Rachel Killington has had some enforced time off from the radio station. Many happy returns? Do you ever sit down and think that maybe you expect too much from life?
My forthcoming 25th birthday celebrations have not quite gone to plan. I wanted a party (a surprise one really). I wanted all my friends and family there, with mountains of presents, pink champagne and a cheese and pineapple hedgehog (classy I know). Instead I’m in bed recovering from an operation (my specialist said I’d suffer ‘substantial discomfort’, but failed to inform me that ‘discomfort’ is actually a medical codeword that actually means ‘acute agony’). Hopefully I’ll feel better before the impending big day, but alas, the party plans (along with all my birthday dreams) have all but been shattered. Ninety-nine per cent of my friends are unavailable, which means that the party would look decidedly empty, and the envisaged ‘present mountain’ little more than a molehill. Neil has tried to console me by suggesting we just have drinks in the city, but I wanted my quarter-century birthday to be special, as it’s the last ‘big’ birthday I’ll have before I’m 30. My housemate reminded me that almost every year I end up crying as my birthday hasn’t been the exquisite celebration I’d hoped for, which got me thinking. Do I expect too much from life? Does anybody really have the perfect fairytale existence? The Everything TreeI spent a large proportion of my childhood with my head buried in a book. Opening a book was, for me, akin to stepping through the wardrobe door into Narnia (something that I never actually managed to do, despite closing my eyes and wishing very hard). I visited strange and foreign lands, fought dragons and ran away from trolls, and had tea parties with life sized rabbits. Not only did I read a lot of books, but I spent many blissful afternoons writing my own stories, and often re-enacted these in with my best friend Hannah, who had an imagination almost as vivid and inspired as my own. We had an ‘Everything Tree’ in the corner of the school playground, which (after inserting a certain amount of ‘magic coins’) would instantly grow anything your heart desired. We travelled everywhere in a life-sized ‘magic snail’ and Hannah had a hedgehog (Herbie) as a pet. Just simple childhood dreams? Maybe. Problem is that I don’t think I ever really grew up… Fast forward twenty years and you’ll see that same little girl- only this time she’s older, wiser and maybe tinged with a certain amount of cynicism, but the fundamental principles survive. I love all things pink and fluffy. I’m desperate to visit Disneyland. I adore Jane Austen novels and romantic films and I dream of a big white wedding. I’m not so blinkered that I actually believe that life is always like a fairytale, but I do trust that life is what you make it, and I’m determined to do the best I can. But is it always good to have such high expectations? Can these expectations sometimes actually work against you, so that they make you more miserable in the long run? Paul, TV high-flyerBecause I haven’t progressed in my career as much as I’d hoped in the last three years, I find it easy to get downhearted. I recently heard from Paul, an old college friend who skipped the university stage, and went into the television industry after he finished his HND. At the time I thought he was mad (and if I’m honest-somewhat lazy) to not want to continue to get a degree, and I dutifully went off, got my qualifications, then returned a year later, to start my career in television as he had done 15 months previously. Unfortunately for me, after only four months the company moved the show to Manchester, and as I was still just a production runner with my foot on the first rung of the ladder at the time, I wasn’t keen to move away because I believed I couldn’t feasibly afford to live on my wages. And so ended my television career. Although I’m thrilled to hear Paul is now a senior post production co-ordinator and has just bought his first house, I must admit to feeling pangs of resentment and jealousy when I see his name on the credits of particular television programmes. There will always be the ‘what ifs’ - what if I’d been happy to just go into a job at 20 instead of carrying on to university? What if I’d been more willing to relocate like he was, instead of thinking I couldn’t leave my family? What if I’d gone straight into the television industry instead of getting more work experience? What if… Websites such as Friends Reunited only serve to exacerbate the situation. For me, the class of 1998 can roughly be split into two halves- those that wanted to ‘make something of themselves’ and focussed on their career, and those that were just content to stay in their hometown with a 9-5 job, a council flat and 2.4 children. It amazes me to realise that often it’s those that didn’t have any expectations that seem the happiest in their everyday lives, and has led me to believe that taking each day as it comes is the way forward in life. Here and nowI don’t really have much to complain about. I don’t earn an awful lot which does hamper any future plans somewhat. I can’t get my own place (a thing that I’m desperate to do), I can’t go on exotic holidays or buy a new car, even though I really need one. But really, it is my choice. If I wanted to, I know I could change all that. I could get myself a different job- one that pays far more and has greater stability. But would I be happy? I don’t think so. I love my job, and though it isn’t perfect, on the whole I don’t suffer from ‘back to work blues’ like most people, and I don’t live solely for the weekend. Yes I do want to progress my career further. But I realise that will take time. A lot of time. So maybe what I need to do is concentrate on the ‘here and now’- on the everyday, and push those childhood dreams and aspirations to one side. Maybe life isn’t like a Marks and Spencer advert- hazy sunshine, beautiful scenery and people, with Itchycoo Park by the Small Faces playing in the background. Maybe my big day won’t rival Elton’s forthcoming 60th birthday celebrations. Maybe my ‘prince’ won’t get down on bended knee, rose between his teeth, to declare his undying love to me with the sun setting in the background. But then again would these things really make me happy? See Rachel's previous job logs: | 
