Friday morning. Means something different now to what it used to. Used to be that Friday morning signified the last working day of the week, and more – the eve of the weekend.
Fridays always felt different. For a start the working week has suddenly become finite. You’re on the home stretch, stick at it and soon enough you’ll be sitting in a bar somewhere sucking on a Friday night beer or wine. Woo hoo, just a few hours to go and then party time.
For me at least Friday’s have always had that light-hearted vibe to them. If Mondays are grim then Fridays have a barely contained exuberance. You do your job, and often more efficiently than any other day of the week, but you’re laughing too, sharing a joke, chatting about the weekend plans and looking forward to it.
I love Friday’s.
It’s a bit different in my present circumstances. Everyday is a Friday for me, and everyday a Monday. That’s literally true, but sums it up. I’m never really on duty these days, and never really off either. My activities don’t conform to the weekly calendar but in superficial ways.
Still, I do get some of that Friday vibe even though it’s not the end of the working week for me, even though I’m not heading out for a post-work jar or two tonight, even though I have no particular plans for the weekend. I feel it out of habit.
And guilt too, perhaps. Is that the right word folks? Guilt. Probably not. I don’t get guilty about much. How do I explain it then?
I’m busy through the week. There’s always things I’m either working on or need to attend to. Being busy is different to being productive. A lot of the stuff that keeps me busy midweek is ultimately to no effect. But, I have to keep doing it. I’m aware, however, of how I spend so much time on activities that might make me productive, but don’t – while for most people they spend a productive and well defined week on the job.
I wonder if it would make a difference if I was paid for my wannabe productive activities (which, almost by definition, would thereby make those activities productive). Does income make a difference? Of course it does. It means you have exchanged your time and capability for dollars. It means that market has set a price for you. You have something the market is willing to pay for. As a commodity you have value.
I don’t have that at present. I’m a resilient and mostly confident character. I can overlook that most of the time considering it an aberration, or else an example of the market’s stupidity. There are times you feel it in your moral heart, however. I don’t believe it, but my beliefs count for little in the dumb marketplace. I have capabilities, and for now plenty of time, but as it stands the market deems them to be without value.
This is one of the untold issues about this kind of situation, which hundreds of thousands share. Like it or not we, they, are stocks without value. I’m lucky that I’m arrogant enough to think it’s the fucking market that has no idea. Most don’t have the comfort of that arrogance. It’s difficult for me sometimes; I’m sure it’s demoralising for large swathes of the out of work population.
The weekend comes then and in a way it’s a continuation of the week preceding it, with small alterations. In my case I try and retain my former habits, which means I go about my long established routines. I loosen the reigns a little to. Through the week I’m driven to do things, anything. On the weekend I might take time out to read a book or watch a movie. I’ll eat more, I’m more likely to crack a bottle. And, thankfully, I can respond to my friends for whom the weekend really does mean something – and so I’m more likely to be social, though in a small way.
I’m often wary that in writing of these things and my situation that I might sound like I’m grizzling or in the grip of self-pity. I’m sure I’m prey to that sometimes – but mostly not. Mostly I’ve got a good grip on things. I still have belief, though that may just be another term for my (blessed) arrogance.
There are different types of people. The type I am means I like to understand things. I observe and record, external to myself, and internally too. This is what this blog is all about. I want to put these things down on paper, because they’re true, they happened, and because I’m curious about it.
There’s a lot of social anthropology in this. I hope one day to sit down and read some of these posts and be made to remember that this is what it was really like – in a time and place which is very different to now. And I think it’s good for others to know to, those who care to read.
It’s Friday and I have things to do as well. Maybe because it’s Friday I’m hopeful. It’s all in me.