There was no ignoring. It was so
noticeably out of place that every pair or passing eyes would have been drawn to it. I was just going to the shops. Bread, coffee, batteries. But there it was, the awkward imposing question that every man or woman would prefer to be locked in the dark safety of their minds, not out on the street like that.
Graffiti. There's some graffiti in the underpass that says something like "Think once upon your being and twice upon your soul." This graffiti is one of many; a collection of meaningless pseudo-intellect that comes way down on my interest-
foodchain. The graffiti that says "Neil loves men" is far more interesting.
Today though, more daring graffiti caught my attention. Sprayed on top of a supermarket, looming over the street: "Why Do You Do This Every Single Day?" Then again, on the same wall, about a yard to the right. "Why Do You Do This Every Single Day?".
It sometimes seems like England was doomed to be full of subservient folk.
More so than any other country. We occasionally cast this illusion of freedom, but anything we freely do is monitored and recorded. The 'Nineteen Eighty-Four' analogy is almost pointless now. The comparison seems so... normal. Then there's Guy Fawkes Night; a disturbing British holiday where each year we ask children to
reenact the torture of a 17
th century
conspirator who tried to overthrow the government and the monarchy. Or at least that's my understanding of it, and it's probably a little bit dramatic. But why do we have to burn his effigy? Why does it have to be a celebration? A gentle reminder that rebellion will earn you a dark few pages in the history books and a life time of
vilification.
"Why Do You Do This Every Single Day?" I tried not to think about it. Today is Saturday, I reasoned to myself, and I'm just going to the shops. I don't do this every single day. Of course, Monday will come and I will walk past the supermarket and have to silently answer the question in my head. I tried to ignore it and carry on walking. A few meters down the road it was there again, on the back of a road sign, "Why Do You Do This Every Single Day?" and underneath, on a bollard, "Why?" So I said it under my breath. I go to work every day because this is the system that is set in place for me. Any alternative would be ostracised and ultimately ignored. This is how we function. It is a machine. Hints at anything better and more enjoyable make us feel excited but we look up at Big Brother for approval and he frowns and shakes his head, disappointed.
I decided to walk through the city instead of getting my coffee, bread and batteries. Rather awesomely, it was everywhere. Sprayed on nearly every road at some point. Things like this, could they really change anything? What would it take? Is there any point is reminding people of their perceived bitter "responsibilities" to the company or the country?
I want change, but I offer no alternative. Neither does this unknown and daring graffiti artist. Perhaps it was just to provoke a response. Or to cause people to just take a moment to realise that they don't
have to work; they choose to. Perhaps that's the most depressing thing.
You know, I bet some people look at this graffiti and think to themselves "Because I love what I do." Such is life. I suppose the most important thing is that we all do what we love. There is a lot of honor in running a business or working in an office, and if you enjoy it then surely you are living a good life with purpose and meaning. But the system is already in place for people like that. What about the rest of us? Is it worth constantly swimming against the current for your entire life? In our hearts we would probably all say "Yes, it's worth it. To have not wasted your life doing something you dislike is worth the struggle." But here we are, doing it. Every single day.
