The End is Nigh

I've spent my life seeing problems be fixed with "a nice cuppa tea". I'd never really questionned it. Maybe "a horrible cuppa tea" wouldnt have solved the world's worst problems, but a nice cuppa PG definately would. My Dad would have a lousy day at work, no problem. My Nana would get shoved on the bus by some adolscent fool, bingo, give her a cuppa.

As I grew older, I was given the same treatment. Ok, so lets be honest, it wasnt the cup of tea that made everything feel nice again, but having a hug, and a talk, and just feeling loved. So, whats the conclusion here? Love is the answer to all problems? Not quite.

I dont know if people actually do it in real life, or if it's just in the movies, but I have an image of one of those guys walking around with a 'The End Is Nigh' boards on his back. If I saw one tomorrow, and it happened to be right, I wouldn't be too bothered... and I wouldnt be too surprised either. Natural disasters are hitting us left, right, and centre. An incapable man is controlling the most powerful country in the world. We're destroying the world and its' inhabitants, whether it be through unimaginable amounts of debt and poverty, through war, through terrorism, or with polluting our world in insane amounts. And nobody seems to care, or the people who do care don't have the power to do anything about it. We're living in the here and now, doing what we can to make money now, without a second thought for our children and grandchildren.

I know there are people who have been putting out this message for much longer than I have, and much more forcefully than me too. I dont care enough, to be honest. I care enough to make a passing comment about it, but dont really have much if any intention to do anything about it. I feel sorry for the people who do care with every ounce of their being, who do love this world and the people in it, because they're fighting a losing battle, and one which will go on until we destroy our world and the people in it completely.

I was thinking of my conclusion and it is horribly depressive. I dont know whether that's to do with my mood, or the reality of our situation. For small problems, and even mediumish sized ones, love can be the answer. Whether it's the cuppa tea, or hug, or "I love you", but the problems are world is facing right now have gone beyond repair, as far as I'm concerned. Maybe there can be damage limitation, maybe love can plug some holes, and build some bridges, but there just seems to a few big clues, like pointing, red cartoon arrows in the sky, telling us that our time is going to be up soon.

The sweetest thing I've ever known was like a kiss on a collar bone. Soft caress of happiness, the way you walk your style of dress. I wish I didnt get so weak, ooh baby just to hear you speak. Makes me argue just to see, how much you're in love with me.

That's what being in the working class is all about -- how to get out of it.

Some people call the working class the backbone of society, whereas others call them a drain on society. I think I sit somewhere comfortably between the two, being from two working class parents who worked their way up on to some middle to lower middle class platform. I feel anger for the working class, as well as jealousy, and a whole load of other confusing thoughts and feelings in between.

In Manchester, I drink at a local pub which is mainly filled with working class people, drinking, farting and swearing like there's no tomorrow. They are honest, and straight forward, as well as rude and careless. There's one woman I've spoken to, who has recently got married and had a baby, and she told me all she wants in this life is a nice little house with a backgarden. That is her goal. No ambition for a mansion, for a big car, or private school education for the children, just a house with a backgarden. Part of me felt sadness for this woman who had no drive for the best, but then part of me was happy. I have dreams for all those things I listed above, but would I be anymore happy than her? If I got a mansion, a big car and private school education for my children, would I be happier than she was in her nice little house with a backgarden where she could sit with her husband and watch their son play?

There are plenty of smart children who live on the council estate she does, who went to the school their parents, aunties and uncles, brothers and sisters, and cousins did, and aspired for nothing greater than what the family members before them achieved. Why should they? Their mum only has three GCSEs and she's fine, right? Working in the local supermarket day in day out, with the occasional shift at the local pub never did their mum any harm, so why should they want more?

I cant quite separate my feelings on these people, who are as content, if not more so, than the classes above them. They could be so much more, they can see so many great things, and be a part of something better than the locals' dart team. They could do alevels, they could go to university, they could be the boss, they could have the big house and fast car, but they don't seem to want it. Or maybe they dont feel they deserve it, or could even get it if they tried?

Are my definitions of "better" things materialistic? I cant go to my local and have a drink with my grandma, then have a chat with cousin, and finish the night with buying my brother in law a pint. I know plenty of people who live off that estate who have that night weekly, at the least. Is that not better? Is it not better to be content with what you have, however big or small that is? Part of me is jealous that I'm not content with what I have in the way they do.

There's that TV show 'Shameless' about some poor, crazy, immoral working class family from Manchester. Is being shameless so terrible? Is living your life the way you want to, warts and all, such an embarrassing or bad way to live?

People find it very easy to criticise the working class, with an image of drunken brawls, of swearing idiots, of crude law breakers. Amongst all of these stereotypes, there's a lot of love, and unity, between family and strangers who are all fighting the same fight... and yes, honestly and truthfully, part of me is jealous of what they have. Part of me wishes I was shameless.