Thursday, 25 February 2010
Saturday, 20 February 2010
Wednesday, 17 February 2010
Tuesday, 16 February 2010
"A man can consider himself a success if he wakes up in the morning, goes to bed at night and in between does exactly what he wants” - Bob Dylan
The generally held consensus regarding the long working hours in the UK can easily be seen as yet another stalemate between opinions loading statistical sections to shell at each other while digging in between the bars on graphs, emerging only to be mowed down by a hail of numbers. Meh. Perhaps the whole, probably weak, First World War metaphor here betrays me to be exactly what it is that I am, namely an unemployed recent graduate who has far too much time on his hands who uses it to watch endless hours of the Discovery Channel. Now, it has to be admitted, this is a much better use of my time than the usual day time television that people in my situation would probably watch, an undeniably snooty and condescending comment, which is, ultimately, quite hypercritical.
I suppose the truth of the matter in regards to the hours of which ‘we’ are required to work, like most other things, depends on the unit which you are to look at. The relatively high 41.4 hours per full-time week, a number reported by the BBC, seems mammoth compared to that of the European 27. Of course, the purpose of this little mull isn’t to compare of state anyone as better as anyone else; this is rather more selfish than that. It is, however, hard to ignore such a large gap in between the two. Obviously, as you well know, an average is created from taking the hours from the highest to the lowest and dividing by the number of readings taken, which means that those at the high end of the scale must work a fair amount more than that number, albeit a comparatively small number I do suppose.
British and the US constantly like to have a little giggle at the ‘lack of enthusiasm’ on the Continent, with Bush’s alleged comment regarding the lack of word for ‘entrepreneur’ in France being a typical example of, dare I say it, ignorance. Economies and industries seen as struggling, propping up middle weight world players, the richer friends who have the larger house yet can’t afford to warm the place looking down their noses at their moderately life-styled friends, friends who have degrees in the useless art subjects who are throwing their lives away frivolously. It is exactly how I find myself seeing the Western World, not much unlike the parental parties I have found myself passing through in my adolescence and earlier adulthood (yes, still just before the mid-twenty point - more pathetic, or less?). Apart from these kinds of bragging rights what else does this have, this shift into a seemingly over-drive?
Well, I’ll start with some more statistics. Rational arguments, which I really only want to touch on to be honest because my real point is far, far more that of an ultimate dreamer, something I cannot deny being. First, there are the simple health issues. In the UK and US, psychological disorders or irritation are on the rise. Stress, depression and other ailments can be directly, according to some sources of knowledge, to long and heavy working hours. The inability to escape this, even outside of work, works away like termites on the on the mental structure before the whole thing comes crashing down. While the statistic is old, in 2002 the BBC reported that cases had soared by over 6000 cases from the previous years, and many studies since have reported further rises. The economic downturn has affected employees profoundly as well, and the number of work stress related suicide has also risen by 6% since the recession started according to the Guardian. While perhaps this kind of pressure is the price that the citizens of a successful world economic player must pay to keep their collective’s position on that world stage where it is, it is, to me, a high price to pay. It is a faceless concept over the faces of individuals. And while I cannot really argue any intelligent point here without attempting a grand restructuring of how the country operates in order to keep itself running, including the funding of the very necessary social services provided, it seems, in a word, rather miserable.
Of course, happiness has come to be measured in what you can obtain. Wear your income like a medal of honour because if you pull in the bunts, then baby, you have succeeded. This point is obviously unrelated to the above, but it’s true that the dream has become more of this than any other corporeal pursuit. Or, perhaps, if it is for a more corporeal pursuit then it is in hope that the material badge of honour will aid in this, which really takes the mystery out of the whole affair. The link made with another human being is, still to me, a wondrous thing that is utterly unexplainable and quite unanimalistic to me. Sure, I may be an idealist or a romantic or whatever, but I feel that this modern form of animal posturing destroys this mystery. While I believe that Darwin has undoubtedly done our rationalist world a fair amount of good, and I subscribe myself to no religion, this does nothing to deter me from believing in the incommunicable obscure magnificence of human love. Always difficult and always a struggle it is something that transcends the mere survival of the species or any other pure animalistic ideas. Indeed, it causes stress and it causes suicide, but love has a face in the face of a lover. If I am to destruct at any point, it will not be for the faceless notion of a standing on a world stage, but for love.
Here is exactly my point. My girlfriend, whom I have known and loved for close to a decade now, despite our partings and hardships and the moments of absolute hell that have been sublated on our little existentialist adventure thus far is rather an experience so utterly indescribable in takes my breath away attempting to deconstruct it. It is this that has made me ponder those words of a great poet, Mr. Bob Dillon on what it is that makes a success, and that is indeed what it is. "A man can consider himself a success if he wakes up in the morning, goes to bed at night and in between does exactly what he wants”. Now by this I’m not talking of nothing, I’m not speaking about sitting around watching Jeremy Kyle or staying in bed all day, but rather setting oneself up in this world with all its requirements if anyone is to expect comfort so that that comfort can be obtained but you also have as much God damn time in the world to spend that time in comfort together. Not after retirement, not in the twilight years when the muscles ache and the mind is starting to fade into grey, but when you have the spark and energy carry each other to the moon and back, before the world has broken your back.
Exactly what it is that I want to do in between my waking to the world and my exit in the night is to spend as many hours possible with the one that I love. While I do not want us to suffer financially, I don’t want us to suffer our short lives away, apart from each other, stressing about, in the grand scheme of the universe, about things that really are of so little concern. I have an unquenchable thirst for knowledge and for exploring, I hope I get to uncover all I can and uncover all that with her. If Britain is so broken, as so many people like to say, if marriages break and families implode then surely the stress of work is an incendiary for the gutting fire. While hard work is always declared the key, I say, probably over romantically, why struggle. We’re born and less than a century later, we die. I want to spend my years loving, not struggling or stressing.