I suppose there are two main reasons to stop updating your blog.
One, you’re too busy. That has been undeniably true up until recently. Hunting for work, moving from friend’s sofa to little brother’s room in hometown to sister’s spare room to Leamington Spa in a matter of weeks, starting my first full-time job in eight months, scraping the rust off various parts of my brain, getting to know lots of new people… Yes. It was a busy time, but that was weeks ago. That excuse has expired.
Two, you have run out of things to say. Hopefully this is not the case. I mean, all that stuff I just mentioned, for one. Why so quiet here, when my life has been so busy? It’s a new chapter, so why not talk about it?
I suppose because… I don’t trust it yet.
Wait, I need to cover something first. This blog primarily gets read by a small handful of friends and family who follow the link on Facebook. I guess other people find it by chance too, but I’m not sure how. Through WordPress itself, presumably. Or the tags? Whatever. Hello to the strangers! Welcome! I can’t imagine what you could possibly get from this/these, but welcome nevertheless!
When I started my new job at Radiant Worlds, I added a few people as Facebook friends. This might well be the first post of mine they read. A second first impression, of sorts. That gives me pause for thought, you know? I’m still the new boy, and a lot of the people there have been working together for many years. There’s a process. I need to integrate.
And yet… trust. Starting this new job, living in this new house, it may as well have “TOM STARTS A NEW CHAPTER IN LIFE” stage directions written in the margins, but I have been taught over long years not to trust new chapters. They tend to end sooner than you think, and happy endings are few and far between.
I have absolutely no reason to believe that SkySaga will be anything but gloriously successful, and very much hope to be involved in the design and narrative of the game for year to come.
But I’ve had good feelings before. I’ve had cool jobs before. I have been sitting at my PC, eating chocolate, playing videogames, watching YouTube, wondering what to buy on Amazon with the funds from my awesome job many many timers before.
I have lost my job nine times. Nine.
I don’t want to hit double figures while I’m still in my thirties. Well, ever. I cant’t face it. Calling my Dad, asking if he can book a day off to drive my belongings to some new town. Again.
It’s getting old. And it’s not the only thing.
Generally, if asked, people guess that I’m younger than my actual age. Now, given that the Western world seems to revere youth with a kind of frothing, wild-eyed hysteria, I guess that’s a good thing. A compliment. The thing is, I don’t really mind getting older. I suppose as a man that’s yet another privilege – I am supposed to mature like a fine wine or cheese, rather than grow haggard and bitter. It’s all bullshit really. Look exactly the age you are. Why wouldn’t you? Why shouldn’t you? What’s so special about being young?
I hated my twenties, for the most part. I feel a bit sorry for anyone still enduring that awkward decade. The thirties are so, so much better.
The other weekend I was out with people from work. I think most of them were mid-twenties, or thereabouts. We went to the pub, then on to a club to dance. I don’t really dance. I have to be really drunk, and I don’t like getting really drunk.
Right there on the dance floor, it occurred to me that I started doing this twenty years ago, before most of these people I was with were even at school. I was eighteen when I first stood in a dark room, squinting against the colourful flashing lights, trying so very hard to understand why it was supposed to be fun. Not just fun, but a central pillar of my social life.
These days, I still feel pretty underwhelmed by the whole experience, but I’m much less worried about having to fake it. I’m thirty-eight. I don’t have to fake anything any more. I like what I like. I don’t have to know the latest memes, hit singles, anime series.
You know what I like? Wrestling. This evening I bought like eight different themes from WWE wrestlers, just because I love the show they’re on. Wrestling is commonly perceived as childish, embarrassing, cheesy, naff. I don’t care. Listen to this.
It’s fucking GREAT.
I’m getting old. There’s less and less time, less and less willingness, to edit myself.
I don’t want to stop writing this blog. One of the main reasons, truly, is stubbornness. It’s one of those things, like a gym membership, that almost seems defined by the number of people who commit to it in good faith, only for that commitment to crumble in an instant. Momentum. Momentum is so important in life. Turning the engine over can be a horrible, grinding, repetitive process until it finally roars into life – but once it has, you can just coast, with the wind in your hair. Momentum. It was actually martial arts that really taught me how valuable it is, and it’s just one of many transferable lessons.
By Jove, how I ramble sometimes.
This hasn’t been a particularly focused post, but as I mentioned – you guys reading it don’t actually outnumber me by very much. I am almost sure I could take you all if you attacked me at once, even though technically I never got to multiple assailants training with Cambridge Kung Fu…
This whole endeavour is as much for my benefit, allowing me to work through a specific process, as it is for your entertainment/edification. Sorry.
Oh, and while I’m scattered all over the place anyway, you should really watch The Man Who Knew Too Little. It’s not the best film ever, but it does star the mighty Bill Murray, and if you’re a cinephile you will probably recognise almost every other actor in the damn film. Crazy cast list.