time travel

Dear future me,

Welcome to my new blog. Or rather, your new blog. Actually... I guess from your point of view, it'd be your old blog. Sorry, this is all terribly cute and self-referential - like here how I'm pointing out how self-referential it is. Remember when you used to be cute?

Remember when you used to live on Claude street, how your old ASUS laptop would overheat within seconds of starting up and decide to stop working, so you'd try and balance half of it off the desk to help the heat dissipate, and how even after moving to Preston and bought a brand new laptop you still dangle it off the desk out of habit. I wonder if you still do that.

Remember when you used to write notes to yourself to find in the future, like on your old nokia flip-phone. And you'd be so giddy with the thrill of allowing your future self to interact with a younger you. Remember when you admired yourself so much that you couldn't wait for yourself to meet yourself again. And you don't know where that old nokia has gone now, or what it looked like, or what the message said. Only that you set an alert for it to re-activate at some absurdly distant date (2007? 2020? 2700?) fully expecting to still have it on hand. And how you've realised that that old nokia phone is kind of a perfect metaphor for your boyhood. 

Remember when you wanted to write a story called westward the course of empire takes its way set 5 months in the future that predicted a dystopian universe where Trump wins the election, and that you never got round to it, and November came round and Trump won, and life got a whole lot stranger.

I used to think about time a lot, but these past 6 months, I haven't really thought about it much at all. It's strange. I'm reminded of that bible verse: Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. I always thought it was the Bible's version of saying seize the day, but maybe it means looking at life from a different perspective. Viewing it with a wide angle lens. That's a bad analogy.