Off the beaten track (Dec 2016)

I've gotten into a bit of a rut recently. I know what I need to do to succeed, but I can't find the motivation to get it done.

I guess it's like knowing the way to some place on a map, but lacking the tools (compass) or knowledge (motivation, in this case) to get there.

I've recently been able to flex my mind a little in the run up to the end of my phone contract. I've been learning all about phone tech, and enjoying learning new things. I hope what I've learnt can be used in my future career as a journalist, either for blogging purposes or for reviews and articles.

But I can't help thinking that, aside from learning new things, I'm just putting my life on hold and hoping things get better without my saying so. And I know things will get worse unless I act now.

See, my problem is I don't think I'm good enough. I probably am, considering all I'm really going to do to launch my career (and, simultaneously, life) is work experience.

But I just don't feel like I'm good enough - even to be a trainee at a local newspaper. The more I tell myself that I'm not good enough, I start to doubt myself even more. And now I've dug a hole so big, I'm not even sure there's a way back up to the surface.

I just don't seem to be able to 'act now' or react to the rut (the sad, sad hole I've dug myself) to powerfully enough to get back to normal, whatever normal is!

Hopefully I'll find my way back onto the main road of life, and back on track with my career. That is, if it isn't already too late...

Thoughts

I have all of my best thoughts right before I turn my phone off and drift off to sleep. It always tends to be at around 6am as a new day dawns.

But when I arise from my bed, I am not as positive as when I went to sleep. I think negative thoughts. I breathe negativity. I am negativity.

I always wonder, just before I put my phone down and bury my head in my pillow, if someone out there is feeling the same way as me, but I guess that's one of the pitfalls of depression - I'll remind myself that nobody else feels this way and that I'm all alone.

And as I start my day, right up until that morning cup of tea, I'll make the process of getting out of bed as long as possible. Much longer than it needs to be. I keep putting off the action of getting up, as if staying in bed longer means I don't have to face those issues. That staying in bed means I might drift off back to sleep and then I won't have to deal with those issues. With life itself.

The are just idol thoughts in my happy time, before I drift off to sleep as others awake and go off to work. I just thought I'd write them down so that, when I awake later this morning/afternoon, I can read them back and realise that I'm still the same person. I'm the same person that went to sleep happy.

So, why is it that I feel different, more tired, and less energetic, than when I went to sleep before? It just doesn't make any sense. It's not rational. It's not normal. It's not healthy. It's not anything, but it is everything negative.

Spam tagging - a [now] commonplace annoyance,

Spam tagging. Just don't. I don't mind mates tagging me in things and banter etc. but tagging me and using my account, without my permission, to earn followers, is unacceptable.

Social media, whether it's Facebook, Twitter, Instagram or any other network, is supposed to be there to be enjoyed, not avoided for fear of being spammed every five minutes!

I tend to keep my followers, likes and email subscriptions down to a minimum for this very reason, so that I'm not bombarded with notifications and important stories every time I log in.

I realise that this has the effect of making me look like a misinformed, boring fart with no interests. But how else are you supposed to manage and organise your social media accounts?

I've also been setting up multiple accounts since September 2015 to handle the volume of traffic if it's unavoidable. I now have 2 accounts on every site - a personal account just for me, and the account that I'm proud of and that is also a statement about who I am if employers are looking me up.

But multiple accounts leads to people demanding access (by way of friends and followers) to your personal account because otherwise, if they've only got access to your professional account, they're not communicating with the 'real' you. And for some, they want that access - because otherwise their trust in you means nothing.

A place to be free: what is the purpose of this blog?

As I've already mentioned in an earlier post, I've kept this blog as an aside for my own personal ramblings. You see, it just wouldn't be a good idea to mix these personal ramblings with news content on either my WordPress blog or my news website.

I use my WordPress blog to share and discuss my opinions on news stories, both locally and internationally, and sharing those opinions via a blog is something that is encouraged in all Journalists these days.

My news website, however, is an online news portfolio and a home for all news stories written by myself on a freelance basis.

This blog therefore acts as a diary...

It is a place where I really can set my mind free.

A place every I don't have to adhere to the restrictions of society.

A place where I can go to think about my life and insecurities.

A place where I can set my mind at ease.

A place where I can express how I really feel without having to be careful to not post anything which may offend or hurt someone close to me.

A haven for my mind.

Transitions

My 25th Birthday came and went. I enjoyed the day, but turning 25 was not as elatious as I had expected it to be.

To be honest, for the past year, I've thought I was already 25. I felt like I was 25. Every time someone would ask how old I was, I had to stop and think about it, before admitting that I was a mere 24 years old.

And so I've started to wonder. I wonder if my life was better 5 Years ago, and whether my shadows are ever going to catch up with me. They probably will, it's just a matter of when.

Todat I've been reading into my blog title. I know that may make me sound a bit self-conscious, but I'm starting to wonder why I chose the name.

