Friday, 25 December 2009
If you ever feel entirely contented with everything, look harder because no one is ever totally alright.
Even if you've got all the things you can think of under control, there is someone out there fucking with your life, and it's more than likely that they're doing it purely for their own benefit.
You may not ever be able to speak to them, or even know who they are, but these people are more in charge of your life than you are.
Fight them. If you're not angry about something in the world, you're dead inside.
When your blood starts to boil use the heat to light a fire under yourself.
Take no shit and fuck 'em if they care.
Even if you've got all the things you can think of under control, there is someone out there fucking with your life, and it's more than likely that they're doing it purely for their own benefit.
You may not ever be able to speak to them, or even know who they are, but these people are more in charge of your life than you are.
Fight them. If you're not angry about something in the world, you're dead inside.
When your blood starts to boil use the heat to light a fire under yourself.
Take no shit and fuck 'em if they care.
This is not the time to speak in abstractions.
I think my time in Southsea is about up, I've been there five years, and speaking purely about the town as a whole (and not my friends, whom I love) if there was genuinely anything magnetic and alluring enough to make me want to stay, I think I'd know where to go for it, and where to find it.
Sure, things are taking form and shape; new friendships, my two bands, and there's always going to be places like The Wedge and The One Eyed Dog which I know I will miss no matter when I leave, purely because of how they fit in with the person I want to be, but the core is this, that in order to become this person, I think my time is up.
I want to see the world, I want to get a job I don't hate, and at the same time I love being able to bump into people I know on random walks round town, and this tight little community I am part of, I want to be somewhere where not everyone knows everything about each other, and maybe even where no one knows me.
I have been offered a job in Crawley, where I'm from originally, and it sounds like something I'd like to do. It's for the local council, working alongside different cultures, and at the same time I would be assisting them in the town, so too would I be finding out more about their own lifestyles and beliefs and everything, and it all sounds precisely what I want to do. I'll be able to put my degree to use in a second role too, filming and editing various videos, which is also something I actually enjoy, as well as proving quite financially rewarding.
Doing this, it would be most sensible to move back to Crawley, and live with my parents, graciously rent free for a few months. Saving up all, and I mean all the money I make, would mean I would most likely be four figures up from my current financial state, and this in turn would allow for some travelling, and then, who knows where, maybe back to Southsea, maybe to Brighton, I don't honestly know.
So what I am trying and I believe failing to say is that to everyone in Southsea who reads this (and I know at least a few do), if I end up moving on soon, I don't want you to think that you aren't important to me, and I don't want you to think it was an easy decision to make. Working on the assumption that I leave, I will be coming back very often I promise. It's just there is too much I want, too much I need, and I don't see any of it where we are right now.
I think my time in Southsea is about up, I've been there five years, and speaking purely about the town as a whole (and not my friends, whom I love) if there was genuinely anything magnetic and alluring enough to make me want to stay, I think I'd know where to go for it, and where to find it.
Sure, things are taking form and shape; new friendships, my two bands, and there's always going to be places like The Wedge and The One Eyed Dog which I know I will miss no matter when I leave, purely because of how they fit in with the person I want to be, but the core is this, that in order to become this person, I think my time is up.
I want to see the world, I want to get a job I don't hate, and at the same time I love being able to bump into people I know on random walks round town, and this tight little community I am part of, I want to be somewhere where not everyone knows everything about each other, and maybe even where no one knows me.
I have been offered a job in Crawley, where I'm from originally, and it sounds like something I'd like to do. It's for the local council, working alongside different cultures, and at the same time I would be assisting them in the town, so too would I be finding out more about their own lifestyles and beliefs and everything, and it all sounds precisely what I want to do. I'll be able to put my degree to use in a second role too, filming and editing various videos, which is also something I actually enjoy, as well as proving quite financially rewarding.
