And The World Gets Me Down.
Every Silver lining has a cloud!
This morning I feel like an old man. I seem to have gotten to that point in life where, when any illness strikes, I begin to worry it is permanent. A few weeks back I had an ear infection that caused both ears to block, and the first thought that I had was to worry about how I would live my life deaf.
I don't know if it's because it's Friday, mid month (as good as), and most of my money is already spent (as usual). Or if it's just some existential ennui, but I just feel like a stranger in my own land. Even there I still, after all these years, don't feel England is quiet where I come from. Maybe all “Forces Brats” feel the same (especially when they were born overseas)!
Listen to the radio and frequently the “Ashes” are mentioned at the moment (with the cricket being played in Wales) and I feel nothing. I endured the tennis and was not moved by the inclusion, nor beating of an Englishman in the men's finals.
Whilst walking to work this morning one of the radio's in the market stalls, setting up for the day, was blaring out the cult, and the line “and the world gets me down!”
I should be careful, my life is not a bad thing at the moment. I am paid a reasonable amount of money (don't get me wrong, I can always take more if you want to pay me it). My job is actually interesting, even if I may have a little to much to do at the moment. I have friends, a house and some sort of (minimalist) social life. Careful because I am almost wishing for some excitement to enter my life. Careful because I may get what I'm wishing for, “be careful to wish for what you need not what you want, as you may well get it!” Is an axiom I try to live by.
The almost constant barrage of everyone else’s problems , with jobs, love lives, houses, money, children, that though I don’t suffer at the moment, I have and can easily sympathise (trying not to take their troubles home with me though I do worry for them), the calm collected nature of my voice being a soporific to their troubled minds.
I am just filled with the urge to pack a couple of bags and wonder off into the sunset. Time to move, time to change time to shake it all up.
Maybe its just loneliness. Every day I travel to and from work, and I blush to think how many times I see some attractive young person (see I even sound old now), and how often I fall in love. A good friend said to me years ago as I was to travel back to England, “Simon, when you fall in love on the ferry, at least try and get their name!”
The surprise contact of an old friend brings back memories of loves lost, should have been, could have been, but never were. Not to be a “what if” sort of person, but one can’t help but wonder once in a while, as one sits alone in ones lounge talking to the empty chairs about whatever film, or TV show is on.
Maybe it's the fact that I've spent the last week in an office by myself at work. Part isolation syndrome, part guilt that I could have been doing so much more.
It's just the line from Leonard Cohen “see that line across the station, I was one of those!” I frequently see myself as the subject of that comment as I shuffle through the tube stations, or rush (relative term) to get on the evening train with the rest of my fellow commuters. The endless grind, pushing shoving, trying not to take on their stress at you not being as fast, nor as important as they, and still in their way.
It could be the fact I don't feel well. There are ten spots on my fore arm (in a tight isolated group) that don't look like the usual stress induced eczema. Maybe they're chicken pox, and I should have taken the week off myself.
Or the slightly queasy feeling I have this morning, the probable result of the chicken sandwich from the “WH Smiths”, in the station last night. Note to self must really stop buying them at the end of the day, had too many food poisoning incidents from similar.
Or maybe it's just this pain in my ankle. I have been limping for quiet some time now. There is a swelling (careful nursie) at the ankle as though I have sprained a ligament and it just doesn't seem to want to get better. I was blaming it on sleeping in odd positions on the train.
I just find I am doing and saying things that are making me feel more and more bizarre, and as a result more isolated. In the morning I have breakfast before I put my shirt on, so as not to go to work wearing both (the breakfast and the shirt). The other morning I only noticed I split breakfast down my shirt when I was trying to clean up the fruit juice I'd also spilt. Massive juice bottle opening failure led to dribbling.
Maybe that's it. I should just relax into the Zen of the whole thing. Stop worrying and become that strange smelling weird old man that is lusting after girls a quarter of his age. Yes I can hear you “What do you mean become?” I feel I'm already there.
Fade to grey!
