Monday, 12 March 2012


I'm taking a self imposed Twitter break, its a short story but I'm not telling you, I can be coy if I like, it's my Blog. Now this time has given me a view to do other things when I would normally be staring at a small screen and shooting the textual breeze with my tweeps, things like reading and writing and cookie making and well, other stuff.
Over the last two days I've been digging into Time magazine which has a feature on the ten ideas that will change our lives, it was riveting. What could I do but dive into the future concepts that some clever people claim will revolutionise our way of life and alter our perspectives forever? I read with enthusiasm about 'Black irony' and 'Cloud memory', and wondered at the the many ideas that could push us into the future like the normalisation of singular living and then I got stuck. Oh dear. Now what? What did my brain do that stopped my championing of new learning? It was the idea of niche ageing.
Now don't get me wrong, the idea of retiring in a community of like minded people was quite appealing and I read with interest until I slammed into a script idea, focusing on such a living arrangement. The laughs I'm sure would be endless but then I stumbled and realised I wasn't laughing with the old people...but at them. How shallow.
Why could my brain not formulate a place where I could see this working for me? Why could I not take this concept seriously?! It took me some time to cut through the crap and the defences, dodge the defender and head for goal and there I stood in front of it and I felt very uneasy. Very uneasy indeed.
You see I have no idea what life for me will be like at that point. No idea what condition I'll be in physically or mentally and even though I have a fairytale retirement in mind I have nothing in which to make it actually happen. No massive pension, no huge promotion or shares to balloon into a nest egg, there isn't a provision or a plan, just a fumbled want and a dream to not be impoverished and bitter.
I wanted to be someone important and I have succeeded; I am important to my wife and children, but is that enough? Should I find something that will make me important to all? Is that what writing is for me? The promise of a pay check and a place in a magazine about fabulously clever people? No.
No, I don't write because I just don't want to work, I write because I want too and dearly wish that I was good enough to be paid for the privilege. I want to entertain and provoke others to think about what I'm thinking about and maybe have them say to themselves 'I disagree with him' OR 'I agree with him and will read another one.'
I don't know what my future has in store for me, I cannot say. I hope it will be sprinkled with enough success to keep me and those I love when we reach an age considered to be old. I hope I find that spark of wonder in someone that tells them that enough people would like what I write and I hope that it happens sooner rather than later.
In the end I know hard work and never giving up may get me somewhere, wherever it may be. I will need to make sure that what I continue to do is write what I like, what I find interesting and what I feel is important or entertaining. In short, I have no plan and no map, just a far off mountain and maybe just enough energy to get me up the damn thing.
Hope and a prayer sends me into the unknown.

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