Doing this, it would be most sensible to move back to Crawley, and live with my parents, graciously rent free for a few months. Saving up all, and I mean all the money I make, would mean I would most likely be four figures up from my current financial state, and this in turn would allow for some travelling, and then, who knows where, maybe back to Southsea, maybe to Brighton, I don't honestly know.
So what I am trying and I believe failing to say is that to everyone in Southsea who reads this (and I know at least a few do), if I end up moving on soon, I don't want you to think that you aren't important to me, and I don't want you to think it was an easy decision to make. Working on the assumption that I leave, I will be coming back very often I promise. It's just there is too much I want, too much I need, and I don't see any of it where we are right now.
Wednesday, 23 December 2009
My 2009 part two
Picking up where I left off....
I've got a house now, too, just like real grown ups do. It's rented, I admit, but it's the sort of space I'd be happy to own and live in perhaps, if I lived alone or even more, could just truly make it mine. One room could be a recording studio/practice space (theres that money issue again), one bedroom could be a guest room, or just a place to relax in, and in the garden I'd have friends over in the summer, and we'd have barbeques and talk and joke and laugh. My bedroom would stay more or less the same, I think, with all the little things that have a story behind them on display, aching to be talked about. The house on the whole would be tidy and clean, the decorations on the walls would have character, but also taste.
As it is though, I don't think I'll be staying here when the contract expires. My housemates, let it be said, are starting to change and get more pro-active, which in the last few weeks has been both a surprise and a relief, but I've got this nagging feeling they'll soon fall back into their old routine of laziness, messiness, and perpetually being high, sometimes too much so to pay the bills and rent, both in terms of effort and having spent their money on fucking drugs. All the contracts are in my name, so constantly recieving threatening letters from various companies and authorities, which should really be addressed to them, is not something I am very happy with. I need to have things under my control when it comes to situations like this, and when I was living on my own, I didn't have to worry about that sort of thing because I was the only person concerned and so I knew where the cash was coming from, and going to.
I get all the hippie stoner bullshit too, about how it fights the system, man, and it should be decriminalised to further society, but fuck, they're the worst examples to support that argument. If they're anything to go by, it would only produce apathy, selfishness, and a lack of ambition in mass amounts. There is no glamour or rebellion in lying on a couch playing Grand Theft Auto, too stoned to be trusted to understand, remember or even hold a conversation about why I might have to go to court for tax evasion and it's their fault. And if they try to get me to smoke one more fucking time, I'll lose my shit completely. I've never smoked, not even a single cigarette. I hate smoking. I battled with my dad for years to get him to stop (and this year he did, which made me happier than he knows), and they know that, so how fucking low are you stooping when you literally tell someone, your friend and housemate nonetheless "Before the year is out, I'm going to get you smoking."
So I don't think I'll be staying here when the contract expires, unless they move out. I might ask them to, but then I'm stuck with the hassle of finding two new housemates, putting two new names on contracts etc, and I can't be bothered, this whole thing is constantly tiring me as it is and besides, I think I'm at the point where I'd quite like a change of scenery anyway, even in just a minimal amount. This might mean a different house, this might mean a different town. I've got an escape plan to Brighton all set up in my head, but I need time, money (that bastard) and the confidence to start over somewhere. And I need to be sure that this confidence is not in fact ill considered abandon in a smiling mask.
It might sound a bit weird, or obvious, but in this first post-university year, people have been a big part of my life. They usually are, for everyone I suppose, but this year I feel they've had more of an impact and mattered more than in previous years, with new wonderful people arriving, and old, wonderful people leaving. Just as my story is undergoing a twist, the cast has all changed as well.
There was just the one death in my family this year; an elderly family friend, natural causes. I guess most of the people you sort of expect to go have gone already; grandparents, their friends whom you see as a child, and the like. All but my mother's mother have gone, and I am dreading that phone call, I'll fucking break down and pound the earth when that day comes, and I am terrified that it's soon. This is my biggest fear. I never got to see my other three grandparents, and I need to say so much to her, to ask her so much and to tell her just that one short phrase that says it all. She is not ill, but she is old, and there are no exceptions to how this works.