This morning I feel like an old man. I seem to have gotten to that point in life where, when any illness strikes, I begin to worry it is permanent. A few weeks back I had an ear infection that caused both ears to block, and the first thought that I had was to worry about how I would live my life deaf.
I don't know if it's because it's Friday, mid month (as good as), and most of my money is already spent (as usual). Or if it's just some existential ennui, but I just feel like a stranger in my own land. Even there I still, after all these years, don't feel England is quiet where I come from. Maybe all “Forces Brats” feel the same (especially when they were born overseas)!
Listen to the radio and frequently the “Ashes” are mentioned at the moment (with the cricket being played in Wales) and I feel nothing. I endured the tennis and was not moved by the inclusion, nor beating of an Englishman in the men's finals.
Whilst walking to work this morning one of the radio's in the market stalls, setting up for the day, was blaring out the cult, and the line “and the world gets me down!”
I should be careful, my life is not a bad thing at the moment. I am paid a reasonable amount of money (don't get me wrong, I can always take more if you want to pay me it). My job is actually interesting, even if I may have a little to much to do at the moment. I have friends, a house and some sort of (minimalist) social life. Careful because I am almost wishing for some excitement to enter my life. Careful because I may get what I'm wishing for, “be careful to wish for what you need not what you want, as you may well get it!” Is an axiom I try to live by.
The almost constant barrage of everyone else’s problems , with jobs, love lives, houses, money, children, that though I don’t suffer at the moment, I have and can easily sympathise (trying not to take their troubles home with me though I do worry for them), the calm collected nature of my voice being a soporific to their troubled minds.
I am just filled with the urge to pack a couple of bags and wonder off into the sunset. Time to move, time to change time to shake it all up.
Maybe its just loneliness. Every day I travel to and from work, and I blush to think how many times I see some attractive young person (see I even sound old now), and how often I fall in love. A good friend said to me years ago as I was to travel back to England, “Simon, when you fall in love on the ferry, at least try and get their name!”
The surprise contact of an old friend brings back memories of loves lost, should have been, could have been, but never were. Not to be a “what if” sort of person, but one can’t help but wonder once in a while, as one sits alone in ones lounge talking to the empty chairs about whatever film, or TV show is on.
Maybe it's the fact that I've spent the last week in an office by myself at work. Part isolation syndrome, part guilt that I could have been doing so much more.
It's just the line from Leonard Cohen “see that line across the station, I was one of those!” I frequently see myself as the subject of that comment as I shuffle through the tube stations, or rush (relative term) to get on the evening train with the rest of my fellow commuters. The endless grind, pushing shoving, trying not to take on their stress at you not being as fast, nor as important as they, and still in their way.
It could be the fact I don't feel well. There are ten spots on my fore arm (in a tight isolated group) that don't look like the usual stress induced eczema. Maybe they're chicken pox, and I should have taken the week off myself.
Or the slightly queasy feeling I have this morning, the probable result of the chicken sandwich from the “WH Smiths”, in the station last night. Note to self must really stop buying them at the end of the day, had too many food poisoning incidents from similar.
Or maybe it's just this pain in my ankle. I have been limping for quiet some time now. There is a swelling (careful nursie) at the ankle as though I have sprained a ligament and it just doesn't seem to want to get better. I was blaming it on sleeping in odd positions on the train.
I just find I am doing and saying things that are making me feel more and more bizarre, and as a result more isolated. In the morning I have breakfast before I put my shirt on, so as not to go to work wearing both (the breakfast and the shirt). The other morning I only noticed I split breakfast down my shirt when I was trying to clean up the fruit juice I'd also spilt. Massive juice bottle opening failure led to dribbling.
Maybe that's it. I should just relax into the Zen of the whole thing. Stop worrying and become that strange smelling weird old man that is lusting after girls a quarter of his age. Yes I can hear you “What do you mean become?” I feel I'm already there.
Fade to grey!
Technorati Tag: love, loss, cricket, ashes, solitude, no regret, commuting, work, relationships, meekon5.
Labels: ashes, Commuting, cricket, loss, love, meekon5, no regret, relationships, solitude, work
posted by meekon5 at 09:03
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