I would like someone to tell me what I’m good at. I have no idea. I’m 26. I have just completed my degree. My thesis got me a 76. A high 1st. I finished with 2% off an overall 1st Class Honour. Now what? I live at home with my dad. I have very little money to my name, and no practical skill whatsoever. The truth is, I have no confidence in myself.
Sometimes I like philosophy. Camus can keep my attention for a day or two but it soon wears away and all that’s left is the understanding that my fickle nature is unlikely to provide any form of success. Sometimes I like history. Sometimes I like politics. Sometimes I like photography, but I’m no good at it. Sometimes I like art. I drove to Devon a few days ago. On the way home I pulled into a service station on the M5. A kid with floppy hair who looked about 18 years old, got out of his Bentley in his tailor made suit. He must have his own place, and a bright future. He has the ability to support a family. The options are limitless for that guy. At such a young age. When I was 18, I had made the conscious decision that I wanted to fill my mind with as much information as possible on subjects that fascinate me, because school made me believe I was incapable of that. The trouble with that venture was that I am fascinated by vastly different subjects at different times. As a result, eight years later, I can talk you through the life of Thomas Cromwell thanks to Robert Hutchinson’s fantastic biography. I know a Caravaggio painting without being told. I am more than happy to talk about how much of a failure right winged economics has always been. I can point out where the Ten Commandments originated. I can tell you about the French Revolution and November’s fascination with Robbespierre. I can recite Bukowski and Plath, and due to my thesis, I can confidently talk to you about the motives of Lincoln and the early Republicans in their opposition to slavery. How utterly useless. All of it. A waste of time. A rather curious form of self destruction. I am an expert in nothing. I have no long term career goal. I have never known. The World is made for people who have a clear goal, clear aspirations, and a passion. What about the shear mediocrity of the rest of us?
…. ‘it is as if the sun has become disgusted with waiting’.
I do not want to sit in an office filing administrative documents by alphabetical order. Every job I look at is advertised as “Admin work. Be part of a unique and dynamic sales team!!” They are all ‘unique’ and ‘dynamic’… none of them explain why they’re unique and dynamic, or how they are so unique from the other unique company and the unique company before that. Here is a description of one of job vacancies suggested to me:
You will be working within a busy office helping to collate our recruitment documentation. This will include tasks such as requesting references, making calls to candidates and clients, facilitating database records and editing CVs.
- Why would you waste your life with this? No one dreams of collating recruitment documentation. It becomes a means to an end. And that end is, to eat at the end of the day. Life suddenly becomes nothing more than a desperate chase for survival. It goes on…
you must bring an energetic and pro-active
- Energetic? You’re doing nothing but updating an Excel spreadsheet. You leave the World with nothing but a 1mb file. The World doesn’t need you. I no longer wish to feel like a waste of time.
There is nothing that makes me want to dedicate my life to such tedious and patently transparent bullshit. I would be fired pretty quickly. I have sat in an office for four years before going back to university. There is nothing more soul destroying. The outside exists, and your World smells entirely of printer ink and pricks in suits whose arse you must lick to gain any chance at a bit more money…. you know…. so you don’t die. What a putrid existence. Welcome to England and its complete lack of hope.
Conversely, I have had some incredible memories. Once you taste life outside of your four walls, outside the rancid air of an office, you become addicted and you chase more.
I can be too impulsive. I like this about myself. It is a remnant of childhood that I do not wish to lose. But it requires balance apparently. I suppose that is what they call maturity.
I want to find something I am good at. Can make a comfortable living out of. Can support a family with. Can have happy Christmas’s and holidays with. I am 26. I feel time is slowly running out and I am forever on edge, worrying about what comes next.