The funeral for Kaye was perfect though, in that way only funerals can be. I kept composed throughout, shook and struggled a little when Sid kissed her coffin goodbye, now a widower, and then cried alone for a few minutes that night when I got back to Portsmouth.
Others have left me this year, moving away, going travelling and so on. I miss them too, and every time I see them, man, it's just the best. There are a few people who have stayed around, but changed and become distant, and I'm learning to live with that still as there is a unique kind of sadness attached to that sort of disintegration, but every now and then our wavelengths overlap and we get on like nothing was ever any different.
I've had a lot of people enter my life this year though too, almost certainly more incomings than outgoings, and most, if not all of them, have ended up brightening it up a little. I've got myself in a few bands finally, one which allows me to have fun playing the sort of music I love to listen to, and another which is the most pleasingly accurate expression of how I think and feel that I've ever found musically since I started playing guitar over a decade ago. I love both my bands, we're just getting started but the thoughts of what we're going to do, what we're aiming and trying for, and how feasible it is that it will happen, have got me genuinely excited, which is a rarity.
It might sound strange, but I think I keep my friends closer than I keep my family. You see, in my eyes, in my experience, family are almost bound to you, they're so close and inextricably bound to you that there's almost a sense they're sometimes acting out of obligation or foresight in the ways that they treat you. You're stuck with them for life, just as they are stuck with you, and whilst I do love my family dearly, sincerely, there is still that occasional feeling of sheer tolerance sometimes, and of being bound, lovingly, but bound nonetheless.
See, friends, they can ditch you whenever they want. If you act up, get out of line, then there's really, ultimately, nothing to keep them anchored to you if they want to float on. This is why I am truly amazed by friendships, as opposed to familial relationships. For all the times this year I know I've been an embarassment, a terrible person, or just acted in a way my friends didn't deserve, there's been a core who have never failed to give me another go and have always come back for me, and I sometimes feel they see me as being someone better than I even see myself being. I don't deserve my friends sometimes, I don't deserve people like them, who would sit with me through the nights when loneliness may well have been the end of me, or who have thought nothing of answering their phone at some ungodly hour, or who have steadied my hand when I was out of control and steering myself wildly off course into the darkness. Thanks guys, I regret that I don't say it ever and perhaps come across as distant at times, but you've been the world to me this year and I could never express that in a way equal to how much I've felt it.
However, so many of my old closest friends, whom I shared so much with, are gone now that while I feel more secure in myself than I used to, I still feel a little left behind as well, and as I mentioned, this has sparked a wanderlust in me. Doubly, so many people I know are starting to get it together and settle down with someone they love, that I often feel a little left out in that respect too. It seems that as soon as I look for that other kind of relationship with a girl, more than just friendship, then they leave through coincidence and no fault of my own. Just divergent courses in life, wrong place, wrong time and so on, but fucking hell, when four or five of these random coincidences mount up, I'd like to think I can be understood for feeling like I'm jinxed or fucking cursed. These routine disappearances of love from my life are getting too much to handle. I now find myself resisting new intimacy, assuming that this too will soon be gone, they will leave like all the rest, and I know that this is no way to live.
I feel the need to confess that in my mind there is a recurring, precise sight; I am in a house, photographs and keepsakes of lives both seperate and conjoined cover the walls, as if the home was made of our very selves, and there are two children, two girls (Katherine Rose and Alice, whose middle name I don't know but I think is Natalie) and I am married, to someone who, typically, is no longer in my life, and equally as typically, never knew quite how I felt about her, and they are ours. This girl, I want her back in my life quite badly, and I want to tell her that I love her, because I never did, and though I don't expect anything good to come of it and in fact think it would probably be the final thing I ever say to her, I want her to feel the same way and start us on the path to making this sight something real.
My house and my wife and my girls in my head used to scare me when I first began to dream it, but right now, it has grown into a comfort, a some-when ideal. Wishful, futile, thinking.
