I write this post from my Northern home, the only place in the country I will ever consider to be my real home. I hadn’t been home for about six weeks, so I had definitely been looking forward to this, but – of course – it all rushes by so quickly. Three days gone in the blink of an eye.
I travelled up early on Saturday morning and have spent the past few days in a combination of working and relaxing. I definitely feel happier here, but it is always filled with the melancholy inevitability that it just won’t last. And it won’t. I cannot live here, as there is no work for me. I tried, it was a disaster. And, to be honest, my family were no real help. In fact, they, especially my mum, didn’t believe in me and thought it wasn’t possible.
I have proved that it is possible, but the question I have to answer is whether it is all worth it. Yes, I have made some money, but here I am in my 27th year, still with no possibility of ever affording my own house, no proper friends any more, no girlfriend, in a rather peculiar household arrangement that I despise.
It may seem stupid to say it, as I am still young really, but time is most definitely running out. To afford a house any time soon, I need to be earning double what I currently do, and my income needs to be rising higher and higher each year, if I really am to think I am a real success in life. Anyone can run a two-bit business and make small pocket change out of it.
But that’s when I start despairing, and write posts like my last one. Just what is it all about? What is the actual point? We exist purely because we must, and ending it all is not an option, really. We exist because if we decided to stop our existence, we would cause immense grief to the people who know we are alive.
It’s all just so stupid. But what option do we have?
We exist because we must.
Fortunately, while I am at home, such morbid thoughts are abated for a while. I can occupy myself with busyness and entertaining my family members and doing “useful” (relatively speaking, since not doing them would not make the universe stop existing) things that make me feel good. As well as playing the piano, which I absolutely love.
So it is always better at home. But like all good things, they must end. Apparently, we are told we must only enjoy good things in small doses, and suffer the rest of the time, so we learn to appreciate the good stuff more.
That is what we told by those above us – who, by the way, generally enjoy a good life 90% of the time – to keep us in our place. Because only a small portion of people can be happy all the time. Us suffering the drudgery and dullness of life is is a necessary condition of them being happy. Capitalism is a zero sum game.
It’s better at home by distraction. Distraction from mundanity.
But mundanity, as it always must, shall soon resume.