Monday, July 2, 2012

Behind schedule

I'm a mark for Google stuff. Most of it, at least. My Android phone -- an HTC Desire -- is an intolerable piece of poo, and I plan to go back to using an iPhone as soon as the next model is released. But Google's software stuff I like. I'm writing my book, Tales of a Toffee-Covered Llama, in Google Docs, for example. I've used Gmail since those heady days when I had to beg Rex Sorgatz for an invite. This blog is hosted by Google affiliate Blogger. I still quietly hope that G+ will someday actually take off. And I've used the Google Calendar feature for pretty much as long as it's been available.

I carry a special fondness for the calendar. I love its "Exists Everywhere" nature, available any place on any platform, which makes it far more relevant to me than those old-school things one has to carry around. Those things are silly and frustrating. They get lost or forgotten and are too easily made messy with scribble. Google Calendar is easy to use and can be accessed from any web browser. It is the bee's knees. I wish they were paying me to say that.

From time to time, I like to click far ahead on the calendar -- several months or years into the future -- and leave little notes for myself. Messages from a former me, in the form of reminders. When doing this, I generally try to click ahead at random and pay no attention to the day in which I am leaving these notes. The idea is for me to forget about them and for my former voice to occasionally pop up and remind me of who I wanted to be.

One of those notes from long ago showed up recently, on 20 June.

"Buy a house," it said.

That's pretty ambitious -- not the sort of thing most people can do on a whim -- so, it must have been written some time ago. Perhaps it was written back when I was still proofreading news copy in Saint Paul. Perhaps it was written before the whole Move To Wales idea was really formed. It is strange to think of myself then, and I wish I could send a note back to him. Though, I don't really know what I'd say.

I think about that a lot: the "If I could speak to my younger self" scenario. It's a dangerous one. I'd like to somehow avoid all the terrible heartache, but still come out of it more or less where I am. More or less. Obviously I'd like to have saved some money, so I could afford that house I wanted.


Jenny P said...

Send yourself an email using I got one on my 30th birthday that I'd written years and years ago, it was crazy!

Huw said...

One day, one day................