There we have it though. I've got a life mapped out all the same, and that wasn't there this time last year. It kinda looks like, I want to live in Brighton, with a family, and I think the fact I haven't really got anything further in depth than those two massive yet vague goals is due both to the fact that I know this is a pipe dream that won't all fall into place in the forthcoming year or so, but also the fact that I don't really want much more than that, when I think about it.
I think I've been so busy trying to stay young that I've mostly forgotten that I'm getting older. I know 22 may not seem like much to some, in the grand scheme of things, but in my mind, I am growing older, more distant from my youth and there's nothing I can do to turn back time. This is my life that I am living right now, not some game, and I keep forgetting and forsaking that. If I come across as angry or 'bleak', as the years buzzword seems to have been, it's only because I've realised that life is wasting away second by second and I'm frustrated and wanting more all of a sudden, while not really being in a position to achieve it due to forces beyond my control right now. The decisions that I make from now on will matter, and this is something I must never forget again.
I've got a house now, too, just like real grown ups do. It's rented, I admit, but it's the sort of space I'd be happy to own and live in perhaps, if I lived alone or even more, could just truly make it mine. One room could be a recording studio/practice space (theres that money issue again), one bedroom could be a guest room, or just a place to relax in, and in the garden I'd have friends over in the summer, and we'd have barbeques and talk and joke and laugh. My bedroom would stay more or less the same, I think, with all the little things that have a story behind them on display, aching to be talked about. The house on the whole would be tidy and clean, the decorations on the walls would have character, but also taste.
As it is though, I don't think I'll be staying here when the contract expires. My housemates, let it be said, are starting to change and get more pro-active, which in the last few weeks has been both a surprise and a relief, but I've got this nagging feeling they'll soon fall back into their old routine of laziness, messiness, and perpetually being high, sometimes too much so to pay the bills and rent, both in terms of effort and having spent their money on fucking drugs. All the contracts are in my name, so constantly recieving threatening letters from various companies and authorities, which should really be addressed to them, is not something I am very happy with. I need to have things under my control when it comes to situations like this, and when I was living on my own, I didn't have to worry about that sort of thing because I was the only person concerned and so I knew where the cash was coming from, and going to.
I get all the hippie stoner bullshit too, about how it fights the system, man, and it should be decriminalised to further society, but fuck, they're the worst examples to support that argument. If they're anything to go by, it would only produce apathy, selfishness, and a lack of ambition in mass amounts. There is no glamour or rebellion in lying on a couch playing Grand Theft Auto, too stoned to be trusted to understand, remember or even hold a conversation about why I might have to go to court for tax evasion and it's their fault. And if they try to get me to smoke one more fucking time, I'll lose my shit completely. I've never smoked, not even a single cigarette. I hate smoking. I battled with my dad for years to get him to stop (and this year he did, which made me happier than he knows), and they know that, so how fucking low are you stooping when you literally tell someone, your friend and housemate nonetheless "Before the year is out, I'm going to get you smoking."
So I don't think I'll be staying here when the contract expires, unless they move out. I might ask them to, but then I'm stuck with the hassle of finding two new housemates, putting two new names on contracts etc, and I can't be bothered, this whole thing is constantly tiring me as it is and besides, I think I'm at the point where I'd quite like a change of scenery anyway, even in just a minimal amount. This might mean a different house, this might mean a different town. I've got an escape plan to Brighton all set up in my head, but I need time, money (that bastard) and the confidence to start over somewhere. And I need to be sure that this confidence is not in fact ill considered abandon in a smiling mask.
It might sound a bit weird, or obvious, but in this first post-university year, people have been a big part of my life. They usually are, for everyone I suppose, but this year I feel they've had more of an impact and mattered more than in previous years, with new wonderful people arriving, and old, wonderful people leaving. Just as my story is undergoing a twist, the cast has all changed as well.
