Snap out of it, boy. C'est time to do something with your life. Two options (not counting fatal diseases). The first is for me to become an artist; all I need do is photograph, paint, sculpt, knit my body doing bizarre things. Fame is mine. (Fame). The biiig problem is thinking what bizarre things to do with my body, set up the camera (because you've gotta photograph yourself anyway before you can paint I might just stick with photos; it's far easier) and find some way to fire the camera without moving out of my carefully constructed position. Actually the camera stuff is probably not too hard: I can probably find a website somewhere that'll talk me through it step by step, but the whole thinking about what of myself I'm gonna photograph, and coming up with some explanation that I can pass off as meaning sounds too much like hard work. There's also the nudity factor: artistic photos of me in some bizarre manner must, for reasons best known to Juana Rodriguez (singer of No Sympathy), contain genitals. The world would see the scars.
The far easier option is to compete in the Olympics (topical eh?). It's a long, hard journey fraught with peril at every step, but one that will be worth it when I take my place alongside great Olympians like that one who won when no-one thought they would, the one on drugs, and the one who lost when everyone had bet millions on them. The first step, as you might expect, is to become a political prisoner. I'm not quite sure how I'm gonna do this yet, but I can't imagine that it's gonna be too hard. History is riddled with political prisoners; what makes them any different to me? A cause? I'm gonna be a freakin Olympian, what's more of a cause than that? Next I flee the country, sellotaping myself to the bottom of a plane, or hiding in a laundry basket; within a week or two I'll find myself claiming asylum in one of those comedic countries (you know the ones, the minor ones with either a Y not at the end, or riddled with Ks, Zs and all those other high-scoring Scrabble letters).
It's around this point that I must decide which sport to dedicate my life to. I'm thinkin' archery, shooting, something like that. I don't expect to do well, but that's not the point: if you're from some minor country as long as you turn up they've gotta let you in - it's in the freakin rules, man. I considered, as well you might, running in the 100m or something like that, but I reckon the pride in scoring nothing in archery or shooting is something that can never be surpassed. I'd be an encouragement to children worldwide to take up sport: "Fuck, I can do better than that". Maybe I'll shoot a couple of times to practise, make sure I know which way to point my weapon of choice and all that jazz. Maybe not. Why worry about all that?
I'm so excited; I'm going to the freakin Olympics. I'll be famous, people will remember me for years - and even if they don't I can turn up four years later, and after that and on an on: I'm young, and I imagine that if you're not at the peak of the sport that you can continue for years and years. Herein, however, lies a flaw: I can do this at any stage of my life. Why be an Olympian now? Why go to all that effort when I can do it later? Sometimes you've just gotta go for something and do it, so you may well see me competing in Athens; most of the time it's far easier to stagnate, so you may not. If I'm not there in four years time, just think to yourself "I know someone who could have been there if he could be bothered."