Young Guns and Thundercats
Benj wrote an interesting piece in Filipino Voices, which had me – for the better part of six warm San Mig Light bottles at last night’s gig – thinking about the words of the man. Me and Benj aren’t close, although I’m sure that the Philippine blogosphere has more than enough room for a couple of young firebrand atheists (after all, the Philippine blogosphere had room for an anarchist like myself). The Ca t. Nothing more, nothing less. – Marocharim
It would be well if, in studying the past, we could always bear in mind the problems of the present, and go to that past to seek large views of what is of lasting importance to the human race.
– Arnold Toynbee
They say that the sins of the father are passed upon the son.
I think the most sobering thought about being a “young gun” is that, one day, I’ll be a “thundercat.” Five years, ten years, or even twenty-three years from now, I will probably have to swallow everything I ever said, and every ideal I stand for. To have a place in history is not a spontaneous instant: it is a commitment. Five years, ten years, or even twenty-three years from now, I hope that when I read every bit of the poison I spewed in The Experiment over the years, I could look back and still stand for the same thing.
While I do agree that the old are not beyond salvation, the same thing applies to the young. If the youth remain closed to ideas on change and improvement – no matter where they come from – then they are beyond salvation. As long as history takes its course, change is imminent. People will change, no matter how old – or no matter how young – they are.
I’m just 23 years old; the world is my apple, and I’ll eat through its core. Yet every day and every year that I grow older comes the challenge for me to make something out of myself. To be part of history; to be history itself. With youth comes the opportunity not to atone for the mistakes of the past, but to be absolutely sure that when I grow old, the young people who follow in my footsteps will not be ashamed of me. That I did not fail the next generation.
Five years, ten years, or even twenty-three years from now, some young kid will come up to me and ask me what I did to improve their lives, what I did to change things so that they will not suffer the same indignities I did. I don’t want to end up without answers for those children that gives them the license to spit on my grave in contempt for letting them down. I don’t want to go down in history as a guy who did nothing to make the next generation’s life better.
The arrogance of my generation will bite us back in the end. Just like the previous generation did, when the thundercats were like young guns like us.