There was just the one death in my family this year; an elderly family friend, natural causes. I guess most of the people you sort of expect to go have gone already; grandparents, their friends whom you see as a child, and the like. All but my mother's mother have gone, and I am dreading that phone call, I'll fucking break down and pound the earth when that day comes, and I am terrified that it's soon. This is my biggest fear. I never got to see my other three grandparents, and I need to say so much to her, to ask her so much and to tell her just that one short phrase that says it all. She is not ill, but she is old, and there are no exceptions to how this works.
The funeral for Kaye was perfect though, in that way only funerals can be. I kept composed throughout, shook and struggled a little when Sid kissed her coffin goodbye, now a widower, and then cried alone for a few minutes that night when I got back to Portsmouth.
Others have left me this year, moving away, going travelling and so on. I miss them too, and every time I see them, man, it's just the best. There are a few people who have stayed around, but changed and become distant, and I'm learning to live with that still as there is a unique kind of sadness attached to that sort of disintegration, but every now and then our wavelengths overlap and we get on like nothing was ever any different.
I've had a lot of people enter my life this year though too, almost certainly more incomings than outgoings, and most, if not all of them, have ended up brightening it up a little. I've got myself in a few bands finally, one which allows me to have fun playing the sort of music I love to listen to, and another which is the most pleasingly accurate expression of how I think and feel that I've ever found musically since I started playing guitar over a decade ago. I love both my bands, we're just getting started but the thoughts of what we're going to do, what we're aiming and trying for, and how feasible it is that it will happen, have got me genuinely excited, which is a rarity.
It might sound strange, but I think I keep my friends closer than I keep my family. You see, in my eyes, in my experience, family are almost bound to you, they're so close and inextricably bound to you that there's almost a sense they're sometimes acting out of obligation or foresight in the ways that they treat you. You're stuck with them for life, just as they are stuck with you, and whilst I do love my family dearly, sincerely, there is still that occasional feeling of sheer tolerance sometimes, and of being bound, lovingly, but bound nonetheless.
See, friends, they can ditch you whenever they want. If you act up, get out of line, then there's really, ultimately, nothing to keep them anchored to you if they want to float on. This is why I am truly amazed by friendships, as opposed to familial relationships. For all the times this year I know I've been an embarassment, a terrible person, or just acted in a way my friends didn't deserve, there's been a core who have never failed to give me another go and have always come back for me, and I sometimes feel they see me as being someone better than I even see myself being. I don't deserve my friends sometimes, I don't deserve people like them, who would sit with me through the nights when loneliness may well have been the end of me, or who have thought nothing of answering their phone at some ungodly hour, or who have steadied my hand when I was out of control and steering myself wildly off course into the darkness. Thanks guys, I regret that I don't say it ever and perhaps come across as distant at times, but you've been the world to me this year and I could never express that in a way equal to how much I've felt it.
However, so many of my old closest friends, whom I shared so much with, are gone now that while I feel more secure in myself than I used to, I still feel a little left behind as well, and as I mentioned, this has sparked a wanderlust in me. Doubly, so many people I know are starting to get it together and settle down with someone they love, that I often feel a little left out in that respect too. It seems that as soon as I look for that other kind of relationship with a girl, more than just friendship, then they leave through coincidence and no fault of my own. Just divergent courses in life, wrong place, wrong time and so on, but fucking hell, when four or five of these random coincidences mount up, I'd like to think I can be understood for feeling like I'm jinxed or fucking cursed. These routine disappearances of love from my life are getting too much to handle. I now find myself resisting new intimacy, assuming that this too will soon be gone, they will leave like all the rest, and I know that this is no way to live.
I feel the need to confess that in my mind there is a recurring, precise sight; I am in a house, photographs and keepsakes of lives both seperate and conjoined cover the walls, as if the home was made of our very selves, and there are two children, two girls (Katherine Rose and Alice, whose middle name I don't know but I think is Natalie) and I am married, to someone who, typically, is no longer in my life, and equally as typically, never knew quite how I felt about her, and they are ours. This girl, I want her back in my life quite badly, and I want to tell her that I love her, because I never did, and though I don't expect anything good to come of it and in fact think it would probably be the final thing I ever say to her, I want her to feel the same way and start us on the path to making this sight something real.