Shadows of my former self - I suppose I was drawing on the use of the name of the film noir I had helped to produce in A-level Media Studies, Shadows Present. But now that I think about it, was I trying to send myself a message? Shadows of my former self - was this a message from my present self to my future self?

I must first clarify that what I refer to as my present self is now, in fact, my past self; and that my future self is now my present self, which is one reason why I entitled this post Transitions.

I'm in a state of transitioning from being educated, to starting out in the world of work. Sure, I've had a couple of jobs in the past, but they were inextricably linked to my life as a university student. Now I'm a person, and I'm expected to just up and get a job. I'm back where I started when I graduated in October 2014 - looking for jobs and feeling helpless again.

I admire my enthusiasm from 6 or 7 years ago, evident in the slogan or sub-title of this blog - “Shadows appear where the light cannot reach, only visible to the observant, all-seeing Eye.”

Exactly what was it that I was trying to say? That your Shadows will always follow you around until you learn to accept they're there and turn around to confront your past? Pretty much.

But that meaning seems all but meaningless now...

5 Years Time

Since my last post, I've been deep in thought. Deep in thought about who I was, who I am, and who I am hoping to become.

I haven't used this blog to vent my mind in a while. I'm frightened to use my newer blog on WordPress because I know a few people read it - people whom I don't want to read these ramblings. I only started using this blog again this year, for the first time in 5 years.

If I think back to when I studied A-level Media Studies at Suffolk New College (2008-2010), one of the videos we had to produce was a music video. It was the second year of the course, and moving on from producing a neo-film noir opening sequence, we now had to find a piece of music and plot a music video for it.

If I remember correctly, although comprised of just 3 people (myself, Josh and Emily), my group decided to make a music video for Noah and the Whale's song 5 Years Time.

I realise they already had a music video, but we decided to make one anyway, as our skills at sourcing out a local group and song were limited at best. As the main cameraman, my creativeness was flowing through my body. When we were out filming in the cold of winter, I was allowed to run wild with my imagination.

We had a plot for our video - a breakup between a boy and a girl, and how the song 5 Years Time was reminiscent of a happy time in the past and a not-so-happy future. We would use the stock, gloomy and very wintery video footage for the present, and edit all of the quirky footage of the happy memories with filters I post production - specifically a 'Super 8mm film' effect, to simulate the happiness and reminiscence of home videos.

Recently, I've been very much relating to the lyrics of the song (and our take on the meaning of them) in the year 2016 - just over 5 years on from when I started blogging about my experiences at university. I wouldn't start blogging about student life professionally for another 2 years (when I would write 3 blogs per fortnight, which worked out at about 6 blogs per month, for the UCS Students' WordPress blog).

I guess my love of blogging came off the back of college - when I had been tasked with blogging about my thoughts, ideas and contributions to our Media Studies group project and keeping a running diary of the production process.

And so, here I am, just over 5 years later, wondering if I was, indeed, happier 5 years ago. I guess I don't really know the answer to that one...

Where did I go?

“...after about five minutes of sitting in my room watching my Dad's car turn the corner and travel down the road out of sight, my sadness is replaced by the eagerness to 'be a student'. I decided to open my door and introduce myself again to my fellow flatmates, and find that just talking to them eases my insecurities about living on my own with strange new faces. I have only been here for an hour, I haven't even had any lectures or seminars, and yet already I feel like a 'proper' student.”

Student at the Centre of the Universe - where did that person go? That person who was so full of confidence, so full of life; so young, inexperienced and immature, and yet so kind and fun at the same time?

“We have to remember that sometimes what we refer to as 'fate' can shape our futures and determine us as a person. It is therefore possible... that some things in our lives are meant to happen... and for the better.”

Where did this person go? The person who was so spirited and thoughtful? The person who was so excited about life that he didn't care what other people thought?

I don't like that he's right, but he is! Never have any words been truer than, “what we refer to as 'fate' can shape our futures and determine us as a person.”

I feel awful. I'm starting to regret who I've turned into. That kind spirited person has gone, and what's left is an empty shell of what I look like from the outside. I'm still the same ugly person as I always was, but now I've lost my personality. I'm dead.

Those words, those blog posts... they feel like a decade ago, and yet it's only really half that - 6 years.

Six years since I started university.
Six years since I first left home.
Six years since I became someone.
And yet, now, I feel like another nobody.

Loner. Outcast. Outsider.

How are you supposed to feel about returning to being a loner? How are you supposed to react when you feel like the outcast of your social group, and the outsider to your own social life?

All of the above, is true of me. I am returning to a life I never thought I'd return to, and once again I feel lonely.

I feel like the outcast in my group of mates. That is definitely becoming true: over the past year, I've been studying for a qualification in Journalism, and a lot of my spare time at weekends has instead been spent revising for exams. Recently, I had some free time and was looking forward to going out - my mates and I even had a Facebook message group going about meeting up. But then I found out that I was being ignored by my mates, who decided to go off and have a night out without me (having already said they couldn't because they had work in the morning - lies? Why are they avoiding me?).

