Turns out we are all still here…

It is well passed 6:00pm and the world did not end. If it did though I would have spent my last day cleaning up my old room and packing my things for my parents move. Amongst that I would have watched Doctor Who, wrote an email to a friend who is about to get married and made meatloaf. In days gone by that level of stillness would have been sort after. I can dress it up in semantics but when the certain is pulled back, I had a pretty boring day. One void of death and devastation but boring none the less.

We live in a world where I can (dispite awful spelling and general monotony of self) be able to broadcast my thoughts to the masses. That we have come a long way from a bunch of Germans sitting in a cellar attempting to publish pamphlet on how some Prince had an bum for a head because he wanted to introduce a goat tax. Our universe is so soft that news networks are fed into with stories of Super Injunctions about people who, if they could not kick a ball would be cleaning car windows at the side of main roads.

A while ago I wrote a comedy set called First World Problem, Third World Problem. It worked on the premise that really when we think about our lives, they are not really that bad. I would state a first world problem then counter it with a very extreme third world problem.

Two examples were-

FWP: Sussana, I have burnt the broad-bean risotto and the guests will be coming in 20 minuets.

TWP: I have not eatern in 6 days and I have lost the use of both my kidneys.

or

FWP: Oh no our curtains do not suite the rest of the rooms general ambiance.

TWP: My village has been burned down but the Rebel Army.

I liked it, sadly I think it may have been a little to preaching/thinky/not cock gag/not belittling women/not a pun for the Open Mic London scene. Still it plays upon something we all have in one way or another: Survivor Guilt. We have had since the 70s, images beamed into our house of those suffering. From earthquakes to famines to this moment of horror. Now though we don’t just get it in a our living room but every room. We have a unyielding live feed to our iPhones, iPads and one day our iBrains. All connected to this ever lasting guilt trip and Angry Birds.

It explains why religious conmen get away with abusing people faith to give random dates for apocalypse and we are so numb from the good life end up falling for it all. Albert Einstein once said “It has become appallingly obvious that our technology has exceeded our humanity.” He said this before WiFi, mobile phones and the Double Down Chicken Sandwhich. I guess he would be calling for the rapture too.

Well here we are again

It did not occur to me that I could do this again after a good 4 years avoiding the realm of blogging. The self imposed exile was largely down to the word blog. It is an awful word, created by people no doubt thought New Speak was a good suggestion when they read 1984. That is if they read 1984. I am giving these people the benefit of the doubt.  I think it is because it sounds like bog. Which mean on one hand a wet, swampy ground with soil composed mainly of stinking decayed vegetable matter. The other a childhood slang word for the loo. Either way the word blog is awful.  I can not think of a better alternative. Which says a lot more about what I think of my own writing than I care to admit.

Yet I hear you cry: You are meant to be a former English Student! Is this not your thing? Well that and getting drunk? You are right on all counts. Only the word journal sounds like I should be written by some pulp novel adventurer. The word diary sounds like I should be telling you about my first period and how I will be getting braces. Reckoning sounds more suitable if I was describing the invasion of a faceless horde on East London.  Memoir is pretentious and biography too clinical. So I am left with blog.

In a few days I would have landed and be sitting in a bar in New York. Due to the international nature of the World Wide Web this little joy could a be lost on a few. It is funny because ten yeas ago I was in this boat too. Jobless and ready to take on a new decade. At the time as of now I thought it wise to go off and look after other peoples children. Well the work now is different, I am not going to be working with the campers but the staff. Still with the age difference I guess then and now it really does not matter all that much. Yet if you are still reading then in the next few months we both should find out.