Solitude lengthens and flames

My last post was an example in itself of what I meant in the first paragraph, how the last post can seem ominous or to grow in weight and/or significance the longer it is left as my last post.

Since then I have considered posts about ice hockey -- I really, really need to start posting about the Chieftain games, but other than the score and the emotion they would be fairly short on details -- considered and rejected numerous subjects for Musical Monday, felt bored enough by work to not want to relive it in blog form later, and everything in between.

Instead I won't update about any of it. I've been having fun creating labels for my blog, then assigning them to posts -- it's not unlike with my gmail. Having to decide how many times one person has to occur before they get promoted to having their own label -- then there's competition between labels, feeling some people should have more posts than others, not wanting work to have as many, wondering if "depression" should have its own label. And if it does, which posts get labelled as such and which just get labelled "blue". Maybe there should be labels like "self-indulgent whining" and "How long has it been since she dumped you? Get over it!".

There are so many more labels needed. But I also want to upload (repost) all of my old diary-x entries. I don't believe there will ever be a viable replacement for d-x any more, I don't believe my old entries will ever see the light of day again if I don't repost them. But then maybe it's depressing to see how far I don't move on?

I have application forms for working abroad in Australia and Canada, but I hesitate. Despite hesitating because at this point I don't have the initial funds they require to start the process, I also hesitate because I'm bothered by the words "what then?" -- say I do go abroad, what do I do then? Obviously, being abroad couldn't be much worse than being here -- but what happens when I come back? It seems in England the closer you get to 30 without solid career experience, in something, the less employable you are. That's what the work experience/internship was meant to be about.

Am I scared of failing, and so instead do nothing? I want to leave, I want to get away -- but I don't want to come back a year older, with my tail between my legs with nothing solid to get my "career" on track. I don't really want to have to come back at all, but that's not really the point -- and probably not even an option. I just don't know where this leaves me. My current job is only a limited 3-month contract -- that's both a blessing and a curse, in some ways.

It strikes me sometimes as absurd that I should want to know what I'm going to do with my life -- if I look at my parents' lives, I don't think their 'careers' were what they would have said "Yes, that's what I shall do with my life", but that doesn't change a thing for me now. I always say it's Step One: Get a job. Step Two: Move out. And from there, it doesn't matter.
But maybe it should instead be "Move out" first, and then "Get a job"? Live dangerously, throw myself into the hands of the fates and see what happens.

But "what happens" so far has tended to be ending up back here, in this black hole of a town.

I'm desperately now trying to think of something to lighten the mood -- I hate it when this blog just seems to be saying "Wah! Life sucks", because it really isn't so bad. I want to capture the feeling of getting out of work and driving home -- even though it's just one day and it's a 6am start again the next morning, the feeling of driving home with my music playing and a smile on my face. Or the feeling of just playing a song I love. I need more moments like that.