I have been coping with a writer's block for the better part of a year.
A normal person would probably decide against starting a blog right about now. I am not a normal person, and should this allotment of the Internet's endless ether prove an extension of myself, neither will this blog.
The problem, I suspect, is that I am truly and utterly incapable of asking for help. And on the rare occasion where I do succumb to the pressures of assistance, I am truly and utterly incapable of believing a word they - "they" being parents, classmates, friends, pity-friends, random city-dwellers - say.
In a fit of desperation/mis-placed pride/procrastination, I optioned for an experiment: to make contact. With myself. From the future.
How, you ask? It's quite simple, actually. Well, simple provided you have a rudimentary grasp of quantum travel (specifically, the process of fashioning dark energy into electrostatic, mass-free magnetic pockets in space.). It's science stuff, trust me.
Anyways, with luck, I expect to establish contact with...me, in the next few days, provided my calculations are correct (and I have no reason to doubt myself.)
If you are reading this, Jon, please leave a comment in the field below, with the first coded message I've hidden buried under the oak tree near the house where I (we) grew up. It's in a plastic container, near McHugh's remains. Please refrain from exhuming our his remains (unless science has progressed enough to allow for him to be cloned back to life.) An amusing fact about me would also suffice.
Other than that, I guess that's it.
JPS, signing off.
Is this account still active?
ReplyDeleteWell, if this works:
Hey, it's me! Jon! From the Future!
I can't believe this blog post survived as long as it has. The "coded message" you (we) stowed away didn't last the thirty-eight years quite as swimmingly. Also, the homeowners called the cops. Talk about paranoid!
This is exciting! Imagine my surprise when I boot up my iEye 4 (its a retina-based computer that interfaces with you brain, but more on that later) to find a familiar message among the mountains of spam and erectile dysfunction medicine coupons that piles up in my inbox. (You'd think by 2049, we'd have collectively solved Internet spam.) FutureMe.org pulled through after all this time and now, thirty-eight years later to the day, I'm posting on the same very blog.
I can't wait to tell you the weird stories that make up our lives. It's quite an epic, if I say so myself, full on intrigue and suspense, great triumph and pitiable failure. We've become quite a remarkable person, all things considered.
Well, I must be going. Rather busy, so you probably are too.
I hope to keep in touch so long as this connection holds.
JPS (2049), signing off.
Good idea adding the year next to our initials. Should help alleviate some of the confusion of CARRYING ON A CONVERSATION WITH A FUTURE VERSION OF MYSELF!
ReplyDeleteThis is CRAZY! Took you long enough, but thanks for keeping in touch. I'm a genius for making this work! Sending a message forwards in time and all...
JPS (2011)
Ah, yeah...that didn't work. I'm the one doing the time-travel here (living in the more futuristic setting and all...)
ReplyDeleteYour blog post just happened to stay active for so long I was able to locate it and respond. My quantum computer is forwarding my messages back in time. Why? Because it's cool.
Good effort, though.
JPS (2049)
haha I think this is quite clever. I like the idea of writing to your future self- it almost makes you feel like you are writing to another person since your future self is going to be a bit different from your current self. Cool idea! Reminds me of those time capsules I had to make in elementary school or letters that teachers had me write in sixth grade to my eighteen year old self (those tricksters never game me back my letters when I graduated high school as they promised...psht).
ReplyDelete@Becks
ReplyDeleteHe'll actually get to read what he wrote later on. I'm sure it'll be fun reading this.
Aw, shucks guys...
ReplyDeleteJPS (2011)
How long can one man talk to himself? Let's hope until the semester is over.
ReplyDelete