Welcome, willkommen and bienvenue!
So, that's about the extent of my foreign vernacular. I have no grasp of other languages, as, my grasp of English is poor and well within the context of my upbringing and social background. Let this revelation act as a disclaimer. I don't profess to know a Stephen Fry-esque vast plethora of words or sayings yet my respect for the English language, I feel, is of extreme importance. I will try my utmost to exclude all abbreviations that are familiar to most, due to the increased popularity of Facebook, instant messaging and text messaging. I am of course talking about 'lol' more than anything else, a term that is used far too regularly and due to it's popularity has bullied it's way into the Oxford dictionary. In essence, this is how words are created, Shakespeare and Chaucer were pioneers of adages we use today and helped shape the language. The language which is indeed a bastard hybrid of many others. It's usage on this isle actually sprung from the arrival of germanic settlers (the anglo-saxons) in the 5th century. Because latin was the Lingua Franca of the christian church, words were doctored and created to suit the popular terms used throughout Europe and thus the anglo-saxon English evolved. Then the normans came over. They tampered a bit more. Now here's my point, without sounding too xenophobic or insulting to our European counterpoints but... the word 'abbreviation' comes from the French (abréviation)...so...I can't help but hold them partly accountable for 'pmsl'...
Well, at my first attempt at writing this 'ere blog I have digressed from the point I wished to catalogue...
Before I go on and bore you to death with useless facts and information, I'd like to include one more disclaimer. As pointed out above, my language and grammar aren't at a brilliant standard (If I get things wrong then please comment in a critical fashion) but I'd love to garner a reasonable command to enable me to fully communicate the extent of my concerns about living this side of the Wantsum. My second disclaimer regards the content of my blog. It is by no means a scathing attack on anyone or any types of people. It is not my intention to talk about others in a derogatory way that would imply there is a class divide between me and them. I do not wish to try and elevate myself above anyone and all observations are simply that: observations. Which brings me neatly to my main blogging point...
Proletarians
A few of you may be familiar with the term. For those of you that aren't it, in bare essence, describes the common worker. I got fond of the term when I read Orwell's 1984 but as pointed out to me, it's origins lie in Marxism. In the novel, the underclass were segregated from others and although the people were under a tyrannical government rule, the proles were not. They were allowed, to a certain extent, to indulge in an ignorant state of freedom becasue they weren't a threat to the power of the government. So when I'm stopped by a man in the street, pushing his two-year-old daughter along in a pushchair with an angry looking pitbull terrier loosely tied to the handle and asked for a light for his joint I tend to utter under my breath 'fucking prole'. It's a term I use all too much. Not for the thick or unlucky but for those who idly pass their time with blind ignorance and without any thought or compassion for others.
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So....I wrote the first part of this a couple of months ago and those of you that have found your way here via facebook may remember that I did threaten you all with this 'ere blog. The truth is, I gave up writing it as I felt that what I was blogging about sounded far too preachy and incredibly pretentious. I have included this just as proof that I can be a spiteful hatemonger sometimes. Also, I believe that when something is written it shouldn't be erased, covered up, burnt, put in a safe then wrapped in chains and finally thrown into the depths of the ocean (I tip my cap to you: Mr. Holland) or what have you. However awfully written or tedious the point made I will do my best to steer from self censorship and endeavour to blog in a way that represents how I feel at the time.
Right. Now all that explanatory gumpth is out of the way I shall begin.
My name's Ben. I'm unemployed. I have the P45 to prove it. I was born in 1984 (fear not, this is not the start of my memoirs). The year George Orwell set his futuristic tale. The year, I was told by my class mates, that 'monkeys went to war'. I was part of the class of 2000. An element of fate about my existence seemed apparent to me and with this teeny tiny coincidence I had decided many years ago that I was destined for great things. I was to be a pioneer in whichever field I applied myself to and as the daydreams went, on the accolades escalated, from Grammy right up to Nobel prize. Dreams that went wildly out of control and grew in my mind exponentially did not, however, materialise. I could blame the recession. Politicians have passed the buck and said it's all our fault. I don't entirely disagree but maybe the Orwellian prophecy has just changed it's form.
That, my friend is also bollocks.
We are all responsible for our own situation. I'm 27, I live at home with my parents, I don't drive, I don't have a job, I have no money, I have no girlfriend. Well boohoo. I'm part of a generation where this sort of thing is none too uncommon. Granted, I have nothing to speak of from my life endeavours but I also have a damn sight more than the physical. I have friends (good ones at that), I have my health, I still have my hair and most importantly I have still have drive.
I still believe that I will achieve something worthwhile.
My ambition has changed somewhat since I first stared into nothingness imagining what size spacesuit I'd need or what my porn name would be. I no longer quest for fame, fortune or a hoverboard, I just want to do well enough to one day receive praise from my peers. My ethos over the past 5 years has generally led to encourage disappoint. It's about high time I reversed that and try to encourage pride.
I've spent my twenty-dom garbaging every opportunity handed to me (and there has been countless) from university to keeping a relationship going. I was never on a downward spiral, I just got sucked into a hedonistic lifestyle that I thought, at the time, was exhilarating.
I'm not trying to convince anyone other than myself that I have changed and been reborn. I need to prove that by doing stuff. Y'know? Adult stuff. Responsibility 'n that. So, before this sounds like a self pitying 'I'm gonna cry because I can't afford a new pair of trainers' story, I will propose that this series of blogs will become a light hearted look at what it's like to be at the bottom and trying to work to the top. So I hit a few snakes? I've just gotta find those ladders.
Who knows by blog #334 I could be your boss.
I will also put my two cents to any subject that you wish to throw at me; the price of apples; is Javier Hernandez actually a lesbian?; religion; how many Susan Boyle's would it take to fill the Grand Canyon?; polygamy; narcissism....absolutely anything.
Without further ado, I will put this first attempt to bed before I waffle on anymore. Please register your interest by sending me a comment or two along the way, it would be massively encouraging to see that someone is observing my plight.
All the best now
'til next time.
p.s. I may include poems and a short story here and there.
