Wasting Time, Searching for Meaning, and Finding Shits

It feels kind of strange. You work at a job to make money and earn your freedom, but then you don't know what to do with your free time. So you end up at this meetup event on a Saturday morning, where you practically work for free.

It's not that I don't have things to do and feel bored. I have things to do, but I don't want to do them, or I'm postponing them. So maybe, even to distract myself from the fact that I have things to do, I went there. I also wanted to have something to do other than the things I have to do. Yeah, maybe.

Before going, I checked the list of attendees to make sure there were people I would be interested in meeting. Just to ensure I didn't end up at the meeting point alone, I even posted on the discussion page, asking if anyone else was going to be there. To my surprise, someone replied “yes” to my message. So, I thought it couldn't be that bad.

I woke up at 8 to be there on time. I had my coffee and breakfast and then left for the Luas. On the Luas, I read the book about psychology that I started last week. I texted the same girl who said she would be there too, asking if she was still joining the event. She said yes. I was feeling alright. It was a nice morning, warm—even hot—for Dublin. Maybe, I thought, things would be nicer today.

I got off the Luas at O'Connell GP and started walking to the meeting point. It took almost 20 minutes to get there. Then the girl who was supposed to be there texted me, saying she forgot her Leap card and was walking to the meeting point, so she would be a bit late. I said it was okay—maybe there would be other people there. So, I started searching for the meetup point. It wasn't far from the Newcomen Bridge, where I stood for some time because I thought that was the meeting spot.

When I arrived at the correct spot, I saw some people already working, but something seemed off. I couldn't see any happy European/Caucasian faces enjoying the free labor they provide while socializing. I saw some frustrated faces of people who knew each other for some time, and they didn't seem happy—they were there to work, I felt. I said hello, but no one replied. Everyone seemed very focused on what they were doing. So, I went to the only lady who seemed a bit happy and looked like she was the organizer or some kind of manager. I asked her if this was the meetup point. She said yes, this was the place for the canal cleanup, and she gave me a short introduction, a pair of gloves, and a litter picker. She said we would be moving in 5-10 minutes and were waiting for some other people to join. While waiting, she asked me to help the folks who were already cleaning. One was using a long picker to take stuff from the canal, and another guy was putting the litter in his plastic bag. I joined them and started doing the same thing.

After 5 or 10 minutes, the same lady said it was time to walk. I didn't really understand what we were going to do, but they told me to follow a guy, so I did. One guy was carrying a wheelbarrow with more plastic bags in it, while others were just carrying their pickers, and no one was talking. I joined them. Then we started walking along the canal—me and six other bored and stupid-looking males. I was probably the stupidest one there because they were probably there to receive welfare money, while I was there to kill time and my loneliness with some friends who didn't exist.

As we were crossing the road, I saw the girl who had texted me. At least there was another stupid, educated person who doesn't know how to spend her Saturday morning, just like me. The girl crossed the group, and I think she went to talk with the manager. I kept walking with the crew. At least the job was simple (though I didn't get paid for it): walk along the canal, put the trash you see into the plastic bag, and keep moving.

I found many empty alcohol bottles, some cans, and coffee cups. Then I saw some small blue plastic bags that were tied. I put them in my plastic bag, and from the smell, I realized they were actually feces. So, they were either dog poop bags or, worse, people who had shat in plastic bags, tied them, and thrown them away. That was when I started questioning what the hell I was doing there.

I was working five days a week, paying ridiculously high taxes, and still wasn't able to find a better way to spend my Saturday other than providing free labor and tidying up a mess I hadn't created with a group of people who probably didn't want to talk to me and likely didn't understand why the hell I was there either. But this is a very common thing, I guess. Many people don't know how to spend their free time, which is why we smoke, do drugs, spend time on apps just to stalk other people's lives, go on vacation, and visit "x" number of countries in "y" days.

Then I thought, okay, you're already here—try to get something out of it and focus on something other than the crap you see on your way. But what can you think about when you're picking up crap off the ground? I saw some people passing by, and they smiled and asked how I was. They seemed to appreciate what we were doing. I thought, of course, they appreciate it—that's how you keep a fool working for free, by paying them with appreciation and some dog poop (or human poop).

Then I realized that what we were doing wouldn't solve anything. We would come back in a month, and there would be garbage and crap all over the place again. Some person, so sad or depressed that they don't care about the environment or the world, would drink and throw their bottle or poop in the corner. If we want to solve the pollution problem, I thought, we need to address the small, stupid issues that make people depressed or completely mad. It's cliché, but we really need people to love something if we want to make the world a better place. It might be another person, an animal, chess, sports, or even themselves, if possible.

We kept walking, and I kept picking up more crap and thinking. Then it got a bit boring, and I said, "Fuck this; I'm not going to do this anymore." I didn't have to stay there, but it was kind of hard to quit. I felt reluctant to tell the guy next to me, "Hey, I'm leaving—where can I put my stuff?" I imagined him saying, "Hey, where do you think you're going? You can't leave; we won't let you." Then I thought, what would I do? Get into a fistfight with them? Scream for help? Run? Then I imagined being a captive in this cleanup gang, cleaning the canal for the rest of my life—all the while, others would think I was there working happily, but I was actually being held captive.

Fortunately, I didn't need to let my imagination wander that long because I saw the manager lady approaching from a distance. We were done; we just needed to put the trash bags right across the road, where the city trash collection organization (whatever it's called) would pick them up. So that's what we did—we crossed the road and put our stuff there.

Then I saw a guy similar to me. He had a band T-shirt, though I didn't recognize the band, but it made me feel closer to him immediately. We started talking about music. He was into technical death metal and told me about many new bands I didn't know. I'm more into heavy metal and old bands (I had a Motörhead T-shirt on). Like most people I meet in Dublin, he wasn't Irish—he was from Eastern Europe, working in a lab. Though I don't remember what he was actually doing in the lab, it was interesting.

Afterward, it was time to return to where we started to leave our stuff—gloves, litter pickers, and volunteer vests. While walking back, we had a chat with the organizer, and I asked how long she had been doing this. She said eight years. I asked if the littering problem had gotten any better in those eight years, and she said no. Just as I had thought—you can clean as many bottles as you like, but there will be ten more the next day. But if it makes you feel better, I think you have the right to collect as many bottles as possible, and it's still better than causing problems for others.

On our way, I met the girl as well. Her name was Jordan, and she was from Germany. She was 26, living with her boyfriend, and trying to save money for travel. Nothing new or interesting, I thought.

After we left our stuff at the starting zone, we started heading to the city center—me, Jordan, and Max. I don't remember the details of our conversation, but in the end, I left them to meet another friend. Before leaving, Jordan asked if we should exchange numbers, and we did. Though I couldn't see much sense in doing so, I did it because my therapist told me to learn to be friends with women as well, so it was alright.

Then I took the Luas, got off at Charlemont, walked along the canal a bit, and met my friend. I was a bit hungry, and he hadn't had breakfast yet. So we went to a small restaurant nearby and had brunch. He told me about the girl he met when he visited Turkey. She said she was in love with him, and he showed me her messages and photo. She was cute, and the messages were sweet. I couldn't tell him that I was seeing a married woman, that we said we loved each other. So, I just listened while he talked most of the time. The weather was really good, so we decided to buy a cup of coffee and go to a nearby park.

There was a nice-looking lady at the park sitting alone who got our attention, drinking coffee from the same shop we bought ours. My friend and I joked about the possibility of walking over and talking to her, which he didn't do. But it was still fun to joke about the different outcomes of approaching her.

After that, I came home, turned on my PC, and wrote this. All in all, it was a nice day.