My house and my wife and my girls in my head used to scare me when I first began to dream it, but right now, it has grown into a comfort, a some-when ideal. Wishful, futile, thinking.
There we have it though. I've got a life mapped out all the same, and that wasn't there this time last year. It kinda looks like, I want to live in Brighton, with a family, and I think the fact I haven't really got anything further in depth than those two massive yet vague goals is due both to the fact that I know this is a pipe dream that won't all fall into place in the forthcoming year or so, but also the fact that I don't really want much more than that, when I think about it.
I think I've been so busy trying to stay young that I've mostly forgotten that I'm getting older. I know 22 may not seem like much to some, in the grand scheme of things, but in my mind, I am growing older, more distant from my youth and there's nothing I can do to turn back time. This is my life that I am living right now, not some game, and I keep forgetting and forsaking that. If I come across as angry or 'bleak', as the years buzzword seems to have been, it's only because I've realised that life is wasting away second by second and I'm frustrated and wanting more all of a sudden, while not really being in a position to achieve it due to forces beyond my control right now. The decisions that I make from now on will matter, and this is something I must never forget again.
Wednesday, 16 December 2009
My 2009 part one
I think I grew up this year, in the sense that I feel I've stopped being a child in my mind and finally decided to shoulder the responsibilities of adulthood. I'm in two minds over how I feel about this; on the one hand it's sort of nice to feel like I'm actually part of the real world here and there, but on the other, fuck me, there's a lot of things it takes out of you. There's a certain feeling of finality about it which I don't really like, and I keep pushing away the question "Is this is?" which keeps looming at me inside my head.
I mean, I still live a fairly 'young' lifestyle a lot of the time; I go to gigs, I'm perhaps more into music now than I've ever been, and if you're reading this then I'm sure you know that I have a tendency to go out and get drunk, a lot.
But this last point has been fucking with me, for a long time now. Going out six nights a week is hammering me, I can feel it. I'm always tired, there's not a day in memory when some part of me didn't hurt, and financially it's doing me in as well. I actually feel pretty sure I'm not too far from the point of where, if I'm not careful, I incur some sort of major damage to my body, if I haven't already. I mean, I've already got quite a few minor scars from where I've done something stupid while drunk and it's gone wrong, and I've just recently realised that this should probably serve as some sort of wake up call. On a related note, having to go to A&E to get your fucking skull x-rayed, after taking the sort of sucker punch and fall which costs you two teeth and a mobile phone, but next week you read in a local paper has cost a man his life during a random assault and fluke fall in a club, really ought to inspire you to make the most of life, rather than pissing it all away. I've spent so much of this year busy burning the candle at both ends that I've never really stopped to think about the fact that my flame could go out as a resuly. I've come to understand that I truly like being alive. It's useful for doing cool stuff. I also like the idea of being able to remember it. There are photographs of me that are redundant, that don't conjure up memories, because though my body turned up, I simply was not there. That's horrific. So, if the 'days of my youth' are coming to an end, I'd like to be able to recall them when I want something to look back on.
(As I write this, I'm in a pub, and I've not had a drink for 11 days. I've had an unusual feeling growing in me the whole time, something unfamiliar. I think it might be pride.)
