The trick is to remind myself that I am
telling myself I am miserable and I need to stop telling myself that I
am. It’s getting in the way of my plans for world domination. That and
the harsh reality of the situation. That thousands of swipes right on
Badoo and Tinder later nobody is interested. It’s actually odd that
NOBODY is interested. Ok, yes, somebody 5555 miles away on Tinder swiped
right but a swipe is what? You need a lot- typically speaking- to
convert one of them into a date. Essentially I am unwanted goods, a
member of the underclass. I think my mother has hit on this slightly
more poetically but no less truthfully by describing me as a
caterpillar. A 39 year old caterpillar, that has not yet morphed into a
butterfly. And perhaps I am. When the chemical balance is right in my
head it all seems like everything is going to plan, when I’m feeling
down it seems all too obvious that the situation is stark and getting
more so by the day.
Being unemployed with little contact with the outside world is a blessing and a curse for the writer. I have time to write but time I should be spending writing is haunted by loneliness, a lack of self esteem and worries about the future. Also far too much time reading crap on the internet and checking my phone for social media updates. And I worry too about my ability as a writer. Ok, so I can write but can I actually write stuff that anybody wants to pay to read? The answer, at present, has to be no as this blog costs nothing to read and nobody is reading it anyway. But it might be yes if I improve as a writer, or write more or get the necessary breaks. I don’t know, because the future is a genuine unknown.
It’s a darn shame I wasn’t wearing my writer’s hat enough when I was in China. I should have been taking copious notes. I would occasionally scrawl rants and fantasies in notebooks and that is all I have alongside the memories, which are far from perfect. I’m hoping that as I start to write I’ll remember more things. Ok but enough of that and the frustration of being single and what-have-you. I’m going to pull myself together and go down to Morrisons.
Being unemployed with little contact with the outside world is a blessing and a curse for the writer. I have time to write but time I should be spending writing is haunted by loneliness, a lack of self esteem and worries about the future. Also far too much time reading crap on the internet and checking my phone for social media updates. And I worry too about my ability as a writer. Ok, so I can write but can I actually write stuff that anybody wants to pay to read? The answer, at present, has to be no as this blog costs nothing to read and nobody is reading it anyway. But it might be yes if I improve as a writer, or write more or get the necessary breaks. I don’t know, because the future is a genuine unknown.
It’s a darn shame I wasn’t wearing my writer’s hat enough when I was in China. I should have been taking copious notes. I would occasionally scrawl rants and fantasies in notebooks and that is all I have alongside the memories, which are far from perfect. I’m hoping that as I start to write I’ll remember more things. Ok but enough of that and the frustration of being single and what-have-you. I’m going to pull myself together and go down to Morrisons.
