Saturday, 14 May 2005

Ruminations of an Ageing Queen

I find myself in a strange, mildly depressive but also angry mood at the moment without even really knowing what triggered it. Some would say: typical attitude from a homosexual: enjoyment without responsibility!
My guess is this mood is due to a compound of an underachiever's complex and the fact that my body keeps on reminding me of my age.

The underachiever's complex is nothing new and is of course driven by some deluded (and apparently wide-spread) impression that life owes one something; which of course it doesn't (I blame the parents!). I am almost 31 and nothing to show for it. I have a Master's degree level of education and yet find myself being paid way below the average London salary (which is £30,984 according to the Guardian while Visit London breaks it down to about £21k pa for manual jobs and £42k pa for non manual jobs). This would be sort of ok if I liked what I do but I have one of the most boring jobs on earth (the sort where you are asked to leave you brain at home in the morning. No! I am not in the army any more.) and am therefore starved of intellectual nourishment. All of this is not, to say the least, conducive of a feeling of self worth and achievement. The worst point in all this, is that whatever I do, I don't seem to be able to take myself out of this mire. Extremely frustrating. Makes you want to wield the handbag sometimes!

As for the age thing, in my mind's eye, I still see myself as the strapping 22 or so year old I once was while my body is now over 30 and keeps bringing me back to a more realistic outlook. I have aches I never used to have, I am constantly tired, and I generally feel I am slowly starting to fall to pieces (which, in a way, I suppose I am). Hence a feeling of loss of control not suited to the piece of mind of the anal control freak that I am.

Yesterday, listening to Radio 4's Any Questions, I heard something about pensions and how people should start to realise that the onus is on them to provide for themselves once they have received their legendary gold watch. Due to the situation I describe in the paragraph above, I have of course no pension scheme other (even though I do have few savings). the future looks therefore rather bleak. Since then I find myself pondering quite coldly and rationally how to end my life when the times comes with as little trouble and pain as possible. My conclusion is that a drug overdose is probably the best way to proceed. Might even prove enjoyable.... The problem then is to procure the thing. I can see myself thirty years from now, balding and arthritic, donning my hoody and baseball cap (or whatever it is young poofs will be wearing in those days), avoiding Bluewater Shopping Centre of course, and dragging myself to the nearest club to try and score some dope... The thought!

Euthanasia (let's call the thing by its proper name) is not exactly a new concept for me, I have to say. Since my late teens I have more or less settled that I did not want to grow too old and waste away into vegetative decrepitude. Of course, humans being what they are, one usually get used to much more than one expected and I will probably be still there to enjoy the strong arms of that cute male nurse (I should be so lucky!!!) when nappy changing time comes at the Home in 60 year's time....

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