It’s May 2008. Almost seven and a half years into the 21st Century, and with the exception of the lack of a Cold War, the world in many respects my life seems the same. I’m ready to move on. Give me The Future™ goddamn it. I’m not talking about atomic powered flying cars. Fuck atomic powered flying cars. That’s the fantabulous future of 1972. I’m tired of retro. I’m ready for the post-oil economy. I want the post-oil economy to exist before there’s no oil. I’m tired of carbon emissions, and global warming, and all that shit. It’s well past time that we’ve solved the problems and moved on.
I’m still a slacker, and I’m mostly satisfied with my life, I want more. I’m ready to move on. (No. I’m not stopping before my PhD.) I want real money. I want a real place that I don’t have to move twice a year. I want new stuff. I wrote in my molekine back in September 19, 2006:
I’m at the point in my life where I want my own place. I’m tired of using other people’s stuff. Sharing and what not. I want my own couch, not someone else’s. I want to be able to paint the walls blue if I want.
and while the main impetus of that note has been fixed, it’s still a mainly unresolved urge. Give me the girl, the dog, and the half a million dollar condo in to The Mission. I want the new 17″ MacBook Pro (my G4 is on its last legs). I want the espresso maker, the 43 inch lcd hdtv (well actually, I guess I sort of have that now), the htpc media center, and the swanky geeky pinball coffee table. I want the dinner parties and the vacations in Tahoe.
It’s time to move on.
So yeah, this isn’t so much a commentary on the state of the world, as much as it’s one on the state of my life, but still. It’s time to move on.
Yes, I am well aware how materialistic this sounds, but honestly, it’s more existential than that. And yes, I’m also well aware of how this makes me sound like a yuppie and/or hipster, and I think I’m okay with that. It’s all about the attitude.
