October 18th 2017
Today I decided that I invest too much of my life following football. Alice was visiting her friends tonight so I spent my completely free evening watching football on the TV and playing Football Manager on my laptop, whilst reading football opinions on Twitter on my phone. Simultaneously.
It’s a bit much.
And if I really wanted to, I could do it every single night. There’s always some kind of match on. And it’s distracting. There was a time in the not-too-distant past where I didn’t follow football — I’d become disenfranchised with it — but now, it dominates my life in a way that I wish it didn’t. Because, it’s not productive.
But, it invites this weird kind of internal quandry. I enjoy consuming football, in media and video games, and I play football every Tuesday night too. I’m not any good, but I enjoy it. But, as long as you’re enjoying yourself, then that’s alright, right? Is it? Because I enjoy watching football, and that’s alright, right? I enjoy playing Football Manager, and that’s alright, right?
Except all of this is distracting me from all of the stuff that I should be doing.
I’m a fairly ambitious guy. I have dreams of becoming a published author who has his books adapted into screenplays. I want to be editor-at-large of a print magazine with a digital arm. I want to own a coffee shop that I can design to my preference and sit back and let it run itself.
Spending my evenings consuming football isn’t going to help me in the pursuit of those dreams.
What I wish was that I enjoyed writing half as much as I enjoy watching football. You see… I, like any other writer really, enjoy having written, but don’t so much enjoy the writing part. It’s a tense thing, I guess.
The past, ‘written’, is great because it brings with it a sense of accomplishment and achievement. The present — and future — ‘writing’, is daunting and terrifying and other synomyms of scary.
If I completely gave up on following football — which at times I am tempted to do — then I’d have loads more free time than I’d know what to do with. And that’s scary in and of itself, because then I’d probably have to start writing more just to pass the time. I also have an actual magazine that I am actually kinda the editor of, and I videos to edit from a family holiday, and I have so much other stuff that I could be doing but I decided to spend one of my rare completely free evenings sat doing nothing but the consumption of football.
And I enjoyed it.
Until tomorrow, but that’s the problem.