On Being Decidedly Fed Up

Well, this is my blog and I can put what I like on it. You don't have to read it.
You aren't obliged to read about how I currently hate pay-as-you-go phones almost as much as I hate contract phones, in that I've been trying to top up the stupid thing by their fancy automatic method for the past twentyfour hours and the damn service is 'currently unavailable'. I thought technology was meant to make my life easier, not raise my blood pressure through the roof.
Neither do you have to read about my inevitable work struggles, that backlog created through a subtle combination of initial idleness and eventual illness. I say idle, I don't see what is wrong with having a few days off here and there - how was I supposed to know stomach bug from hell would strike and force me to lie quivering in my bed for days, the lack of food and water leading to a brain that functions only to say, 'stomach hurts, don't eat, I'm no longer interested in Ovid and his relation to eighteenth century women poets'.
I guess you don't have to know that I'm back in the throes of one of my, dear God, what am I going to do when I graduate, depressive states. What is the point in it all? You either do something remotely worthwhile in which case you get paid either nothing or as close to nothing as government rules allow, or you sell your soul and work for some giant corporation that is hardly necessary to the continuation of health, humanity or the globe in general but has managed to convince a good portion of the world's population that its continued existence is essential. What was the argument I was having yesterday? Oh yes, the EU. Isn't it such a marvellous creation - thanks to the EU, I could go work in France or Germany with no problems at all. Brilliant. The fact that a few hundred years ago I could go work and travel wherever I bloody well wanted and didn't need the nod of some huge umbrella organisation to do so is of course irrelevant. The EU is merely functioning to bring the world back to what it used to be - but being part of this globalised hell in which we all have to live, it'll never work. Not fully.

Here's the issue. I CAN'T work for any of those organisations - the ones that actually pay remotely decent wages - even if I wanted to. Not only because I have acknowledged all the lies and its ultimately fake construction, but because of the environment. I can't get up at 6am every day and squeeze myself into the confines of a suit, ram myself into a packed tube train and get hurtled across London via the odd bomb or two into a nice and modern chrome-with-glass office. To sit around and push paper and pretend it means anything to anyone. To have to work myself half to death because that is what other idiots are prepared to do and why the hell should they get promoted if I'm not. It would kill me doing all that. Or if not me, any element of me that feels remotely alive.

Yes, today is just going to be one of those days. Marvellous.