Thirty-three. I was surprised how many people asked if I was celebrating. Did anyone celebrate their thirty-third birthday? Surely I'd reached a point where another year didn't require the whole flaming cake fiasco. Fair play to my hero of a mother, who trekked up to Blighty and took me to Fat Burger.
I'd wanted to try that place ever since Vince told Brian to go get a double cheese and fries for $2.95. Sixteen years of inflation and the fact that it might not have been the same Fat Burger had rendered the quote hideously inaccurate but I'd go back there. Think Five Guys with juicier burgers and fewer fries.
The next morning, I'd be heading down to Kent to see dad, which came with the two-for-one deal of visiting grandad. Apparently he'd reached the stage where he was asking the same question repeatedly. This got me wondering what it would be like when the smart phone generation reached dementia age. Would we start to see hundreds of Facebook posts in quick succession, all asking when Billy was coming home?
Maybe Facebook would auto-detect duplicate posts. Digital memory replacing the failing physical one. It might make for better conversations. I wondered whether he'd still be able to play a game of cards. I decided to take one down there the next time I visited.
My sister got me two books. The first was Who Stole My Cheese, which was about two mice, who one day lost their cheese and had to learn how to get on with life, instead of sitting around worrying about it. The second was called Stop Thinking, Start Living by Richard Carlson. It was almost like she was trying to tell me something.
I'd read Who Moved My Cheese before and it was one of my favourite books. In fact, I thought my brother-in-law might have lent it to me. Either that, or I'd bought it, lent it to someone and never seen it again. That was the usual fate of the books I liked. I was pleased to receive another copy. Now I could stop wondering "Who Stole My Who Stole My Cheese?"
I took a peek at the Carlson book. "Simple ways to let go of negativity and discover lifelong happiness." It sounded horrible and potentially dangerous. Still, I decided to honour my sister by giving it a read. Afterall, I was thirty-three now. It was about time I learned how to write delusionally basic self-help material for vulnerable people.
I'd wanted to try that place ever since Vince told Brian to go get a double cheese and fries for $2.95. Sixteen years of inflation and the fact that it might not have been the same Fat Burger had rendered the quote hideously inaccurate but I'd go back there. Think Five Guys with juicier burgers and fewer fries.
The next morning, I'd be heading down to Kent to see dad, which came with the two-for-one deal of visiting grandad. Apparently he'd reached the stage where he was asking the same question repeatedly. This got me wondering what it would be like when the smart phone generation reached dementia age. Would we start to see hundreds of Facebook posts in quick succession, all asking when Billy was coming home?
Maybe Facebook would auto-detect duplicate posts. Digital memory replacing the failing physical one. It might make for better conversations. I wondered whether he'd still be able to play a game of cards. I decided to take one down there the next time I visited.
My sister got me two books. The first was Who Stole My Cheese, which was about two mice, who one day lost their cheese and had to learn how to get on with life, instead of sitting around worrying about it. The second was called Stop Thinking, Start Living by Richard Carlson. It was almost like she was trying to tell me something.
I'd read Who Moved My Cheese before and it was one of my favourite books. In fact, I thought my brother-in-law might have lent it to me. Either that, or I'd bought it, lent it to someone and never seen it again. That was the usual fate of the books I liked. I was pleased to receive another copy. Now I could stop wondering "Who Stole My Who Stole My Cheese?"
I took a peek at the Carlson book. "Simple ways to let go of negativity and discover lifelong happiness." It sounded horrible and potentially dangerous. Still, I decided to honour my sister by giving it a read. Afterall, I was thirty-three now. It was about time I learned how to write delusionally basic self-help material for vulnerable people.
8 comments
Hmm, didn't know it was your birthday. Sorry I can't send you a real koala, but I will put my thinking cap on.
Happy belated birthday.
"Delusionally basic. " hmm the simple advice in life is often the best.
The best advice is often the most useless.
I don't follow the reasoning of that? How is it useless if it's the best?
I'm sure I have been given some good advise in my life but am equally sure I've never followed any of it, otherwise I'd be able to pass it on.
"We all do what suits our purposes" is about as profound as I can come up with.
I was just trying to sound smart, yeah you've seen right through it. You can ignore that comment from me :) :)
I like it! :)
You are very smart, just be yourself.
I've learned alot by watching other people's mistakes. Still make my own, but it's all a learning process.
Post a Comment