It's Too Late To Apologise (Sorry About That)

Hello, I used to do a blog, remember? Well, here we are again. Topics. Topics, topics, topics.

Guilt's a nice good one, isn't it? Not cheery, but you can milk it quite a bit. Well, okay, I feel guilt of some form on a daily basis. I feel guilty that I'm a relatively comfortably-off white male living in a democracy that has enough of a socialist foundation (though for how much longer??? SATIRE) to mean that I will probably never starve to death. I feel guilty that I don't face oppression or conflict. I feel guilty that I spend my time feeling guilty instead of using my position to bring about better well-being for others. I feel guilty that I'm writing about feeling guilty, because I'm making it seem as if I actually do have a problem that's larger than the problems I feel guilty about not having. Multi-faceted, y'know?

I feel to some extent guilty that I can't in any way accept the opinions of people with different ideologies with my own, and I feel guilty that although I rationalise this by saying I'm annoyed at their unshifting positions influenced by their upbringing, that is an exact description of my views as well.

Guilt isn't necessarily always backed up by solid evidence of your wrong-doing, often it's completely hypothetical. In fact, I would go as far to say that guilt is strongest when it's illogical and based on nothing; guilt based on something real will fade when that real thing disappears, for example the mistrust of a friend - when they go back to trusting you the guilt tends to fade away. With illogical guilt, the proof is all in your mind, and as such is much harder to dissolve. Try telling an arachnibutyrophobic that peanut butter sticking to the roof of their mouth isn't the end of the world. It'll make no difference, because logic doesn't always beat the lack of such.

I don't really know where I'm going with this. Probably just an angry teen defence to be told "You don't know how lucky you are." Because I do. And I feel bad about it. Sorry. Sorry for being sorry.

Lists

Books I am going to read

1. Midwinterblood - Marcus Sedgewick
2. Oblivion - Anthony Horowitz
3. Insurgent - Veronica Roth
4. 1984 - George Orwell
5. Bad Science - Ben Goldacre
6. Amo, Amas, Amat, And All That - Harry Mount
7. The Autograph Man - Zadie Smith
8. Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
9. The Dante Club - Matthew Pearl

Books I want to re-read

1. Divergent - Veronica Roth
2. Holes - Louis Sachar
3. Completely Unexpected Tales - Roald Dahl
4. Revolver - Marcus Sedgewick
5. We - John Dickinson
6. The Thornthwaite Inheritance - Gareth P. Jones

TV shows I want to watch

1. The Walking Dead
2. Breaking Bad
3. Parks and Recreation
4. Arrested Development
5. Firefly
6. 30 Rock
7. Fringe
8. Heroes
9. Lost

TV shows I want to rewatch

1. Community
2. Doctor Who
3. That Mitchell and Webb Look
4. The IT Crowd
5. Father Ted
6. Sherlock
7. Misfits

This makes up for an actual post, right?

Dear Michael,

I've been thinking about you for quite some time.

Doing research, in fact. Working out what you're like. More like remembering, actually.

All so I could write this letter to you. I feel that I'm coming across as mildly deranged, a bit of a stalker. Well, to add to your discomfort, I am at this very moment sitting in your house, using your things, and talking to your family.

Because, Michael, I am you. We're not entirely the same, otherwise there would be no point in having this conversation. No, there is a big difference. A year's difference, to be exact. You are standing at the start of 2012, whereas I am about to venture into 2013. We're quite different, you and I, and on a day of rash promises and self-reflection, now is the perfect time to talk to you.

Let's start with a low point - and let me tell you, this isn't enjoyable to say, any more so than it is enjoyable to hear. You are awful. You are really, really godawful. If it wouldn't rupture the space-time continuum, I would slap you. You're a third of the way through Year 10, and you've just found your niche in life. You have achieved membership into the friendship group you'd eyed up since year 7, you've stepped out of that ghastly period of self-piteous moping that plagued the school for all of Year 8, and you're in a new class with great people. You are, in truth, very happy. And because of this, you are a smug little arse.

No, don't try and protest. I've looked up every Facebook status you are about to make in January, and let me tell you, the sheer reek of superiority is nauseating. You think you're God's gift to the Earth. You toss witticisms and 'fuck society'-esque messages to the people, like a king tossing bread to the poor. You make observations that aren't fit to pave the floor of Memebase. You smirk to yourself, relishing in how much better you are than the unenlightened masses. You have no concept of living-and-let-living. You are Narcissus, and I am grimly pleased to tell you that 2012 is the year that you starve by a leafy poolside.

