It’s strange to read ones own words again. Though I have not posted on the blog since last June, it’s not that I’m not writing, it’s just I spend so much time at work I don’t seem to have the inclination to write for the blog that much. A shame. Perhaps it’s also the fact I am going through a period of what I can only describe as defeat. I am almost crushed in any ambition to do or say anything creative. Not intentionally, but just by the continued flux of chaos that is the company I now work for.
Part is the lack of ready money with which to pop down the pub and make little asinine comments, sometimes actually writing them down to come back to later. Part it is the almost mind numbing turnover of staff, leaving me with an almost distasteful recognition that I have been left here, behind.
Also I don’t travel to work on public transport any more, so don’t have the luxury, or time, to sit and observe. The only time I have is to work and then get home and collapse in exhaustion, suffering from a mild form of post traumatic stress disorder.
I don’t get as depressed as I used to, or perhaps don’t have the time to notice that I may be as bad but can’t afford to take the time and step back to analyse the fact that I’m feeling depressed any more (time off sick = no pay). Actually maybe in places I am more depressed because I am less able to get out of this hole I find myself in (spiritually, physically, and mentally).
If anyone wants a Forty two year old Ex SQL, Ex DBA, Ex Accountant, Ex Buddhist, Poet Artist Philosopher Anarchist Neo-Pagan who seems to have lost his way, (please drop a note here and I will get back to you eventually)?
Perhaps it’s the fact that I am now working with a workforce, the majority of which are, on average, half my age or less. I know I was an obnoxious twat when I was in my early twenties. I know I can be so now. The majority of the people I work with are fine. It’s the cumulative effect now and again, everyone thinks they know best (and I of course know better than any of them). I finish the day feeling I have been tumble dried in a vast washing machine of everyone else’s opinion.
I spend all day under the glare of vacuous day time TV from one of the major players that we all work for here. Much like Nineteen Eighty Four, the TV is on all the time in the background, grinding out drivel twenty-four-seven, interwoven with the latest must have, TV, DVD, high def, internet enabled, hair product, big Mac burger. At times I not sure the thing isn’t actually watching me back.
Perhaps it’s just the prospect of having to get my thoughts together tomorrow for a Personal development assessment.
Where do I want to go? I don’t really know. What do I want to be? By the gods they have been asking me that one since I can remember. Gone are the certainties of childhood where I was going to be a astronaut, or a mad scientist. Well one out of three isn’t bad.
There does come a time when you do eventually realise that the mothership is not actually going to come back for you. It’s then that the loneliness actually hits. Perhaps that’s the easiest way to describe properly how I feel most of the time. Like the one left behind after the rest have fled. Still recording data in the vain hope that one day they will come flying back to lift me away from the trudgingly, begrudgingly, mundane, salary man life. Until that moment I must attempt to fit in the best I can with the indigenous primitive life forms that surround me.
Gone are the nights in dingy clubs sipping on champagne at some one else’s expense. Gone are the days where I’ve smoked so much I can’t even be bothered to leave the flat (the kitchen, the chair even), just let the world flow past and around me just sitting observing. Gone are the nights where I would drink and laugh with friends until the sun comes up. Gone are the nights out with someone else’s sister.
That is defeat.