A very modern angst.

So. Time, methinks for my second entry. I had intended to post daily, a little creative exercise for my brain. But what to wax lyrical upon, well it stumped me. Then it came to me.

I was musing to myself about how hard life can be….how you seem to get to a certain age, and it just seems like a struggle. Being brought up middle class, my whole existence has been about aspiring to what others have got. Thats kind of the point of being middle class, right? That it’s all about keeping up with the Jones? Any who, therefore its natural to me to compare and contrast with almost every other person’s life. And no life can live up to such comparison, especially one as complicated as mine.

I thought, what is it that other people have got that I want, but I don’t have. It’s not domestic bliss and marriage and children, as I wrote about in my first post, I’m a typical old fashion romantic whom wants to shove that into a round peg modern girl shaped hole. So it’s not that. Is it that they’re having some sort of fantastic career, having plenty of money for all those things that make life enjoyable? I don’t think so, because I do hold onto hope that one day I’ll find my niche in life. It’s so much simplier than that….its confidence and bravery and all that good stuff that makes a person contented and happy.

I’m what you would call your typical worrier. I worry about everything, especially what people think of me or how I’m perceived. But then I tend to hold most somewhat at arms length, so I suppose that it’s a self fulling prophecy, that the more cold and aloof I appear, the more people will think I’m a snotty cow. Which is fair enough if I don’t speak, apart from to utter the odd scathing remark because it slips out after a drink or five.

To paraphrase Old Blue Eyes, Regrets, I’ve had a lot. I regret that I wasnt brave enough to be all those things that I would have had liked to have done….act, sing, write a novel, make a film, be on the radio….all those sort of professions that generally require confidence and putting yourself out there. I’m not saying I would have succeeded at any of them, just that not being that person, its something at the grand old age of 27, that looking back I wish I’d just seized the day.

I also regret not being more vocal. I’ve learnt rather late in life the power of words. That if you bamboozled people with very long ones, you don’t have to be brave or insulting, you’ll just frustrate those whom wish to pull you down, as there is only so long most less stubborn and argumentative people can take. I wish I’d been more vocal full stop, actually, told the people I loved that I loved them, told the people who were abhorrent that I thought they were twats. Books and words and songs….all things I hide behind rather than lived life. The constant daydreamer whom drifts off so much she forgets to live. I’ve never had a one night stand, or done something daring, or told someone how much I fancied them. Simple things which the rest of world has always done with ease, and yet it escapes me still.

I then got to thinking about two people, and what I would say to them. Not in a regrets kind of way, mainly because I remember dimly going to a barbeque when I was about twelve or thirteen, perhaps a little older, and being given advice on how to live life. It was conflicting advice, like most advice in life is, ironically.

I think of my eldest niece whom reminds me so much of myself, that when you look at pictures of her and I at the same ages, you wouldn’t know the difference. But there is only two and a bit years until she’s seven, the age I first remember feeling fat, first feeling like I’d ended up in the wrong life and that no matter what I did, I was going to mess up. Of not feeling like I had any mark to make on the world. So, I thought to myself that from here on in, its my duty as a doting auntie to makes sure she knows she’s perfect just as she is, how special and wonderful and clever she is, and how much she is loved. Because words are important, that much I have learnt.

I’d, if I had a time travelling device to hand, talk to my younger self. I’d find that awkward girl hanging out in the shadows of a social scene and drag her into the middle of it. I’d stand and whisper in her ear until she said all the things she’s secretly thinking. I’d shove her, literally, towards people and towards life. I’d also take her shopping and buy her a much better wardrobe and get her a better haircut. The nineties were not kind to my sartorial style.

I guess, when one thinks about regrets, about where they are right now, it makes you think of the past. When looking forward, sometimes its enviable that a little looking back will happen. I firmly believe there are so many crossroads in life, when truly your life can go either way. Not in a religious way or anything, just in a fate plus random chaos fashion. I could oh so easily recount some of my personal crossroads, but I’ll save them for later.

Even now, as I’m living it, I can see the same patterns happening, although not quite as much. I’m still addicted to romance, and romantic fiction, which unfortunately gives me perhaps an unrealistic ideal of life, or at least too high a standard. I still really struggle in social situations until the alcohol hits. I still can’t tell people that I like them. Sure, I’m a more polished, more confident, more vocal version of that girl but I’m still her, she’s still within me. I’d love to just wake up tomorrow, in that life that part of me is convinced a different me is living in a parallel world. I suppose all this waxing lyrical, all this thinking about the past, it makes me truly nostalgic.

Is it possible ever for people to stop worrying about the regrets, and the might not bes, and the will not happens? Am I different or normal in thinking that I’m too complicated, too weird, too sad, too geeky, too fat, too emotional to ever be really perfect. to ever be contented and calm. to ever elicit unconditional love and adoration from someone?

Hmmm….its at this point the idea of salsa dancing, or conversational french, or speed dating, or learning how to conquer my vertigo suddenly springs to mind…that maybe I need to take this bollocks called life by the balls, shake it up and just get out there and get going. But then I could just continue to be an observer of life, and therefore able to write to my heart’s content about the way I see the world….

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