Mondays



Bore Da Campwyr or Good Morning Campers. I don't mind Mondays maybe that's because I'm not working at the moment but even when I was working I didn't mind them because for me they were an existential gateway out of the hangover and over thinking of the weekend. Mondays were an excuse and a purpose to think about something else apart from myself, now I have no such excuse but I also find now that I don't need one. If you'll excuse me for a moment I will put my devil's advocate hat on with detachable horns and say something like this:

"We should all work, we all need to work. It gives us purpose to our lives. It gives us a means to live, to be renumerated for our labour. It is an opportunity to be productive. We can then afford to do things with our free time and weekends".

Seems fair enough but if you interviewed people going into work  on a Monday morning they probably wouldn't see it like that. Although earning money is a necessity work is also a distraction from the process of individuation. Of becoming a fully rounded individual. My Occupational Therapist said that I had thrown myself into my previous work and that it important to create a distance between yourself and your work to avoid workaholism which is indeed what I had become in my previous work with the Young Farmers' Clubs of Wales and as Head of Drama at Malory School, Lewisham Borough. I was so driven that I didn't want to stop and contemplate my mortality, who I was and what I was meant to be doing. I am fortunate I have had that opportunity over the last six years but I am still no closer to the answers.

Some are fortunate to find satisfying work, others are not so lucky! I would say that the unlucky ones are victims of their own psychology. They have persuaded themselves that this what they are meant to be doing and that they will accept their fate without too much fuss. We can't all have satisfying work. Some of us have to be indentured labour/wage slaves. Thank goodness for the Welfare State because if not for them I too would be stacking shelves in Poundland. I have identified that I have an entitlement schema, a life pattern where I feel that lifes' rules do not pertain to me, that somehow like Jose Mourinho, that I am the special one.

I have done unsatisfying work in the past because of low self esteem. I did not recognise my talents and qualities and so accepted anything to take my mind off myself but unfortunately it worked in reverse and made me think more about myself. Perhaps we are not meant to think, thinking is the curse of the drinking class or is that work?

One thing I know is that if I don't pull my socks up soon then there will be no work of any variety left for someone with an entitlement schema. There appears to be a lot of competition out there now.

Perhaps the main reason that I am stopping myself from becoming an indetured slave again is 'TAX'. I don't want the government to screw me for Tax. I am not likely to enter the high tax bracket anytime soon but the less you earn, the more it feels like you are being taxed. Taxation is never explained to you. Surely you can work it out for yourself.

Devil's Advocate horns on again

"Your taxes are used for the roads (I don't have a car) for schools (I don't have any children) for hospitals (fair enough) for libraries (the door is stuck and glass keeps smashing) for the Welfare State ( I am Unemployed) for wars in Afghanistan and Iraq (That's a no brainer, of course I want to pay taxes for those) Trident......."