Football: Losing My Religion

July 24, 2017

I listened to your feedback last time about me sounding too posh, and I tried to lessen the blow. As a result my annunciation is poor in places. I’m still very interested to hear your feedback on this and whether or not it is an improvement on the last recording. I hope you enjoy it. 

August will mark the start of the third Premier League season I have spent living abroad. Whilst the passing of time terrifies me, what worries me more is that I am losing touch with something I was once so passionate about. And that without intention I have let the monopoly of knowledge I once held slip through my once poised-to-type fingers. 

Lately I feel as if I can hardly string a sentence together about football and it’s getting me so depressed. It isn’t helped by the feeling that every time I talk to somebody on the subject that they are testing my knowledge. That they’ve heard I know about the topic and they want to prove me wrong. 

Funnily enough, I DID see Gary Lineker presenting in his pants. We streamed Match of the Day on the televisions at work, and watched without any sound. 

Being in Germany means that so much information passes me by. I can’t just sit and watch Match of the Day or Sky Sports and pick up new titbits. Now I have to actively seek these out and to be frank I just don’t have the time or energy. I know my knowledge and insight should be enough but without the commentators to bounce off of - well, the ideas well has run dry. I am haunted by the realisation my “potential” might not be enough. 

With the rise in internet personalities you are met with a plethora of people already excelling at what you want to do. Sure, you’re cool - but you’re not that cool. Think you’re an expert? Think again, my friend. I know that there is an element of rose-tinted vision when viewing people you don’t know, but it is difficult to look on without envy.

I can’t shake the feeling that I’m not talented or knowledgable enough to ever get anywhere in my, or any field. Add this to the fact I am working in a basement pub five days a week and it makes for an incredibly unhappy Ellen.

Being a waitress is currently destroying my soul in the least dramatic sounding way possible.

I’ve been working hard to get my blog ready for public consumption, but it seems that nothing I do is ever good enough. There’s always something not quite right that no amount of preparation can fix. Do you ever feel like life is passing you by? I feel like there’s not even any point in putting content out there when it won’t get the reaction I want. I feel as though nothing I do or say is important. 

Perhaps I am feeling overly melancholic as a response to settling into the sober lifestyle once again. Life is slowly coming together. I’m remembering to take plates out of my room and put them into the dishwasher, and regularly going to the supermarket to buy food. I recently got diagnosed with a vitamin D deficiency and an under-active thyroid, so I’m getting used to taking medication every morning too. I even uncovered two actual missing puzzle pieces whilst moving the furniture in my bedroom. 

The constant contents of the washing basket I bragged about overflowing whilst trying to justify alcohol making me into a better, much more fun person is being reduced at a pace slower than I’d like, but one I am comfortable with. Contrary to previous belief, being a mess doesn't make me an exciting character.

Munich I love you, but you're bringing me down.

 Funnily enough, I now love Mondays. Not in the same sense as that jobsite’s advert (you know the one) but because of my gastronomy schedule, Monday is now my Saturday. Monday is when I get to sit and watch new episodes of Twin Peaks and Game of Thrones. Monday is when I get to sift through my new Spotify Discover Weekly playlist. My ears are even graced with a new Russell Brand Show podcast!

My feet are getting itchy, I am eager to take the next step in my life. This is problematic though, as I don’t know to what or to where that might lead me. I know what I want. I repeat these ideas and goals to myself, but I am reluctant to be heard. Too embarrassed of failure, I suppose. The age old cliché states ‘you’ve gotta be in it to win it’ but I am afraid. I cringe when I think of the smug manner in which I address people who question my plans for the future. 

Obviously, I know that the reason the people I admire are successful is due to hard work and perseverance. Outwardly, I kid others and sometimes even myself into thinking I am doing the same, though within I know it’s all hypothetical. Good opportunities do not just fall into the laps of lazy girls regardless of how many loads of laundry they do a week.

Living in Brighton I felt much more connected to the footballing world. Feeling nostalgic for warm summer days of years past.

Recently, my mind has been occupied with the idea of moving back to England. Good, sweet Albion where I will magically rediscover the fire within and write something very, very important every single day. The grass is always greener and it's particularly splendid on the other side of an ocean. Life is okay over here, but I am bored, as always.  

Perhaps I should take it as a positive sign that I know I am unhappy, and use it as fuel to change my life. The idea of starting afresh somewhere new is tedious, but I don't want to return to the ennui of my hometown. I should decide soon, as it seems I'm already going to break my promise to myself to never work another Oktoberfest again.

One day I hope to look back and laugh at the misery of 23 year old me. But for now I'll keep on sulking.


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