I've got a full time job, just like real grown ups do, and I hate it, just like real grown ups do. I think that if you don't hate your job then you're either one of the minority lucky enough to be doing something they like, or you're a little bit dead inside. I feel like I am letting myself down day after day just by turning up and agreeing to submit to a thankless task which I feel no connection to whatsoever. There is something intrinsically wrong about spending more time doing one thing you hate than doing any one of the multitude of things you remotely enjoy. My life for about five months consisted of me waking up, going to work, coming home, having a meal, and going to sleep again. This was me, on a loop. The hours have reduced since, but I still hate it. Still, it comes down to the matter of money. I want to go travelling round the world to various places in the next few years, starting with Kiev in the spring, and then hopefully somewhere else in the autumn, and so on, every two seasons, somewhere new, but it's being able to afford it which is the problem. If I could quit my job tomorrow, I would, but essentially it pays the bills and rent and I need that money. I wish I didn't, and I do wish I worked practically anywhere else, but right now I feel I have to choose safety over impulsiveness, even though it goes against everything I believe in and aspire to be. Almost all my heroes and role models never gave a fuck for work, and just did what they wanted, and this is the lifestyle I aspire to lead, but I don't know, maybe they were just braver, or had more integrity than me. It's thoughts like these that I fucking hate, that's the real issue here. I am currently spending most of my time doing something which makes me feel like a fucking failure and disappointment to myself.
I am a letdown to my own potential.
I mean, I still live a fairly 'young' lifestyle a lot of the time; I go to gigs, I'm perhaps more into music now than I've ever been, and if you're reading this then I'm sure you know that I have a tendency to go out and get drunk, a lot.
But this last point has been fucking with me, for a long time now. Going out six nights a week is hammering me, I can feel it. I'm always tired, there's not a day in memory when some part of me didn't hurt, and financially it's doing me in as well. I actually feel pretty sure I'm not too far from the point of where, if I'm not careful, I incur some sort of major damage to my body, if I haven't already. I mean, I've already got quite a few minor scars from where I've done something stupid while drunk and it's gone wrong, and I've just recently realised that this should probably serve as some sort of wake up call. On a related note, having to go to A&E to get your fucking skull x-rayed, after taking the sort of sucker punch and fall which costs you two teeth and a mobile phone, but next week you read in a local paper has cost a man his life during a random assault and fluke fall in a club, really ought to inspire you to make the most of life, rather than pissing it all away. I've spent so much of this year busy burning the candle at both ends that I've never really stopped to think about the fact that my flame could go out as a resuly. I've come to understand that I truly like being alive. It's useful for doing cool stuff. I also like the idea of being able to remember it. There are photographs of me that are redundant, that don't conjure up memories, because though my body turned up, I simply was not there. That's horrific. So, if the 'days of my youth' are coming to an end, I'd like to be able to recall them when I want something to look back on.
(As I write this, I'm in a pub, and I've not had a drink for 11 days. I've had an unusual feeling growing in me the whole time, something unfamiliar. I think it might be pride.)
I've got a full time job, just like real grown ups do, and I hate it, just like real grown ups do. I think that if you don't hate your job then you're either one of the minority lucky enough to be doing something they like, or you're a little bit dead inside. I feel like I am letting myself down day after day just by turning up and agreeing to submit to a thankless task which I feel no connection to whatsoever. There is something intrinsically wrong about spending more time doing one thing you hate than doing any one of the multitude of things you remotely enjoy. My life for about five months consisted of me waking up, going to work, coming home, having a meal, and going to sleep again. This was me, on a loop. The hours have reduced since, but I still hate it. Still, it comes down to the matter of money. I want to go travelling round the world to various places in the next few years, starting with Kiev in the spring, and then hopefully somewhere else in the autumn, and so on, every two seasons, somewhere new, but it's being able to afford it which is the problem. If I could quit my job tomorrow, I would, but essentially it pays the bills and rent and I need that money. I wish I didn't, and I do wish I worked practically anywhere else, but right now I feel I have to choose safety over impulsiveness, even though it goes against everything I believe in and aspire to be. Almost all my heroes and role models never gave a fuck for work, and just did what they wanted, and this is the lifestyle I aspire to lead, but I don't know, maybe they were just braver, or had more integrity than me. It's thoughts like these that I fucking hate, that's the real issue here. I am currently spending most of my time doing something which makes me feel like a fucking failure and disappointment to myself.
I am a letdown to my own potential.
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