JacobHDailyEffort

Fantasy football rears its ambiguous head once again as the international break draws to an end. My relationship to it is complex; there are positives: - I’m good at it - It keeps my brain engaged (somewhat) - I don’t find it boring - I enjoy the content creators (again, somewhat) But on the other hand when the game isn’t active, I slowly begin to remember the other things I like and used to enjoy more frequently, before my fantasy football pre-occupation escalated. Although I don’t find it boring, I’m not entirely sure what my emotional response to it is. There are few moments of pure joy. Although there are few moments of pure joy with anything I like so maybe that isn’t fair. Consistent interest perhaps? That is probably it. Plus, it keeps my relationship with football alive and without that the structure of my weekend is thrown into disarray. On my waning interest in football - I have always been aware that football is inherently unfair – the rich teams will win more often. Simple....

In my living room stands a stupidly oversized framed poster of Jeremy Corbyn. Obstinately clinging to vain hopes of what could have been, it is my slightly desperate, meagre attempt of showing that I am and always will be left wing. But as time goes by, I'm finding there are an increasing number of accompanying qualifiers and caveats attached when stating my allegiance. To some extent I've always thought the left can be its own worst enemy at times, pushing away our own by competitively shaming those who don't meet the required standards for membership of this intellectually elitist club. With a culture of inducing persistent anxiety for fear of saying the wrong thing or even for just asking questions, the left doesn't have the most alluring incentives to draw support. And now, just to make matters worse, a particularly annoying wave of condescending, superior and sarcastic millennials also dominate this space, injecting a new level of disparate division into the esoter...

Everybody agree with me. Only tyrannical rule will fully stabilise my mental health, so it would actually be quite insensitive to not allow me it in this day and age. Also, everybody has to actually mean it when they agree with me - Suspicion of fearful sycophants is no way to reign supreme. Don't just agree with everything I say - " I wouldn't want to belong to a club that would have me as a member". Plus I'm probably wrong anyway, what do I know? Why would I know best? But also, everyone else is an idiot!! But they're not are they. I'm the real idiot for thinking that in the first place. But.. WAIT... NO. I AM RIGHT!!! DNIUEDHEIUDGKWNSNSWYDGBIUWBIUBINKKZZ!!!!!! The endless internal battle of the contrary narcissist. Or does self-awareness counteract narcissism? Dunno. At least that paragraph shows that even omnipotence wouldn't satisfy. So I won't pursue totalitarianism. That's one thing sorted! Progress. In reality, all I really need is the ...

I wear my heart in my socks. In my life there has been the odd occasion where I’ve accidentally been too nice to someone and created an unwelcome one-way bond. As a generally avoidant person, there typically then comes an awkward, drawn-out period of having to employ a long-term passive tactic of mild disinterest. I’m too conflict-averse to deliver an immediate shirk so I must employ preventative shirking measures. For anyone who is avoidant, I would heavily advocate being aloof. Taciturn. Reticent. Cold. Don’t go too far and become a brooding and mysterious enigma - this may have the opposite to the desired effect. If someone starts to become too familiar within the first couple of months of knowing them, maybe smile less. Cut conversations short. Put your earphones in. It’s easier being slightly rude early doors than it is forming too close a relationship and then realising you want out. You will always be the bad guy in that scenario, despite it usually being their fault for being ...

For a predominantly lazy person, I have a surprisingly strong disposition to tackle daily mundanity in the most efficient way possible, enabling me to move quickly onto the next rushed and unimportant chapter. For example, I'm aware of the mental health benefits of regularly adapting the route of my walk to work to increase sensory variety. But my unwavering over-awareness of the most efficient route means I just cannot bring myself to deviate from a walk which includes a predominantly grey urban environment alongside busy main roads and involves getting muddy on rainy days hobbling through desire paths. At least this self-insistence makes some level of sense on the way to work - The sooner I clock in, the sooner I finish. What makes less sense is that I also apply this to the way back from work, determined to make it back for 4pm only to find myself sitting at home wondering what to do with myself. What continues to defy logic is that I apply this thought-process to all aspects of...

"You should never go to them, let them come to you" - I Don't Owe You Anything A newly adopted mantra, courtesy of Morrissey. Because I'm always busy. Busy, busy. (A niche reference but nobody is reading this so who cares?) Recently my therapist noticed that a lot of my stress and anxiety stems from factors outside of my control, whether that be football, society, politics, or plans filling up my calendar to the point where my phone calendar is more in control of my life than I am. I fall wearied through a pre-destined fate, somewhat perplexed as to where all these plans came from. They can't be particularly interesting either as I usually can't remember why I've been so busy. From now on, I will only arrange plans when I absolutely want to. Being considerate relinquishes autonomy. And as a 'phone reminder junkie', I need to find ways to reduce the amount of times my phone commands me through every aspect of my life. "Remind 'so and so...

Am I in a lull or a rut? I'm optimistically leaning towards lull. Partly my fault, partly the fault of my reliance on others for creative projects. But that isn't their fault. So the part of the fault which is part-fault is partly my fault.  And with me being to blame, I should probably try to actually do something about it. I've heard that forcing yourself to write something daily, anything, no matter how short, or shit, is a useful strategy. So finally, after a long period of procrastination, I follow in the shadow of Richard Herring, Adam Buxton and my ex uncle-in-law. Due to logistical and technological shortcomings too dull to bother explaining, I crouch cross-legged on my bed over a loud, growling laptop, which vehemently makes clear that it does not appreciate ever being disturbed. And for the thousandth time I consider when would be most financially prudent to extricate myself from this passive-aggressive dynamic. As I posture my posture (HAHAHAHAHA!!!), I realise t...