I run away from them.
I’m sure it’s a universal thing, our human aversion to responsibilities.
(even as I was drafting this post, having written the first 2 sentences, I went away to look up Stephen Colbert, Neil deGrasse Tyson, and Carl Sagan, and then linked my way to a wiki page for the late Mr. Adams’ The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy)
There’s a concept I have been toying with lately: undying ideals. There are just certain… ideas, or concepts, that never dies. It’s like Mr. Gaiman’s introduction to The Endless:
“There are seven beings that exists because, deep in our hearts, we know that they exist.”
It’s at the heart of A Song For The Rain: ideas, such as greed, nobility, courage, determination… They don’t fade away. They don’t die. They stick with us and they evolve with society, and they will be around until the last person dies because, in essence, they define what it means to be human.
(one day I will get together with some brilliant minds and hands, and we’ll create a pantheon for them on paper… one day)
If I personified responsibility, I’d imagine it as the Implacable Man, the soul of determination. You can try to run, you can try to hide, and you’ll be safe for a little while… But just when you thought you’ve successfully ran away, he appears with a machete in his hands and a hockey mask over his face. He raises the machete–
You get what I mean.
(someone on Tumblr mentioned that this must be how animals saw the endurance hunters… Just when they thought they’ve gotten far enough away, there comes the man again – never running, never in a hurry, but always, always getting closer)
I woke up today with a terrible pressure at the output end of my body’s plumbing system and an even worse pain in the space that links my tummy with my abdomen. With a completely legit excuse to put off work, what was a man to do? I did practically nothing all day but play Skyrim, eat, and sleep.
Yes, I didn’t drink. It was why I woke up at 6P.M. with a squeezing pain around my crown.
But as the minutes tick away to midnight, the Implacable Man named responsibility has found me, and it has found me cornered. There is no running away anymore, not unless I’d like to taste the steel of his blade, named Consequences. There are 2,000 words to be written for A Song For The Rain. There is a foreword to edit. There are articles I need to review. There are things to be written.
Hell, I even need to update to iOS 7.1.1.
(and now it’s telling me it needs at least 50% battery health to run the update. Come on, iPhone, stop being such a princessy brat!)
As I end the post here, this is only but the first item crossed off my list of responsibilities. I can feel the cold steel of Consequences upon the nape of my neck, and I must hurry if I wish to escape its deadly sting.