I am the outsider to my own social life: the summation of this petty blog post. It is the inevitable conclusion that I must face in order to review a set amount of events that can only be realised with one horrible little word: fate.

I had a social life - I did! But that was called University. My social life started when I started university, and finished just after my graduation.

About a year afterwards.
But still, it has ended.
Finished.
The End.
Fin.

Every photograph - every memory - has now faded like shoddy photo prints and poor quality Polaroid-wannabes.

Every meet-up in the future now just a worthless heap of never-will-happen's lying amongst the banana skins and household waste in the bin, outside.

Everyone who can be out tonight, is out tonight. All while I lay on my bed, typing this meaningless garbage, wondering if someone else is out there reading this and laughing at me and my problems while they enjoy their life.

Or, am I over-reacting? Did they forget to check their messages, and I just accidentally fell into the never-ending spiral of texts? Was it all just a mistake and I'm the boon for over-thinking everything?

Have I finally become mad? Obsessed with how others view me and how they'll view me when I'm no longer here? Is this what madness feels like? Am I ready to be imprisoned and locked (or, kept?) away from society - in a mental asylum.

Is this the beginning of the end, for me and my life?

Acceptance of Being a Loner

[Context: I'm a journalism student, I've had a lot of work on my plate and a lot of studying to do. For this reason, I haven't been able to meet up with my mates since February for our monthly pub crawl around London.]

Our latest meet up was gathering a bit of momentum, everyone was looking forward to it - especially me, as I haven't seen my mates for the past few months. I was really optimistic about seeing them, about having a break for a day or two and then returning to work.

About a week ago, everything started going downhill. First, I messaged one of my mates about staying over again (overnight accommodation is expensive in London, so it's a great help and a thank you to him for putting me up each time).

His reply was that he couldn't be bothered, that all of our other mates will say the same thing yet again - that they will come but then won't. Little did I realise, he was actually talking to me, about me (!).

Next thing I know, he's on Facebook telling everyone he's got work the next day so won't be able to come out.

The conversation goes quiet, for a whole week. I tentatively send out a message asking if our meetup is still going ahead, or are we giving it a miss.

Nobody answers. Instead, everybody chooses to ignore me. Then Saturday comes along, and still no reply. Maybe we aren't meeting up, I thought, maybe it's next weekend.

Then, to my surprise, my tactless buddy puts up a Facebook status about how he's enjoying watching a football match with mates. My/our mates. In a pub. On a night out. Did everyone just choose to ignore me and go ahead anyway? Why am I being ignored? If they wanted to hang out without me, why not just say so?

I'm beginning to doubt my life, and question whether or not its all just a bunch of lies. Nobody likes what I like, no one I talk to is interested and always changes the subject while I'm talking.

Have I lost touch with society? I'm nearly 25 and I'm now getting the same treatment as when I was a teenager, but with different people. Have I returned to being the person nobody wants to talk to - because they think I'm gay, weird... etc.

Maybe I should just give up on life. Maybe I was destined to be a loner after all, and my student life while at university was just a summer holiday for my life - and now I've crashed back into the reality of being me.

Maybe I was never meant to have mates, to be normal, to live like other people.

Maybe this is the world's way of telling it to me like it is, like it really is. Maybe I should stop dreaming, and start accepting. Accepting that I shall never be better than my past self. Accepting that I'll always be the sad person that nobody likes. Accepting that nobody could care less if I died next week.

Lonely Life of a Writer

Writing has always been a solitary hobby for me, one that I conduct behind closed doors, away from distractions and interruptions from the outside world. I'm very much an outcast of society, and always have been.

I had a fantastic time at University. It was a wonderful experience, meeting new people, making friends and getting drunk together. But I realise that most of that life is now behind me, and as I move closer along the path to my chosen career as a journalist, I can feel that solidarity returning.

Weekends are no longer spent socialising and drinking with mates. Weekends are now an extension of my week, my daily routines overrunning into most of Saturday and Sunday.

It's strange: years ago, I would've accepted being this lonely as just a way of living life, my life. But the return of this solidarity has made me question who I really am.

I've learnt a lot about what it means to be a journalist through my training course, and how much you're expected to know about our country, our politics and our laws. All of this knowledge may be secondary to the job at hand (reporting news) but I've started to think recently that maybe my initial aspirations of being a journalist were unfounded, immature and nonsensical.

And there is my problem, also returning to my life: when things get tough, I give up. When failure knocks at my door, I open the door out of some kind of compulsion and welcome it into my life. I'm compelled to believe that I'm a complete and total failure, a waste of space on this planet, another unnecessary human wasting away our oxygen supplies.

And you know the worst part? It feels like I never left this life, my past. It feels like university was just someone else's experiences planted into my brain. I remember this loneliness and it feels like home. It shouldn't, but it does.