For nigh on two years now, the author has been unemployed (although I've only been a government statistic for a month or two, signing on for jobseeker's allowance in March of this year) and that has somewhat lessened the motivation to blog. Largely because, for all my daydreaming of writing an informed article on anything, I know the truth of the matter is that I talk about me in this space. Which is fine, sort of. When I was at university it seemed to work well, on my annual trawl back through my facebook timeline, I do read a fair few messages of support from friends who were readers. The assumption is, of course, that they were being kind but nonetheless, I feel like I was at least trying to say something back in the day, even if it was filtered through a quite ego-centric medium.
The problem here is obvious, really. A supportive reader base existed at university because while I was writing primarily about me, I at least had a subject who was relatable to the audience. My subject - me - was a university student, writing for other university students who had similar thoughts. Now what is my subject? Unemployed, with little prospect of finding a job that in any way feels better than unemployment, with no real skills and holding qualifications that he possibly doesn't deserve which in any case, employers don't care for. The readers are a) enjoying some measure of success, b) auto-scanning computer software designed to make advertising easier or c) non-English speakers looking to learn a little of the lingo. Whilst the first are largely friends and hopefully could forgive me lack of anything interesting to say, the second do not judge and the third probably don't care what's going on here (though they should: if they learn it from me, their English will sway wildly between slang from four or five different areas of the English-speaking world, polysyllabic nonsense and unnecessarily verbose parenthetic passages), still I've felt for a long time like the blogosphere is not the place for me anymore.
Tuesday night, however, I found myself composing a blog entry in my head on my walk back from my 5-a-side football session. I can't remember now what I was going to say but something, along with reading a couple of other blogs since then, seems to have got me back in the mood. How long this mood will last, that's another matter. Personally, I think I'll have done well if I get as far as publishing this piece.
Nevertheless, I'm here now and believe it or not, that was just the introduction to this piece (don't worry, the middle will be shorter and the conclusion non-existent).
So, what do I want to say? Do I want to talk about how someone who honestly does want to find work can feel persecuted by the system that's supposed to help while in every town around the country the crowd of unemployed who intend to stay that way are legion and seem not to have been impeded in this goal by the same system? No, if I think about that long enough to write about it I'm at risk of psychotic rage or inescapable depression. So how about a recap of the themes from the university era of this blog? Well, the plural there is extremely generous and there's not a lot to say. Largely just that the thing that made me want to write this blog in the first place is locked inside a little room in my mind and doesn't want to come out. It's comfortable in there, assimilated with similar though less intense experiences, just another part of the psyche of an individual who has reaped nothing but pain from that area of life. Gone? No. Forgotten? Never. Simply in a place where it can't hurt me any more and has no more bearing on life than does the rain on Jupiter.
Nope, I think I'll just end on the good news stories, there aren't many but they bring a little sunlight to my mental horizon so I'll write them down, see them physically and be glad that they are there.
First then, next week begins an (up to) eight-week stint of work experience which, while it might not lead directly to a job, at least gets me closer than I've been in a while.
Second, I continue to help run my local Church's youth football sessions. We've grown to a place I hoped we'd be and we show no signs of stopping, such that we now use our love of football to raise money for charity.
Third, it may be a good few years later than I dreamed of (and my God, did I dream) and I may be paying for it rather than getting paid for it but finally I get to do that thing that many like me dream of. Nine days from now I will step out to play my first game of football at a professional football team's stadium. Not for a pro team of course and as I mentioned, not on the extremely generous wages of the professional athlete but nonetheless, a dream will have come true. In a diffuse and unanticipated manner, but come true nonetheless. And then, a week later, I'll do the same thing again.
Fourth - and last - with the above three points and all my other regular football activities (which ramp up to nearly unprecedented levels this month) I'm going to spend a lot of May in an exhausted state, but a happy one. For the first time in God knows how long I can look at a calendar and think what an excellent time this is in my life.
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