What do you write about when nothing really happens to you? Like many I lead a happy, but politically uneventful life, when will I be called a precocious snot or similar by a public figure? When will I get a chance to thump Nick Griffin? When you are a lossoming, inexperienced youth you are reliably informed that the world is your oyster, but middle class complacency and aspirational apathy condemn many to the mundane temp cycle and ‘living for the weekend’. So when you work for a medium sized Insurance company, and bitterly await a new education beginning in september, what inspiration is there to blog about? I’m not Holden Caulfield; I’ve come to accept that now. In the week I await the 23 bus to and from work and on the weekend I obsess over the money i've been paid and spend it witihn days. Politics at least is providing some relief from apathy on the whole.
However, i am not here to write about the 'smoked-filled-room' asif to say, instead I am here to sum up my increasingly boring lifestyle, conjured up with the most sophisticated and whitty words I obtain with a bad head.
Music: I like music as much as the next man, but nobody is more admiring than the next efficionado. The classical music on my ipod is listed under one artist ‘Classical’, a sorting which I’m sure would disgust any Classical music fan. To my ignorant ears it’s all pretty similar, and I can’t be bothered to sift through the numerous composers because I don’t know my arse from my elbow with regards who composed what. As regards to contemporary music I have disappointed myself, trawling through lastfm and so forth to unearth exciting new bands with exciting haircuts. The phrase ‘you won’t heard of them’ shall not phase me! Such is my indifference to bands who come and go depending on the mood and vogue of the young (meaning 16-19 year olds). Give me Bruce Springsteen any day, call me a Dad, see if I care.
Smoking: I'm so caught up in the introspection and a longing to belong to a parision culture that I smoke despite the health risks, it adds to my college drop-out demeanour.
Drinking: Binge drinking red wine. Like I myself is a middle-finger to the grip over wine that used to belong to the aristocracy. I binge drink but I'm cultured. I'm middle class but I'm grimey also. The empty bottles will look as vintage as me in my dimly lit or sepia photos, uploaded to my various internet profiles.
Folk music dress code: The tweedier the better. Bar looking like a female version of Worzel Gummidge, the earthier my dress tones are the less i am a consumer culture whore. The more brown I wear, the freer I am from brands, franchised coffee shops and popluar culture.
Work and Education: I enjoy work, but it is one of our nations most moaned about pastimes. Long hours, bad managers and office politics, the list is endless. If someone said to me two years ago that I would one day, each month, recieve £600 in my bank account, then I would conjure up all different shopping lists, as for now, £0.79 remains in my bank account after the first week, what do i usually have to show for it, £20 dress perhaps? For the following three weeks, smoking rollies and chugging White Lightning is all my money stretches to. Now for the long left thought, Education and Career. As I bitterly await september to start, once more, my A-levels I yet again have no idea what to do as a career. I am reluctant to discuss this further. Welcome to my generation, can we get an encore?
The solution and distraction? Just concede these frustrating dispostions and write a self-indulgent blog post about not having much to write about.