Essentially, you have gained enough intelligence to make you self-confident, but not enough to let you know that there is nothing big or clever about personally attacking people who aren't like you. I've thought about this for a long time, and I've come to the conclusion that because you spend a lot of your time apologising for being a dick in Years 7-9, you think that this means you can be a dick now. It's never crossed your mind that you might need to undergo a second stage of self-improvement, has it? Mull it over.

Well, now that we've covered a rather touchy subject, let's be more positive. I am not a brilliant person by any means, but I am safe in the knowledge that I am at least a little bit better than you. 2012 is the year that you grow up, Michael, and it's an embarrassing, awkward, but mostly very happy experience. Here are the steps that help you in your personal growth.

1. You join Tumblr. After the first few weeks of long text posts and bad self-analysis, you start to fit in. You learn a good deal about feminism, LGBT rights, the fluidity of sexuality, the concept of 'colour-blindness' and how it does more to increase racial inequality than decrease it, and generally how to tolerate people. Even more crucially, you learn NOT to be a social-justice blogger, and to laugh at life and enjoy how fucked-up everything is.

2. You read Zadie Smith's White Teeth. Which is a fantastic book, full of life. It's colourful, essentially, and I slightly envy you because you still have the pleasure of reading it to come. As a novel about three generations of mad, angry, funny, swearing Londoners of varying ethnicities and religions, it basically opens your eyes to culture, and how joyous, how downright bloody marvellous it is to live in Britain, full of so much diversity, full of good people and bad people.

3. You join Twitter, and it appeals to you. However, soon a group of people use your Twitter in order to find somebody's Tumblr, to find a post that discussed them in a negative light. You leave your personal account, finding everything a bit too bitchy, and retire to your secret account, which is only known about by one person. Until recently, but you don't have to worry about that yet. You have no audience, and nobody really cares what you tweet for a long, long time. You become a little more humble. Then things get better. You make lots and lots and lots of friends, and although you'll laugh at me, you'll get to a point where you love them. You meet sixth-formers and uni students, Year 8s and adults, people from everywhere from Cornwall to Lincoln to California to Nepal. Gay, straight, bisexual. These people will become so close to you that you will announce to them all your deepest and most personal secret, one only known by you, them, and one other confidant. Brace yourself, Michael, because you make said account to gain an audience, but what you get is a bizarre, messed-up family. This is by far the most significant change in 2012. Embrace it. Oh, by the way, Richard Osman from Pointless retweets you and an American journalist you respect a lot calls you 'very kind' and thanks you for your feedback. Oh yeah.

4. You lie to your parents to leave the house and meet a girl. No, not like that. A year would not be enough for you to become a womaniser. No, you spend three hours drinking one coffee and apologising for wronging her in the past, and she takes it very well. You'll know who I mean, because you feel guilty about it, and continue to feel that way until this meeting occurs. You build some bridges, my friend. You are, if not forgiven, understood.

5. You know the secret I mentioned? Well, you probably don't even know what I'm talking about. You go through a gradual journey of self-discovery, twee as it sounds, and go from considering features of yourself to be a possibility to accepting them as one of your defining characteristics. It feels really good, by the way. Ooh, I feel like Obi Wan Kenobi, being all irritatingly cryptic.

6. You achieve things that made you feel genuinely proud. Not arrogant, boastful, or smug, but genuinely proud, in a small and warm way. You are going to spend a good amount of time talking to some very sad people, two of whom considering suicide. Don't look daunted, it all turns out fine. You make a difference to these two people lives, in an extremely minute way, but it still makes you feel happy. 

I've been a bit too harsh on you. I'm sorry. You do try, Michael, and by no means am I the best person to lecture you about how self-absorbed you are. I am still far from a good person. But I'm confident that one day I'll get there. We'll get there. I'm making my new year's resolutions now, and you'll be making yours, I seem to recall. Well, what you wanted to achieve never happened, but some far more important things did. I can only hope that on January 1st, 2014, I'll look back at this post and think "Little did I know what was in store." Happy New Year, Michael. Oh, and cut your hair.