I haven't posted a proper blog in bloody ages. I have this strange personality trait: if I don't do something for a long time, I start to question why I even do it. Like going out. If I have a long spell of not going on a night out, I wonder why I even do it in the first place, I have a little strange argument in my head, and talk myself out of doing it, time and time again. Then, eventually I will go out, have an amazing time, and later have the same argument in my head asking why I would ever want to stay in of an evening. Are you with me? Is that normal?
Either way, I keep picking up my phone or my laptop with the full intention of writing a blog, then I think "why am I even writing a blog?" and I end up on Google, looking at pictures of Nicole Scherzinger's rear end.
So, why blog?
I started this because... Well, see my first post, it was just something to do. But now? Now I guess I just want to have something saved somewhere. I want the crap that is in my head to be etched, forever, onto a tiny piece of cyberspace.
The fact that people are actually reading this is very flattering, and I love you, whomever you are, for taking the time to read this shit! It's true purpose though, I have discovered, is for me. I hope I continue writing it for a long time, to see how my thoughts and opinions change over time. Maybe the person reading this is me, with a greyer beard, a balder head and sorer feet. If that's the case, Hello, Old Me, sorry I am not more entertaining. Are you using futuristic 4D virtual reality to read this?
I have thought about my life a lot recently. I am coming towards the end of my prime, next year I turn 30, my chances of becoming a rock star have all gone, and I haven't really achieved anything.
That's a very intense thing to say, "I haven't achieved anything". I have a house, a job, and I come home to a smoking hot girl who's company I enjoy (old me, you best still be with Jen), I have made the most amazing friends and have the most amazing memories with them, with plenty more to come.
10 years ago, however, I don't think this is how I pictured myself. The only similarity is that I didn't want kids then, and I don't want kids now. Maybe I thought I would have a better job, and more money, and a grown up passtime, like guns... Or golf. I think I thought I would have responsibilities. There it is, the key word, responsibility.
I have done my best to avoid responsibility for my whole life. I always seem to link power and responsibility with stress and worries. Perhaps 28 years of Spider-Man and Batman have put that idea into my head. Anybody who knows me, though, knows that I lead a pretty stress-free, laid back life, and I like it like that (I still find plenty of things to moan about).
So, when will I start being responsible for things? When will I achieve something? I didn't even learn to drive until I was 26. I learned to drive, I crashed my Mum's car, I bought a new one, it cost loads of money, I got caught speeding, twice, my insurance went up, I got stressed, I was skint, I sold my car.... Shazam! Stress gone. See my point? So the question is, do I want responsibility? The answer right now is No. I am happy!
I will one day, I know I will, I'll get bored, when that day comes, I will get a dog!
I haven't really given Old Me an insight into how the world was when this was written, have I? I have just wrote about what a lazy fuck I am.
Well, Old Me and whomever else is still reading, I am writing this on a smartphone, and it is taking much longer than I had hoped, because I have a song I heard on the radio stuck in my head. The song is by Pitbull, who is crap, and the lyrics go
"grab somebody sexy tell them "hey, give me everything tonight, I want all of you tonight, because we may not get tomorrow"."
.... Imagine if I actually did go up to a sexy girl, GRAB HER and say
"Hi, I'm Foxon, I want you, all of you, and it has to be tonight... We might be dead tomorrow",
I would get a slap! Maybe even a stiff knee to the balls. Who knows, maybe I would be dead the next day, because of the bouncers in the club beating me to death for sexually harassing somebody sexy. Stupid song!!
Ok, this is the end. I will try to not leave it as long next time. Best go wash the dishes, and not go on Google... I hate having responsibilities, did I mention that?
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