My business, and therefore my life (because my life feels like nothing other than my business), is taking some rather disappointing turns lately. Work, measured by quantity, is down. And no obvious reason for it; suddenly, the phone has stopped ringing with genuine callers. There remain enquries of sorts, but many of them are increasingly deciding not to bother with repairs.

Then there is the lack of any progress, any developments at all, on the “big news” front. Before Christmas I had thought that by now I would be striding forward by now, as we had expected a deal to be ready to sign with a big new client. Unfortunately, they are dragging their heels, and I’m starting to think they are about to go elsewhere. Ever the pessimist. I have spent bags of time last week putting together a proposal for another business, and that one has promise, but – again – it could be ages.

Then there has been a sudden spate of things going wrong. Yesterday I had to resolve three issues that were already fixed, but because of bad luck, and maybe a little carelessness on my part, they all came back. I sorted them for good this time, but there’s nothing worse than a retread.

Frankly, I need to move on. Yesterday my patience snapped. I’ve been doing this business now for three years, and though it is in a very good position really, I kinda get the feeling that I’m running out of time. I’ve had this horrible sinking feeling for a few months now, that I am not really going anywhere, and my life is not living up to what I had hoped it would be. Maybe it’s the early mid-life crisis. After all, something must have made me buy a bucket of Lego recently…

I think the other abiding problem I’ve got is where I am. My housemate returned from holiday yesterday, and it has been bliss without him being here. I’m fed up – completely, utterly, totally – living with him. I think it really is time I had my own place. But I can’t do that – financially – until one of these big projects comes in. Housing is not cheap.

Then there is the relative disappointment. On Sunday, I was lucky enough that a friend of mine came to visit. This was a bloody miracle, since a) I have so few friends; and b) the ones I do are all so far away they don’t bother. But for a change, someone did. He has just finished a PhD and is about to emigrate to Switzerland for a few years. He also has a girlfriend, and is seemingly quite pleased with the direction of life. I can say the same, too, for the rest of my tiny friendship circle.

I keep telling myself I shouldn’t compare my life with my peers, but I can’t help it.

The Five Year Itch

Five years ago today, and almost to the hour, I began my blogging journey.

Five years of misery. Five years of false dawns. Five years of some success, much to my surprise.

I say this every year, often many times, but the reason why I blog is because it is such an awesome record of my life. It isn’t complete, far from it, but it gets across most of the important events.

In the last year, I feel it’s become a non-stop bitch-a-thon though. I guess it’s the nature of sitting around waiting for something to happen. But that’s no good.

I feel like I used to write about different subjects, because all manner of different things were going on in my life. But that may just be a shade of rose-tint on the old spectacles, which one day I’ll need due to continuing failing eyesight.

Because I’m pretty sure I’ve always been very passive about my life. I sit back and wait for things to happen, and let everything wash over me. I never usually have more than a handful of things on the go at any one time, and don’t do anything to upset that balance. That’s me all over.

And that is how my life is slipping away.

I genuinely cannot believe that it was five years ago I was sitting no more than two metres from my current spot, in an equally depressed state, thinking about what had gone and what was to come. Watching my own transition to an adult life, not knowing where the hell it was going. Back then it was disturbing; now my listlessness is almost par for the course.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Five years of whinging. Of waiting. Of hoping some break will occur for me, and never getting it.

They always say that it’s no surprise that the “luckiest” people in life are invariably the ones who take the most risks.

That is probably why it’s been almost five years of ceaseless boredom. I don’t take risks. Well, I do take the odd one. Moving away this year was a serious one.

Except it hasn’t paid off. I’m almost resigned to that now, and beginning to think of what the exit strategy is.

Fortunately, there are some things I life I still enjoy. One of these is happening right now, as I’m trying to type while holding one of my usual nonsense conversations with my younger sister.

The subject, what else, is doom and gloom. The end of the earth, which is due in 2012 according to her supervolcano theory, influenced by a current film. It’s providing plenty of banter. All good stuff.

At least there are people worth living for, even if life itself is a load of rubbish.

But anyway, as Shakin’ Stevens sang: Merry Christmas, Everyone!