Responsibility?
I recently
read an article on WWW.Imabetterwritterthanyou.com
that presented the following thesis: The amount of responsibility you have in
your life can be determined simply by counting the number of keys in your
pocket. When I read it I thought to myself, ‘Gee what a boring thesis.’
(Just as you are probably thinking ‘Gee, an article on a boring thesis.
How…boring.) I finished reading it, immediately pushed it from my head,
dismissing it as artsy bullshit and drove to Wendy’s for a bacon cheeseburger.
At a
red light for some reason I looked at my keys dangling from the ignition.
“Jesus Christ! I have a ton of keys!” Suddenly the relevance of the afore
mentioned article hit my like a ton of keys. And although I still find the
subject matter boring I think it’s relevance is worth mentioning.
When I
was a little kid, I didn’t have a single key. I didn’t need one. My parents
were home when I got home from school. They were there when I went out to play.
They were there when I got home. This was a very happy time, not because I had
no responsibilities—although I didn’t—but because I had an incredibly
simple lifestyle. Get up, eat, go do my time at school, come home, play, go to
sleep, repeat.
As I
got older though, my parents started giving me more responsibility, and this
came in the form of my first key. This meant that when they were not there, I
was responsible for the house. Again, this was good because it was still a very
easy lifestyle but now I had the free dumb to do come and go as I pleased due to
this key tied around my neck.
Jump
six years of absolute bliss.
My
next keys were matched to a love boat of a car.
I had to pay for gas, insurance, blah blah blah so I had to get a job.
This job (and almost everyone after) came with a set of keys. New apartment? New
keys. New roofrack? New keys. New supermailbox? New keys. New Crap? New keys.
That
brings us up to date. But I submit that the key doesn’t necessarily equal
responsibility. Maybe they just represent how complex our lives have become. All
of a sudden instead of the eat, play, sleep lifestyle you used to love, you wake
up, go get the mail, gas up your car, pay your house/car/life bills, go to work,
slave so all the things you have keys for don’t get repossessed, come home,
clean your house, make dinner, clean your house again, sleep, repeat. If you
wanted to go play, you have to plan it. Did I water the plants? Pay my bills? Oh
shit—Did I remember to lock the door before I left? Did I lock the car? Did I
piss away my life doing meaningless crap never noticing that the moments that
make life worth living didn’t bother to wait for me? No more doing what you
want. You do what you have to.
So
what about me? What have I learned from the dangling testament to how complex my
life is (and my life isn’t that complex, Well… compared to your keychain
anyway.) I’ve learned that we
should all take a page from big business and downsize. I’m tired of being tied
to a set of keys. Time to simplify. You got car keys? Sell your car and buy a
bike/skateboard/bus pass. You got work keys. Quit and get a new job. You’re
worth more than doing someone else’s dirty work. Quit taking shit for Christ
sakes. You have keys to your boyfriend/girlfriends place? Give them back. You
shouldn’t be there if they’re not anyway. You got keys on your chain and you
don’t even remember what their for? Throw those sons of bitches out. Don’t
be scared, you can do it! Back to the ‘wake up, do your time, come home, play,
sleep’ lifestyle. Let’s make a pact. This time next year we go out and play,
with only one key tied around our necks.