The time has come

Though I know I publish into a vacuum, enough time has passed for me to justify to myself why I maintain this blog. It’s not like I visit it that frequently – who would? It’s never updated.

The last entry was October 2009. That’s half a year ago, and time has moved on, things have changed an’ all that. But it is decision making, and the reality of a daily existance, that have mattered most. Decision I have made by myself, and decisions I have made with others.

A child on the way is nothing unusual in the context of humankind and Darwin and the need for man to express himself. It is, after all, the ultimate expression of death – I pass my own life onto another – and the seeming essential aim of our collective will. And yet, at the individual level (me, her, the life to come) it is in no way obvious or inevitable or anything like self destruction.

Right now, it is far off in contemplation, but is really close enough to know that further decisions must be made, and necessary responsibility taken. Indeed, it there is a real responsibility in this whole process, and one I hope I have the capacity to meet.

Of course, that in mind, it might seem a little risky to open out and take further decsions. Decisions, while less fundamental to the wider growth of a population, are more immediate and have a daily impact: work, and where to go next. A wise person once wrote that those in the wokplace who define success tend to be workaholics. But that does not capture all of their impact; they are often paranoid and fearful of failure. While never a workaholic, I always carry with me a fear of failure; a fear of failing to be able to be self reliant. It is to this end, I have for several years conducted a job which I am not particularly enamoured of on occasion, and loath on others.

The loathing having become the preponderant emotion in the last year has been poorly timed with the freefall of the labour market. Suddenly, all that education, those -ologies, meant nothing if I couldn’t work. I don’t want to work particularly, but I recognise the strains of my middle class lifestyle too. And so, I have lived out a dilemma – do a job I hate in order that I can hold on long enough to find another.

And I have found another. I feel naked and barely qualified, but still a challenge, of whatever sort, is what helps justify an existence.

The moment of resignation unbuckled the belt of the last year around my chest, and allowed me to inhale deeply and securely. For the moment, I am free. I am in flight between two places, neither of them permanence but each allowing, for a period at least, for the fear to be pushed back and the cool, calm air to lay over me.