Boredom

Ennui, listlessness, oppressive boredom, verging on suicidal.

I have this, weakness, for want of a better term. Why am I here? What am I doing? Why am I bothering to do anything? Wouldn't it all be nicer if I just didn't exist? And maybe, had never existed at all?

I know intellectually it is nonsense, and I know that there are points in my life that have been glorious, full of life, and the possibility of more to come. But so far I see no reason to having been alive for the last 46 years, and sometimes I wish that I had been still born.

As the taunt in Unreal Tournament goes; life is pain, get used to it.

Love is pain. Well, in my experience it always leads to pain. Indeed, there are times that I feel that women were created by the Great Evil One for the sole purpose of causing pain to good men.

I think though, that this has more to do with work, or the lack thereof, than women. However, even if I had work, but did not have love, I strongly suspect that I would soon descend into the same bottomless pit of emotion.

I have not subjected my blogspace to this before, and writing this is strangely enlivening (as in; the boredom, the listlessness, the overwhelming sense of meaninglessness is temporarily abated to some small degree), and therefore you are not likely to get anything like a solid dose. Talking, communicating, lightens the load, and I guess that even writing to a blog site that nobody reads gives ones emotional self a sense of interaction.

Strangely, I had a great time last evening. Why then the sense of despondency now?
I don't know. And if I did know, then wouldn't I have some sort of potential solution to it all?

Anyhow, backtracking a tad, I have been through some periods of extreme depression, and it should be borne in mind that I was only ten or eleven when I first tried to kill myself. Truthfully, I think that this was the only serious attempt at self destruction that I made, I went through a lot of gaming with my first girlfriend, my emotionally immature nature being egged on by her own neuroses. At twice my age I don't believe she had the right to claim immaturity as a defence. I did have some serious episodes between by first and second relationships, but I navigated my way around them, usually by taking a strategy of divergence.

So, all told, I think that perhaps now I am just a little pissed off that things aren't going my way on the job hunting front and consequently I start to wonder why I am even bothering. The logical solution may be to just head back to Adelaide and straight into more than $100 an hour, but I have locked myself into some contracts here (such as the minimum period on this apartment). I could easily cover those expenses with the income that I would be receiving back in Oz, but that in turn would be an acknowledgement that my 'escape attempt' had failed. And that, in turn, has all sorts of implications deep inside my psyche.

You might understand if you had witnessed some of the nightmares that have haunted my sleep. Not that I have had any for many years now, but a setback like this could re-empower them.

How much of this is due to the ennui that ended my last incarnation? It took me years of hard work to come to some sort of grips with the baggage carried over from that incarnation. It weighted the entire first half of my life (well, first half at this point in this life).

It could be so easy to write this period of history off, to say that due to the inadequacies of the society I was born into how could it possibly be expected of me to achieve any set tasks or lessons of that lifetime?

I have not thought about it in that way, but having moved societies this weakens that argument. And I do remain committed to the undertaking to give it another two or three months. I fully expect my first year here to be hard, but if my second is as well then I will move on.

Life has the supposed potential to be enjoyable and invigorating, but locked in my own head I don't take the risks necessary to gain those rewards. And yet everyone that I know compliments me on my bravery in taking the risk in moving my career to another country, indeed, another society.


(Yes, strange isn't it. Even though the English spelling is 'vigour' {'vigor' being the US spelling}, it is not 'invigourating' but rather 'invigorating'. Perhaps the 18th century wave of adding 'u's to words to attempt to recognise non-existent French origins only affected the root word and the derivative words were not altered? And yes, the corollary of that is that the American spellings without the 'u' are, in fact, historically correct, whilst the English spellings are an incorrect nonsense.)