Evening all!
Respect is a curious virtue for a society, as it is something that has always played a fundamental role in society, especially religion. In fact, respect is so important in religion that the Fifth Commandment orders one to ‘honour thy mother and father’. However, all you need to do is have a quick look at some of today’s youth to see that this commandment has been rather ruthlessly ignored, not just regarding parents, but regarding the general public. Thieving. Fraud. Abuse. These are all examples of people having no respect for others. And it’s damaging.
Not to blow my own trumpet or anything, but I like to consider myself a pretty respectful person. I always appreciate the actions of everyone around me, especially my parents. I frown upon people being punched. I don’t swear at people, only with people. I like to hope that if I treat people with respect and courtesy, then I will receive the same in return.
However, there are two things that I don’t seem to treat with much respect, and they are 1) silly comments about Israel and the Middle East and 2) schoolbags. It is the less rational of these two that I want to focus on in this post.
I have no idea why I seem to treat my bags with such hatred and contempt, but every bag I have seems to end up torn, or with a broken zip, or smothered in enough duct tape to hold together a bridge. The strap on my most recent fatality came so close to being ripped apart, that I was running around school looking for safety pins. First the art department (where only the week before I had ventured in asking for super glue to stick my thumb nail back on right before a guitar recital). Then the physics department (where I actually found the super glue for my thumb nail). In the end, I ended up at the door of the nurse’s office asking for sufficient safety pins to mend my poorly bag. It was a surreal moment for everybody there. Especially for the bag.
So last Friday, I ended up in another situation involving me wondering around Sports Direct in Manchester searching for a bag for less than £15, which was a secure as Alcatraz Prison. As I wondered aimlessly around the store, I liked to imagine all the bags on their hooks begging “No! Not Daniel! Anybody but Daniel! That’s practically a death sentence! He bought my mate Brian just a few months ago, and look what’s happened to him!”
It isn’t that I genuinely hate schoolbags. In fact, I love them. They’re brilliant! They save me from the awkward situation of having to carry round all my books and papers under my arm, and for that I will always be grateful. It’s exactly like the heartbreaking story of Lennie and his rabbits in Of Mice and Men. Lennie just wanted to “tend d’em rabbits”, but he will continually underestimate his immense strength and end up squeezing the rabbits to an untimely end.
I guess the one key difference is that it’s hard for me to underestimate my immense strength when I have won so few arm wrestles…
Anyway, I did end up buying a new schoolbag, as the girl at the checkout eyed it affectionately, as it to say “May the odds be ever in your favour”, or something equally demoralising. It’s pretty standard, except the straps are basically bolted on, so I hope there’s a limited chance of it breaking (though when I own the bag, there’s no telling the extent of the damage). It’s currently in the corner of my room about to cry itself to sleep after the first day of its sentence, in which I had Chemistry and Mechanics. So it got off pretty lightly today…
Anyway, I just wanted to inform you guys of my new bag’s first day at school. I haven’t named, and probably won’t ever, because naming bags is a bit of a ridiculous idea (says the guy who named his classical guitar…). Regardless, if any of you think of a good name for the new addition to my graveyard of schoolbags bag collection, please comment below, and maybe we will all have a cheap laugh.
Is there a better kind of laugh?
My Factless Autobiography 