Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance. Choose fixed-interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. choose leisure wear and matching luggage. Choose a three piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mine-numbing spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself.
Choose your future.
Possibly one of the most famous quotes in modern day literature/film and usually seen in the form of a dog eared poster stuck on the wall of both men and women aged between 16 and 24.
Currently at that stage in life where I no longer have the comfort blanket that is uni, I find myself thinking what do I want in life. Having had nothing to do these past couple of days I have being filling my time with films. 500 days of Summer, Quadrophenia, A Clock Work Orange and of course Trainspotting in case you were wondering. That iconic quote got me thinking...wow is that what I have to look forward to at the end of it all? Who knows? I guess I'll have to let you all know in 50 years time. Now excuse me while I go and sit on the sofa watching re runs of 'The Fresh Prince of Bel Air...