I’m currently sat, wrapped in a blanket on a sofa, in Falmouth, Cornwall. It’s not somewhere I planned to be, but my life recently seems to be comprised solely of experiences I couldn’t have envisioned myself having as little as a couple of months ago (Editor’s note: It’s sentences like those where I really see what my old English teacher meant when he called me writing overly “flowery”, all I’m trying to say is that a lot has changed, yet my brain does a dozen somersaults to get there). I’m really trying to embrace that, the freedom you’re afforded when you drop a routine or two is a rarity in life, so I’m looking for something to fall in love with, be it revisiting something I’ve grown out of touch with or something totally fresh. Basically, I’m forcing myself onwards and upwards, and this, children, will be our theme for today.
Specifically, over the weekend I had my first game back as a futsal referee in almost two years. I really bloody enjoyed it. I first took up reffing when I was 14, short and lacking an assertive bone in my body, I was terrified to begin and was quickly proven right to be so. The learning curve is undoubtedly steep, with protective parents and maniac managers egging on pubescent players, all fighting in the opposite corner to the isolated boy in black, those pitches can seem like the biggest things in the world. Gradually though, you start to feel less like you’re making it through games by the skin of your teeth and more like you’re actually earning your pay. You start to learn how to control games, how to identify impact points that will lead to inevitable escalation or players who will run the game away from you if you give them half the chance, and more importantly how to deal with them. Sunday wasn’t exactly the kind of war zone I’m describing here, just a pre-season friendly, but nevertheless it was uplifting to jump back into that environment and not feel immediately overwhelmed as I had feared. Take that, doubts.
Seeing the Monkeys also reminded me why I used to bounce from one live show to the next. Not much else can give you such a sense of community and belonging, surrounded by people living for that exact moment and nothing more; plus I quite like the sensation of your ears ringing when you’re in bed hours later. So, minutes after uploading the last post, I bought tickets to see The Magic Gang and Idles at Rock City in the coming weeks, both of whom’s albums are up there with the Monkeys’ for me this year, in case you care, which you don’t.
As for something new, I’m forcing myself to explore a bit more, sofa-blanket combo notwithstanding. This past week so easily could have been another reclusive, melancholy affair, but instead, I’ve put myself out there a bit: received my first job rejection (hurray!), blistered half my foot up getting into a new sport, and finished up with a 300 mile drive South to escape the rain (Editor’s note: reading that back it sounds like I would have been better off with the depressive episode, but it was actually fun, trust me. Also, I’m about to try and use my degree in the next sentence, so please excuse the flamboyancy). Being unhappy in your comfort zone is a bit paradoxical to me, like Theseus’ ship not quite being the same as before, the only thing to do is accept things have changed and move forward.
I’m starting to feel like the wheels are in motion, slowly dragging me away from the stagnation I was in, but there is definitely a long way to go. Writing all this down is still a little strange to me, I’ve never kept much of a diary before, but it’s helping me calm the storm. Like putting the hours on my referee clock, I’m starting to see things a bit clearer with each post, and I can’t wait to update you all again soon (Editor’s note: nothing really to add here, just writing ‘editor’s note’ make’s me feel all professional so I’m treating myself, ’til the next time everybody!).
Dan
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