I feel like I’m Michael Rosen, starting a story with the subject and then moving on to the rest of it. You know, “My dad. My dad was a bricklayer,” and so forth. But this is a subject that probably needs addressing on this blog as I have a couple resolutions of my own this year that I only want to keep for 21 days. Sadly, I’m already pretty lax on two of them. However, there’s a slight catch: I can’t say what they are. I cannot tell you what my new year’s resolutions are, because ever since I was a child, the only way for me to be responsible in any manner was to keep all of my good behaviour a secret.

I don’t know how many other people are this way, but I’m interested in finding out. If I want to motivate myself to do something, I cannot tell anyone I’m doing it, because the moment I make it public, the pressure on myself (from myself) doubles and I immediately quit for fear of disappointing everyone I’ve ever known. It’s not like anyone but me is invested in any of my goals, but I get so afraid of being a disappointment that I shut down and end up doing all of the things that disappoint everybody. Does that ever happen to you?

I’ve been this way nearly all of my life with everything. Or at least, anything I’ve ever kept a track of. The only way I learned to play guitar was when I was alone in my room working on it my way. I can really only keep this blog up for so long before remembering that there are people reading it and counting on me–or perhaps just casually browsing the stuff I put up on occasion. But the thing is, at least one of the things I’ve picked as a resolution for 2012 is something very public and daily. I have to do it every day for three weeks so that at the end of that 21 day period, it’s a habit that’s engrained in my mind. It’s something I have to do or I’ll feel off all day–like spending a day without brushing your teeth in the morning. More than your poor dental hygiene bugging you is the splinter in your mind of not having done something you do every day.

I missed posting yesterday and that was a disappointment to myself. I was at a house party a classmate was throwing while her parents were gone. Lessons a mutual friend learned in house parties: European immigrants party hard. I’d forgotten this in the years since I was last invited to a party at a Romanian girl’s house. But those people will be dancing until four in the morning, screaming all the while, drunk off their ass with not a care in the world before you can say “I’m a bit tired” and excuse yourself. But I was only there until 11.

After that, Ailish and I went to A&W, whom I believe had mistakenly left their front door unlocked. The cashier looked rather surprised to see me, but he still took our orders for chicken strips, onion rings, a cheddar bacon Uncle Burger, fries, a root beer and a float. Polite guy, did his job well. I would’ve tipped him, had I not paid by debit. A&W is some seriously underrated fast food stuff, but I feel like every time I mention something specific that I’ve done in a day, then it’s just an advertisement for something I’ve done. So while the food is delicious, I urge you to find a local diner equivalent that sells root beer and root beer floats alongside their delicious beef products and chicken sandwiches. Buy local; support local. The national doesn’t need you anyhow.

Then, when I got home at midnight, I finally found a spare block of time where the fifty inch plasma screen that I’ve got my PS3 hooked up to was free. Midnight to 4am! So, I immediately texted Chad and we spent the next four hours thinking with portals in co-op. It occurred to me at 1am that it was half past the future. Here I was, a hundred years after the world was thrust into trench warfare, when boys my age were shipped overseas to die because some white dude shot a richer white dude, and I was interacting with a friend of mine across the city in a virtual environment built and hosted in California. My commands were transferred to the PS3 wirelessly which then sent that data to the router upstairs in my bedroom, wirelessly, which joined up on a server somewhere with Chad’s data being sent from his PC in his bedroom to give us both the experience of being in the same room, interacting with the same environments through digital avatars that somebody carefully designed to make sure we never got so attached to them that we couldn’t watch them die with a little chuckle.

That. Happened.

That. Is. Real.

We live in a world of witchcraft and we’d all be burned at the stake if our ancestors saw us today. Well, that and they’d ask us why we let the slaves out and why some men were in public romantic relationships with other men. And how we conquered the metal dragons of the sky.

Maybe it’s time we stop appealing to the thoughts of slaveowners and bronze age tyrants and started thinking for ourselves, hm? It’s already half-past the future.