinise them, it makes the whole seem that much more wondrous.
I'm 27, but I'm still romantic and optimistic and excited by the world. Which sounds like arrogance.
It is arrogance. But it's also a big compliment, and a big thank you, to my parents, which makes it a bit more palatable.
That's it. I must have forgotten about the whole talking to future Paul thing. I do it in my anniversary posts anyway, so I shouldn't overuse the clever device. (I also recognise my self-indulgence. That's like double self-indulgence. Which is fine.)
Would 2007 Paul be happy with the things I've done since, and where I find myself?
To be honest, he probably wouldn't really care.
Hard to imagine, I know.
In conclusion: I'm doing fine at 28.
Thing #2
I got my hair cut.
That's two separate words. A noun and a verb (I think).
I also had a haircut.
That's just one word. A noun (I think).
Well, I had my hair cut, had a haircut and had several of my hairs cut.
And had a harecut.
And a boycott.
And had my boys cott.
(Hang on, I think this is heading into interesting territory...)
And...
my...
uh, Herr? Cut?
(I was wrong)
Here I am:
For most people, this would be the scariest picture they had of themselves. For me: ... top 5. Probably.I've messed around with the colours and stuff. Lucy says I look like I'm wearing eye-shadow. Which I don't need to do. I have lovely eyes.
Look at me up there. Staring at you.
Yes: YOU.
I know what you're doing right now.
You should be ashamed of yourself.
And me.
I have short hair and a big, fluffy beard. I think I look like an interesting action movie villain. My friend Katy says I have an upside-down head. Another friend, Holly, says it makes my head look big.
But I like to stand out from the crowd.
I'm fearful and middle class, so my only means of expressing my status as a heroic indie pariah is by wearing a long leather coat, and having a terrifying head-enlarging, head-rotating beard.
I like to scare people as a political statement.
And I like to be mocked by my friends.
Which is also a statement of a sort.
I'm not one of those sheep that has a small, right-way-up head. I'm bringing down the government with the glare of my purple eyes.
Thing #3
I'm on holiday. Not sunning myself in Acapulco. I hear going there can lead to serious mental health problems
But I've finished work for two and a half weeks. The longest I've had off since starting my job.
I'll try to use the freedom to write more of these blogs.
Currently I'm a bit downbeat due to being buried in snow and poverty. But I'm sure my mood will improve with every delightful shopping trip and novelty bear.
What a world!
What? A world?!
Waterworld.
(Hang on, I think this is going somewhere...)
...
Wart.
uh...
whirled...?
...
....
*cough*
I should... probably... you know... head off now...
...stay ahead of the weather and stuff.
No comments:
Post a Comment