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 Happy to Hang Around
"I'm tired of everything," he mumbled while climbing the stairs to reach his home. Normally, blaming apathetic people or his extremely boring work environment consumes him. But this time, maybe for the first time in his whole life, he was listening to his own voice. As he thought about this shocking fact, he missed a footing, but his reflexes kicked in and saved him from a serious fall. "I'm a lucky guy," he whispered to himself. "What if I had fallen down the stairs?" Then, as he realized that he was talking to himself, he became embarrassed.
He finally came to his door. When he took out his keys to unlock it, he was frightened to notice that the door was already half-open. His monotonous life was not used to such extreme events. He tried to calm down, opening the door with a soft knock. He felt awful, though not from fear. It was the idea that if a thief had entered, he would not be able to live in his house again. He just could not imagine a stranger wandering through, touching his personal belongings. "I have to be cautious! What if he is still here? What about all of my things?" He began to search each and every room. There was nothing unusual. His laptop was on the table with all of his cables neatly grouped beside it. His cell phone was in the cloakroom. He breathed a sigh of relief. Nobody seemed to realize his door was open. He must have left it open himself that morning. "I'm a lucky guy!" he thought, as he slumped down on to his couch. This was the second time he thought about his luck. "Do I owe my survival to luck?" It was a "what if" question, of course, but he wasn't in the mood for questions that he could never answer.
"Maybe I shouldn't read philosophy for a while." he thought, but wasn't sure if that would stop him from thinking so much. Suddenly, the urge hit him to do something fun. Maybe this would help give him a break from his thoughts. He grabbed the remote control for his music player and pressed the play button, but no matter how hard he pressed, it wouldn't work. The batteries were dead. He got up from his spot, took one of his favorite CDs, put it into the stereo and turned it on. As the music began to flow, the answers to his questions started to come. Of course! It was "luck" that caused the batteries to go dead so he would have to get up and get his body moving, even though he didn't have the energy. It was out of "luck" that no one had entered his home. But, in the end, it taught him a lesson. It was important to be cautious and pay attention to detail and not leave his door open in the future. It was "luck" once again that rescued him from a fall, and, in doing so, helped him improve his reflexes. How much of his life was guided by luck? How much of his life was he really in control of? By answering these, would he have a better understanding of who he was?
The thoughts began to melt from his mind as he drifted off to sleep, the lyrics to the music on the stereo fading away
"And I'll never get into your heart,
Though I don't even want to start,
I'll never get into your heart,
I'm just happy to hang around..."
Özlem Erdem (IE/IV)
oerdem@ug.bilkent.edu.tr
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