A terrible month for blogging

I never did write that story.

I returned this morning from a brief trip to Swindon, to see a good friend of mine who I studied English with last year. The trip itself was lovely. Swindon seems very quaint, from what I saw of it. It was lovely and wintery, as is the general case with things around this time of year. We passed the time mostly by drinking coffee, talking, watching magic DVDs and brainstorming business ideas, and magical concepts. We also made the most amazing vegan sushi. My friend doesn’t have a TV, or the internet, which was refreshing in a lovely way. I love my internet breaks, and being disconnected from everything, every once in a while. Indeed, we talked and bonded much more than we would have done if he did have either of those aforementioned bits. My friend himself has moved on, and grown up in a big way. He’s now living in his own flat, and working towards a PGCE in secondary teaching. I’m proud of him. He’s contributing back to the society that helped him become the person he is today. I don’t deny that I’m envious.

While I was there, I couldn’t help but ask about his job every couple of minutes. What was it like? Were the children nice? Did he think he would teach for the rest of his life? I suppose this curiosity was borne from the fact that I’m very unsure of where I’m going with my life at the moment. A few months ago, if you asked me where I was going, I could tell you exactly what I wanted to do with my life, and where I want to go. However, the closer I got to this goal (not really that much closer at all), I realised very quickly that I didn’t have a clue about what I was getting myself into. It’s funny, almost. A year ago, people commended me for having such a sense of direction. These people are now much further along the line than I am. For the first time in a long time, I am not happy with my life, and this is no one’s fault but my own. I am in a very fragile mental state.

I’ve gotten where I am today mostly through a series of hurried decisions, which I haven’t really pondered on. Perhaps I’m paying the price for it, now. I don’t know. I don’t really know anything at the moment. I think this is illustrated by the fact that my blogs have become horribly self-indulgent as of late. Maybe that’s why I haven’t been updating as much. Whatever the case, I apologise.

I’d like to end this with a positive spin, because I’m that kind of a person. I think. So, what can we learn from this? Swindon is good, and Swindon with good friends is excellent. I think this has already been established. What moral can we derive from this, however? I think it’s important to recognise the importance of work, no matter how rudimentary. I feel like a Chekhov character. It’s great to have some kind of purpose, and to know where you’re going with things, and to actually be contributing to something, whether a child’s education, or something different entirely. I think that while employment is important, it’s also important to remember how we, as friends, can affect one another. It’s very hard to lose track of things when you feel alone, which is something I believe I’m guilty of. Perhaps it’s that we all have a purpose, bestowed upon us all by those we love, and those we care for. A reciprocal purpose of dependence. Yes, I think that’s it, and I say that with a smile.


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