One day at a time

At the moment life seems to primarily cosist of a concerted effort to reach tomorrow. I’m sure that’s a colossal generalisation, and will no doubt attract concern from various quarters – but I’m fairly certain that more than are willing to admit are persisting through similar journeys.

It’s an odd thing – persisting – isn’t it? When faced with situations we didn’t perhaps choose, or that we don’t perhaps like, we keep putting one foot in front of the other. We “do our best”. We persist. As long as you meet what society judges as mostly harmless, you can continue on with your honourable struggle without too much attention being drawn to you.

It’s a bit of a bugger, isn’t it – doing the honourable thing all the time. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to press the pause button sometimes, vent spectacularly, and then press it once again and continue onwards.

That’s why we need friends.

A proper friend listens to a rant, says encouraging things at the right moments, but ultimately lets us get on with it – because we’re not looking for answers – we’re just venting steam. Venting the pressure created by a world that shits on us at every opportinity it might get. Or at least, that’s how it can seem sometimes.

Later this evening – after dinner – I suggested that we might wander into town for a drink. It’s not really about the drink, or the company. It’s about escaping these four walls for a little while. It’s about listening to somebody else, rather than ourselves.

Escape is a wonderful thing.

I wonder how you put the brakes on escape though? How you resist the temptation to fill the suitcase with marmalade sandwiches?