Attempted Getaway

In the past few days my mind began to wander. It drifted to the other side of the Atlantic, thinking about the time I spent in the USA working for a summer camp. My mind tends to do this when I want to escape from my current conditions, and that thought comes around regularly at the moment.

It was at that point that I realised that maybe it isn’t too late to do the whole thing again this summer. Oh, how I wished I’d had this thought a couple of months ago. I went around, frantically e-mailing the few contacts I could get hold of over there, eventually getting the details of the one I wanted.

Then, the bad but totally expected news. No positions available. I’ve been desperately wanting to do the summer camp thing again, just one more time before the door shuts forever on it. But each year I’ve managed to contrive an excuse for not doing it. I should have done it last summer, but I thought I’d be too busy. I should have done it this summer, but I thought I’d have a job. You know, one of those things where you do work in exchange for money.

In my desperation I thought that maybe they’d still have one or two openings in there somewhere. But, as we all know, the recession is biting, especially in the USA, so I’ll bet they were inundated with applications this year. I know they would have had me back, but there’s nothing they can do about it if I leave it too late.

Briefly my mind had already drifted to what I’d need to do in the event I got the go ahead. I was thinking about the clothes I’d need, some new shoes, etc. You know me, always wanting to be prepared for any eventuality. I don’t know why as I knew there was no hope. But it was an entertaining diversion nevertheless. Lord knows I don’t get many of them these days.

Next summer, maybe? I’d be nearly 25 then. While there’s no real limit on ages in the camp I would go to, there’s a certain feeling in my head that if I haven’t got a full time job sorted out by then that there’s something drastically wrong with me. But then again, the months seem to go round so quickly at the moment. Day after day, ticking by with no hope, no prospects. I’m still desperately waiting for someone or something to give me a break, but once again, my latest attempt to fashion one out has failed miserably.

There will be no getaways this year. I suppose my life is one continuous holiday at the moment, so what could I possibly want to get away from? Such is the mysterious nature of the human existence. Boredom is a very powerful emotion, but I sure as hell have had enough of it now.

Crying

In recent days my mood has been along those lines due to the incredible disaster that is my life right now, but it’s a pure co-incidence that yesterday I found a song of the same name by Roy Orbison which has moved me to make this post…

I have always liked the well known Roy Orbison songs. I’m also aware of his tragic life, and how it’s such a shame that a talented bloke like him would suffer in that way. So yesterday I borrowed a DVD from my gran’s house about the Big O himself, a biography filled with his music.

On there I came across the song that is the name of this post. I heard a live performance of it, just Roy on his own, and thought it was something very special indeed. His ghostly, operatic voice, soaring with falsetto, building up to the crescendo at the end… just truly magical. The theme of the song is as you’d expect from a song that has such a name, but somehow it doesn’t feel cliched or contrived, like most songs about love and loss do these days.

Once more I am left in awe about the power of music. The rest of the DVD also contained songs which I will have to investigate. Perhaps even ask for a Roy Orbison CD for Christmas. I think of myself as being very lucky to be able to like music of all types from all eras. It means I can absorb such a vast range of moods, lyrics, great riffs and melodies from a massive array of talent, and all without feeling the snobbisheness and aloofness that people who like “real music” often burden themselves with. My motto is: if it’s good music, it’s good music. 

(And, incidentally, that is also how I justify to myself watching X Factor, which always brings me a moment of embarrassment… my excuse being that a good singer is a good singer and always worth listening to! Methinks I do protest too much)

I’ve been spending more time lately playing my guitar after a fairly lengthy absence from it. The guitar has frustrated me now for seven years, simply because I have never passed an intermediate level of skill on it. But I know why, because I don’t have the discipline. I know full well that if I played it for an hour each day and tried to learn a new song or new riff at least once I week I would make definite progress. But I don’t. I’m lucky if I play it once a week, and haven’t learned a new song in months.

So I think I should put this right. And if I did get good, maybe I could find a friend and go out busking. I would love that, seriously. Whether I’d have the bottle to do it is another matter. I am often full of good intentions which are never fulfilled. This, to me, sounds like I’m building up another hostage to fortune…

But in any case, it is providing me with a useful distraction right now. That can only be a good thing, because I really could do without sliding into a depression the likes of which I’ve not been in for several years. I just need a break, a lucky one.

Perhaps I should view the returning of my Icesave money, which should be complete by next week, as a good sign…

Nothing Ever Happens

… sang Del Amitri many years ago. It is a wonderful song, one of my favourites, but it also is very apt right now, since nothing really is happening at all. The US election is over, and while I am still following events there very closely, it seems anything remotely interesting in my life right now has been drained away.

The only event of note recently was on Sunday when my football team, the one my brother plays for, ground out a very dodgy draw. It was probably one of the most tense and nerve-wracking games of football I’ve ever been to watch, as we took a one goal lead at half-time and managed to weather a huge storm in the second half – both metaphorically and literally as the heavens opened and gale force winds blew against us – to only concede once after the opposition had a huge array of opportunities to win and win handsomely.

Literally, that has been the only thing lately worth writing about. I spend most of my time mulling around here, looking at job sections, occasionally applying but knowing there’s really no point right now. I’m waiting for a Eureka moment, one in which I will finally decide what to do with my useless existence.

It’s not like I’m not trying to think up a way out of this hole. I have called in as many friends as I can, but I’m beginning to discover who my real friends are in this situation. It’s amazing how I can live with or know people for so long and think they’re a good friend, but when times get hard it can be incredibly difficult even to get a reply out of people.

And in other circumstances, the opportunity for action has passed. I thought I might genuinely have a chance to get a business started up with a friend… so I e-mailed him to see if he would be interested. He said yes, but he had to delay the decision until he had pending job interview. The interview arrives, he e-mails me and tells me it was a disaster. So we start to plan.

Next day, he’s got the job, and all bets are off. Talk about bad timing. If only I’d considered this a few weeks earlier he might not have applied, and things could be very different.

The daft thing is that right now, with my terrible job prospects, I am seriously considering if I could go to the USA next year and do the camp counselling thing again. But that really would be a desperate situation, because it would pretty much mean that I could start a full time job in the meantime, because I would have to quit come next summer.

So I’m delaying that one for a little while, though the window of opportunity is only open until mid-December. That’s not good, not with the way the days seem to just fly by and I take so long to make up my mind anyway.

My head is wracked with worry right now. I just haven’t got a clue what to do. There are lots of options, but each one I take probably closes almost all the other doors. For instance, if I went to the USA, it effectively means that I won’t have a proper job until next September. That’s too long.

And it’s getting so bad that the first seeds of doubt about dropping out of teacher training are starting to appear. That’s not good at all.

Hmm. Considering nothing has happened, I still managed to write an awful lot about it…