In a few hours, Curiosity will land on Mars. It is amazing, the things those Americans do even when they’re supposed to be past their glory days. I hope it doesn’t blow up, and finds water or 3-nippled-aliens or something, so I can see humans walking on Mars in my lifetime. Little dreams.
In a few hours, I will suddenly be a year older, as if I weren’t steadily hurtling towards death with each passing day. But I suppose we like our little milestones, our neat divisions and labelled sections to help us make sense of this mess.
Anyway, since I spend an inordinate amount of my limited time thinking about such things, here are some questions for future me, to be answered ten years later on this night.
Are you doing what you want? What is it?
What/whom do you love? List all applicable answers. Don’t say why.
Are you dying to do something, to get somewhere? If so, what are you doing for it.
What are you most afraid of?
Do you have a child? Why?
Sub question: Are you teaching it to be a punk? How?
Name your friends. How many of them have you spoken to in the last 2 months?
Are you still using Facebook? [If answer=yes, exit( ); else, goto next;]
Do you have more money than you need?
What was the last thing you did to make someone smile?
What’s the bravest thing you’ve done lately?
If you met me,
Wait, I’m not sure this is a good idea, actually. It just struck me that if things don’t work out so well, future me might have some uncomfortable questions for present me. He might even lose his decency; want to take it outside and all. Who knows, he might be that sort of asshole. Not that it would matter. I won’t exist any more. I’d be past me.
There was a point somewhere. An important point.