Where your eyes don’t go

Do you ever wonder about other peoples’ lives? Other peoples’ jobs? How they get to have the big house, the fast car, the expansive wage, the interesting project? I mean, beyond the normal run-of-the-mill paranoiac status anxiety. At what point do you decide, well, this is it, it really only is downhill from here? At what point do you seriously rue the wrong turns, the bad choices, the inherent kicks-in-the-teeth that fate deals to everyone but you have the bad grace to ruminate on? At what point do you get contented?

I thought I was content. In fact, for a while I probably was. So what changes? Society has certainly changed around me, and change bad, as they say. (They jokingly laugh when I take the same position in my Tae Kwon Do class every week. They nervously laugh about someone going postal in the office. I don’t mind playing to stereotypes, they are there for a reason. But I tire.) People seem to have gotten it wrong in some fundamental way. I know there are a select few of us who can see around the edges, but with no counter-attack, it is all useless. I listen to the news, read the wires, and it all is just wrong. There is no other term for it. Western society made some sort of choice, or pact, and it was the wrong one. And no, I amn’t advocating some Leftist hippy utpoia, this isn’t a political change of heart, God forbid. And the more I read the more I realise the harm Leftist policies are doing to the world. But this isn’t another political rant, this is a demon exorcising.

Everyone knows more, does more, feels more than me. I constantly feel frazzled, on the edge on something. No, this isn’t a cry for help, there is no breakdown imminent. I am working it through. By saying, maybe an insight will appear. The thought of having another working lifetime ahead of me, always struggling to keep things afloat. And it only takes a few knocks and you are under again. The curse of the middleclasses, eh? No social housing for us, paid for by The State (read: those middleclasses again). No trust funds to fall back on, no hedge fund to pay out. Strive, skimp and struggle.

Then it struck me, what was actually wrong. Faith. A lack of, or even loss, of faith. I have lost faith in The System, I have lost faith in The State, I have lost faith in Power, but most of all I seem to have lost faith in myself. I still believe I could do whatever I put my mind to, given the chance. But I amn’t going to get that chance now. Or the chances are reduced. Sure, I am reasonable at what I do, but I am no high-flyer. Then we have the financial shackles. I need to maintain a level of income to be where I am. (So why be where you are then, eh?) And to jump sideways and get the same wage would be tough. Am I looking sideways? No, I am not, but that doesn’t mean my eyes and ears are closed. Would it be different elsewhere? Likely not. I mean, it isn’t as if I have only ever had one job in one sector, is it? I have done a multitude of professions. But every one there are the traps waiting to be sprung. You can only manage to avoid them for so long. You can’t fight City Hall.

Ungrateful? Probably. Spiteful? Likely. Self-piteous? Oh yes. Open to change? Indeed. Accepting offers? Perhaps.

It isn’t all self-indulgent whinging, mind. Spring is almost on us, the mornings and evenings are getting lighter, bidding Caitlin to remove her top, I have a head-showering trip to Munich planned, and there are the smiles of those I love. I will more than likely be on the allotment for a good proportion of Satdeh, preparing for this growing season. I want to sort out some fishing, too. See, it isn’t as if I should complain, is it? There are worse off than me. Not that that should be any comfort to anyone.

Thirty Strokes is fun, and there are way more listens on there than I thought there would be. I really should tidy those two tracks up, as the flaws are really obvious. I have binned an awful lot, but I think I have gotten over my shyness. Publish and be ever damned. But at least it should show progression. And all the comments have been positive. Flattery. Works every time.

The rain auditions at my window