The Existential Escape Pod

I have an addiction. It is a modern addiction. It is a debilitating and dangerous addiction. It is a serious health risk. It is a serious problem.

It's not hard drugs. It's not alcohol. You may be surprised (or not) when you work out (or I tell you) what the addiction is. You might be addicted yourself. I know a good many people who, on reflection, are just as addicted as I am, if not worse.

The addiction can ruin lives, kill, cause social and psychological problems and yet it is not widely publicised.

Of course, the first step to recovering from an addiction is recognising you have the problem and then doing something about it.

So let me tell you about my addiction. My addiction started in 1982. I was very young. It wasn't so bad then. I could sneak a fix without people noticing. I suppose those around me didn't know any wiser. I gradually became withdrawn. I interacted less and I became gradually obsessed with my new addiction.

I managed to kick the habit, mostly without realising, in 1990. I became more sociable interactive and better. But, like giving a glass of whisky to an alcoholic, by 1994 I was back on the addiction. You see, I didn't realise it then. But I do now. I know what the problem was and I can see it for what it is. I can see, reflectively what issues it has caused through my life. I can see when my life changed. I can see that changes in my life occurred when I was able to get my fix.

By 1997, because of a change in circumstance, I was able to kick my habit unknowingly but less than 2 years later I was, unwittingly, back in the addictive frame of mind.

This return was heralded by changes in society. I was able to gain my fix daily. Sating my addiction without anyone noticing.

Then we get to today. Don't get me wrong, this isn't completely a flash of inspiration here. This is a gradual understanding culminating with a huge smack across the face with the fish of reality. Today I realised my addiction. Tomorrow I am going to change.

Naturally the first place I looked to for a cure was the internet. The internet told me, in a perverse way, that yes I had an addiction. An addiction that is only now starting to come to light socially. There is little care or help available for people like me.

( My addiction )

Thank you for reading. If you are reading this on LJ or one of the RSS feeds I have, please could you tell other people that know me about this post. Link to it if you will. It will hopefully make people realise that the first step is realisation, the second is control. Or something like that.

Like hens teeth, jobs in Barnsley are few and far between. Despite the recruitment agencies' hordings and placards declaring "Opportunities available now" every single one I've visited has resulted in "Just leave us your CV, we're a bit quiet at the moment because of the down turn".

This amuses and puzzles me. I have never had success through recruitment agencies. Never. Well, ok maybe once, but that ended in disaster.

Looking back:

3 jobs by visits
2 jobs by being in the right place at the right time
2 jobs advertised in Liverpool Echo
2 jobs via Job Centre
1 job via internal notices.

I don't know why I find it so hard to get a job. Perhaps it is my face. Perhaps my face says "Don't give him a job". Next week I am lowering my standards and going for whatever I can get.

The weekend taught me that there are far too many people in the world. The places I visited were swarming with tourists and worse, screeching brats. While I am not a fan of segregationist policies I would wholly back a scheme where places were required by law to display whether their premises allowed screeching children. I don't know what it is about them but they always seem to get my back up.

I discussed, tongue in cheek, my plans, should I ever become supreme ruler of the Earth, of how the overcrowding of the planet could be resolved by the application of a voluntary cull. It would work by accepting applications from the populace to take part in a cull. The incentive would be that for a week, volunteers would be allowed to live in the lap of luxury. Fulfilling every whim and desire. Their payment for the reward? To be culled. Then, as a thank you for their sacrifice each volunteer would have their name forever engraved into a monument marking their contribution to society.

Of course I will not become supreme ruler of the Earth. So the cull would not take place. Instead we must look forward to severe over crowding, draining of resources, world poverty for the many and much worse.

I've been very gloomy of late. I suspect it is something to do with lack of things to occupy my mind.

Last night I watched Psychoville, the new comedy from two of the League of Gentlemen, on BBC 2. As I am now confind to one room of my house I have jury-rigged a contraption using an old VHS player and a USB media converter which enables me to use my PC as a TV.

This morning, when I woke my computer up, as every morning, I flicked on my VHS player so that I could tune into BBC Breakfast. Now, the way the thing is set up is that sound comes out but not video until you use the video application on the computer then you can see and hear the TV.

So I heard the sound of the TV. It sounded like some character on a childrens programme talking about something that might be, in a casual listen, news. I thought "Oh My God These are better than Susanna Reid and Charlie Stayt!" and then I realised, I hadn't actually switched over from BBC 2 last night. Silly me.

Honestly Reid's news delivery is so painful its like shitting glass diahorrea while sat on a salty toilet seat.

I was pleased to note though, that BBC Radio 3 is broadcasting Purcell's opera Dido and Anaeas tomorrow night. I dusted off my copy of the score and fished out my CD just in case I miss it.

In other news, I made a cracking gravy last night. I used the pan I'd fried two pork chops in, added the water I'd boiled the cabbage in, a bit of mustard powder and some gravy granules before stirring rapidly. I then added a good slug of Henderson's Relish. When I finally move from South Yorkshire, I will miss Henderson's.

On the move front, we had our first viewers in 3 months the other night, they mooched about but to me it seemed like they were after a bigger place. The £15k share I was hoping for is decreasing fast. I just hope I win the Lottery-that-I-don't-play at the weekend so I can buy her out.

I picked up one of the national newspapers in the library this morning. Flicking through I was presented with tales of woe, perversion, assumption and worse. It made me think what a horrid world we live in. People making money out of things that deserve more respect, others killing and maiming in the name of belief.

I put down the newspaper and walked away. There are times, recently, where I have been contemplating walking away from humanity, finding a cave or abandoned croft somewhere and becoming feral. Detach myself from the shitty shoe of society. But reality bites and I know I can't run forever.

As compensation however, I am planning on detaching myself from another part of my online life in the next few weeks.

Why is it that most transvestites I've seen about town and in other places are as convincing as a woman as I am as a giraffe?

I'd moan about BBC Breakfast presenters Susanna Reid and Charlie Stayt and how embarrasingly awful they are.

I'd wax lyrical about how the pair make me cringe when they try but fail to be smart when interviewing people.

I'd probably go on about how Mr Stayt made himself look like a complete buffoon last Friday when interviewing Lord Mandelsson. I'd illustrate with further examples of cringe making interviews like that with Alan Sugar this morning.

But nobody reading this will have any idea who or what I am on about. Nor will anybody care. So instead, here are some kittens.

A weekend of geocaching I think. Or maybe I should do some study.

I foresee the following in the next few months.

Previous Tory government being shamed for something they did.
The Treasury suggesting that a move to the Euro would benefit the British economy in these troubled times.
The Conservatives saying it won't
A general election being held in lieu of a referendum on entering the EMU.