I was born in an explosion of colour and light. So were you. We all emerged from darkness and then entered a world full of so much beauty and wonder that we cried. We cried because we couldn’t understand what was going on. We cried because we felt alone but then we were swaddled and put into the arms of the people whose responsibility it was to guide us through the new world we had emerged into. Some parents were superb, some didn’t even bother. Mine helped me have a secure future and so I now work a 9-5.
I should be thankful because I work in an excellent business with a lot of support and job security. I even have a pension. I manage to save money every month and one day I may even own my own house. Society would describe me as fortunate but writing this paragraph was as painful as applying a cheese grater laced with vinegar to my testicles.
I don’t hate my job, it’s just that it is painfully obvious that I should be doing something different with my life. I’ve already realised that I need another outlet to my angst, or more importantly find a job that makes me a happy person. Writing this blog is one of those key outlets, and my wife, friends and hobbies all help the river of shit flow down their respective tributaries. But no matter how many outlets I have there is still a flow of crap pouring directly into my soul. My creative heart is dominated by the 9-5 and it shapes my entire life. In an ideal world I would love for someone to give me about 20k a year to sit around and write, because in all honesty I think that for the 37.5 hours I spend at work each week I am not left with nearly enough time to do something I truly enjoy. That’s not too much to ask is it? Just fire one less hell-fire missile at a wedding every couple of years and we’ll be quids in.
This blog is a graveyard for some of the ideas that I have had in order to escape the 9-5. I volunteered for the police, worked as a journalist and tried writing a novel. Currently the blogging seems like the best way to fit my naturally creative side around the ball and chain that is ‘work’. This isn’t really an ideal situation though. If I imagine at life as a toddler clumsily playing with their toys then I am a square peg being smashed round the head repeatedly in order to fit into a round hole. It might just fit but it isn’t the right place for me.
What amazes me is that there are people that are fully capable of just simply switching off and enjoying their work. I have good days and bad days but there are people who seem utterly content with their life in which they go to work, look forward to the weekend and then go for the yearly holiday. To me that is a tragic waste of the potential of a human life but apparently a simple routine is more than enough for some people.
Ultimately I suppose it comes down to which camp you fit in to. If it makes you happy then go with it. But if you are like the depressed looking man that just walked in to deliver the post then maybe it’s time to find another outlet or, better yet, try and pursue a new dream. So screw you Dolly Parton, there’s no point waiting for the tide to turn when you could just stop going with the flow and actually make your own path.