Life Notes #1

I'm getting old. I hit my early twenties this month, officially.

Two decades and a bit I have graced this planet and I don't feel I have been appropriately prepared for the next four to six decades never mind this fearsome decade of choice and new experiences.

There is no book I can read to help me, there were no designated lessons at school, no documentary or television series to watch and make notes and when asking those older than me I don't think they really know either. 

So mainly, I thought that should I write what I stumble across so that should I happen to pop some sprogs out in the future I can smugly say 'here you go, sproglette one and sproglette two, never fear for the great dreaded growing up can be fun' or can safely say 'sproglette, growing up is stupid, ridiculous, too serious and I wholeheartedly recommend that you avoid such a preposterous notion and go skip in the fields of wonder without responsibility and stress'.

And that, my future spawns of my own, is lesson number one. You will not know how to approach life as it's one of those things that is unique to everyone and with new technologies and hurdles, there's no one set person to help or show you the way. 

BUT! my life experience is pretty much next to nothing, I'd give it until Life Notes #459 or near enough until you get to read something truly useful or noteworthy.

This whole fiasco of realisation began when I rediscovered bands I had listened to from the ages of 12-15 roughly. This is nearly a decade ago, half my life so far, a turning point. Not that it matters (but it may throw others into this spiral of despair I'm currently going through) the bands in question are CKY, HIM, Trivium, The Blackout Pact, Alexisonfire, Bullet For My Valentine, Placebo, Alkaline Trio etc. 

I had joyously added them to my ipod, perfect for total immersion on public transport. Super! I couldn't wait, it was going to be wonderful and my journeys would be transformed from the dire ones of late. Off I trotted.

I got on the bus. I sat nearish to the back, headphones in, gazing out of the window. I was really enjoying myself. Smiling remembering when a song that doesn't so great to my ears now was back then, the greatest thing I had ever heard and would ever hear.

I remembered I used to listen to a lot of these bands on my bus journey to high school. I put on one of the songs I pretty much listened to on a daily basis as I neared school when I realised this was the same bus journey and I was about to go past my old high school. 

The old trepidation and sickly feelings returned. The anxious habit of playing with my nails returned. 
How strange? I'd left six years ago, vowed never to return and had gone past the place countless times without a second (or first) glance. 

This was the kickstarter.

Six years had passed. 

My plans from that time have largely not came to fruition, not in part because some were mildly ridiculous and many have changed or evolved but it did start me off thinking incessantly about my future. That big old bleak black hole looming in front of me, behind me and over me. 

I concocted a plan. A plan for the future of Carys and mankind.

Come back to Life Notes #9,871 to see if the plan works. 

What's that? Woody Allen? Make plans to make God laugh?  Don't be absurd sproggie, how do you even know about Woody Allen at your tender age? And God? Don't get me started. You've a lot to learn, Sprogmeister go back to Life Note #78. There will be a test on it over breakfast.