A Day in the Life of Ally

Post LXXVI

Kesha once sang ‘waking up in the morning feeling like P. Diddy’. I feel like this line resonates rather well with me, as I often wake up feeling like an arsehole.

This was how my Friday started.

Now, I’m fully aware that Miss Sebert was probably referring to the vast wealth of P. Doodle (or whatever he’s called), but I ask this: between him and me, who is the richer man? Him, with his lousy mod funk beats, a demoralizing collection of women, tens of millions of dollars, fifty mansions, an array of boats, probably a death star and, most importantly to I, a proud Yorkshireman, a solid gold teakettle? With a charming cosy, knitted by Floridian grandmothers with more stories about wars than there have been wars. Or me, with none of that? Who is the richer man? It’s him, isn’t it?

I call this the Friday blues. It’s actually like this for me most weekdays. And weekends. Every week of the year. I don’t know why I feel the need to single out Fridays. Could be for dramatic effect, or because it sounds good, or, almost certainly, it got this paragraph off to a promising start. Didn’t end quite so promisingly though, did it? Ha.

I actually had a meeting to attend five miles north of where I live. I was nervous. Panicked, even. It was a job meeting. Trying to find work in the unemployment black spot of the UK whilst simultaneously living in a town the government abandoned (and it shows), isn’t easy. But I don’t like feeling rushed into making decisions, and that place where the meeting was, they push and push you into doing something. Anything. It was my date with destiny. Oh heck, I can’t believe I just said that.

I was shaking, pale and sweaty. It’s my usual look. I did spend the morning meticulously straightening my long, gorgeous locks. Making myself look smart and respectable, which I tells ya, is no easy task when you look like a ferret that’s just been thrown into a moving fan. But I boarded the bus that would take me into the town and to the meeting, despite the fear, more scared than ever.

In typical fashion for me, the bus broke down, I arrived 20 minutes late and I got a right good old royal bollocking. Their argument was simple: “If you knew you were going to be late, you should have called us on your mobile”. “I didn’t know the number and most importantly, I don’t have a mobile”, came my reply. “Sir”, started their retort, “you’re 22, there’s no way we’d possibly believe such a blatant lie like someone your age not having a mobile”. I was outraged, I was. I nearly stormed out and went back to my farm on my horse and cart to relax and cool off with some cider and barn building. Jeez, the cheek of these modernists.

The meeting went better than I’d expected. I’ve been put forward for an environmental apprenticeship working for the council doing… I have literally no clue what. Don’t know even if I’ll get an interview, but hey ho, it’s something. I guess my apprehension is more to do with being stuck in a jobless rut. You get used to a lifestyle and a way of thinking that’s almost impossible to break out of.

It’s difficult when you don’t have friends or anyone to talk to, to find a path in life. You just wake up alone each day and try to forge your way through life. Sure, you make plans but plans are made to be broken. Where will I be in a decade? Don’t know. I’d like a house. A stable job (a steady job, not working with horses). I’d be happy with that. I have a good life and everything I need (for now), my health and my family. What more could a guy want?

I try not to think of the future. Try not think about if I’ll ever overcome my shyness and extreme introversion that I’m sinking deeper and deeper into with no obvious way out. Try not to think about if a girl will ever find me attractive, give me my first kiss and non-related handholding and hug; although I’ve all but given up hope that’ll happen. All I can do is think for the moment. And enjoy it. Which I do.

And, of course, I can pray that one day I’ll stop waking up feeling like P. Dandy and will start feeling more like myself.

And that, my friends, was my Friday.

American former president, Abraham Lincoln (1809-1865) once said: “The best thing about the future is that it comes one day at a time”.

Peace Out :|:

Site News: I’ve updated the blogroll page – if a link is wrong or down, you can tell me by leaving a comment. Thanks.

(I’d love to hear your thoughts on this post. You can leave a comment and/or like this post by clicking here and scrolling down to the bottom of the page. Feel free to check out my second and third blogs. Likes and follows greatly appreciated. Thanks)

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