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Mar. 8th, 2010 08:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stormdogI've watched Office Space a couple times recently. Once, a couple weeks back, with my mom (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
farm_cat), Moira, and akreaveter. I knew my mother would appreciate it, being a veteran of years of office work. Then, while I was with Posicat and Mallory on Saturday evening, Posi suggested it and I watched it again with the three of us.
The director said, in some commentary somewhere, that he'd been told by people that watching the movie had made them quit their jobs. I can understand that. My situation is so much like the one Peter is in. He's worse off, certainly; I don't feel like every day is the worst day of my life. I have a wonderful partner who I live with and who makes me happy (and doesn't cheat on me [by which I mean, of course, that when she's involved with anybody else it's with my full awareness and approval]!), and I have activities and interests outside work. If I didn't have to work, I certainly wouldn't be doing nothing. I'd be taking classes, taking pictures, taking trips.
But regardless, I relate to the situation. I work a job that is, ultimately, not meaningful or fulfilling. I don't build or make anything. I don't, really, accomplish much of anything.
Then, last night, I watched Working, and that resonated with me too. Mostly, Working is about people who work with their hands, their bodies. Textile workers, masons, cleaning staff. One of the last pieces of song in the musical is about how you want to have something you've accomplished in life. Something to point to and say I did that. I made that. My work certainly doesn't give me that.
Photography is sommething like that for me. I make images of places that may not be around in a year, or a decade, or a century from now. At the heart of it, I want to share the experience of the places I visit with those who can't go climbing around ruins themselves, or who live after those ruins are gone. Seeing ruined and decaying buildings has changed the way I think about society and civilization, and I want to share that experience. Everything seems transitive; everything changes all the time. I want to see and share those states of being. At it's highest, that's what my pictures are intended to accomplish.
As I've travelled lately, taking photographic road trips and visiting friends, I've realized too that what really makes a place, a building, a city, is context. The context of the people who live in a place. I've been more and more interested in people as I see more of the world. I want to know about how people live and what life is like for them. I want to understand why people feel and think the way they do. There's so little understanding of other people in the world, and so many different ways to exist.
My problem is that I want to do everything. Live everywhere. Understand everyone. I want to live in a riverfront condo in downtown Chicago, and in a tiny heatless apartment in upper Manhattan, and in a hundred and fifty year old farmhouse in the fields of Iowa or southern Illinois, and in a little cottage in the woods in Copper Harbor, Michigan, and in a pleasant little two-story row house in Centralia, Pennsylvania, propped up with I-beams when its neighbors were torn down because the mine-fire below, sinking hills into valleys and belching smoke through cracks in the streets, forced all the less hardy neighbors to leave.
The staggering variety of human experience fascinates me. I want to experience all of it. Of course, I can't. All I can really do is travel and see other people living. And even better than that would be to travel and talk to people. If I could talk to the people about their own lives and experiences and cities, I might live a little of their lives second-hand.
Even before I saw Working, when I talked to my grandfather about Studs Terkel and read about him and his work, I thought how much I'd love to do something like that. How much I'd love to talk to such a variety of people and learn a little something about their lives. But I've believed that I'm not good enough with people to do something like that. That I could never just sit and talk with a strange, asking them personal questions with a tape recorder sitting on the table.
But maybe I could. It's not that I'm bad with people, necessarily. I'm bad with faces, sure, but I'd likely only be seeing most folks once and I wouldn't have to remember faces. I'm bad with groups, but I'd really be talking to people one at a time, one on one. And I'm actually not too terrible at that, and I bet I could get better. I do like to meet new people. And if there's an existing structure within which to interact with them, that makes it easier.
I talked to Grandpa, after the show, about how neat the work that Studs did is, and how much I'd like to do something like that. He told me that I ought to do it then! Maybe he's right. And maybe I will.
Talking to a stranger in public is breaking some kind of social rule. And that reminds me of the talk that grandpa and I had at while we were having lunch after the car museum last week. He took his shoes off in the restaurant, and I said that I like to be barefoot all the time too. I monologued a bit about how sneaking into abandoned buildings has lead me to think about the artificial nature of rules, and how fragile and readily disregarded social constructs like that really are. He listened until I was done and said "So basically your attitude is 'screw it'!"
I laughed and agreed. He said "That comes with age, too."
So screw it. Why shouldn't I just talk to people? I think I'm going to try it at least. I'm going to get a little digital voice recorder on Ebay and start with people I know. Moira, my family, my friends. Because my interest was first in buildings and structures, then cities, I think that's what I'll ask about. Where do you live now and why? what do you like about it? what don't you like? What's the best part or best thing? Where did you live before? Why did you move? How far from where you grew up are you? If your city was a person, what would he or she be like? Do you work where you live? How far away do you work and how do you get there? What's that like? Do you listen to the radio on the way, or read, or write? Do you know the people in your community, or are your neighbors strangers? Do you know your city? Do you feel connected to it? Are there any special events, like Milk Days in Harvard, Illinois, or Pierogifest in Whiting, Indiana, that define your city?
As I said, I'll start locally at first, but I was lying in bad last night, too excited to sleep as I thought about going out to various town parks, or local festivals, and sitting down with a sign that says something like "I'm writing a book! Ask me how you can help!" A book...I guess that's how I'd have to share the experiences I learn about. The idea kept getting bigger as I jumped out of bed a couple times to jot down notes about what I'd ask people. I don't know whether I'll ever get to that stage, but it's fun to think about.
And on top of, or in addition to, or in synergy with, that, I need to travel. I need to see more of the world.
I talked to my mom a bit about that after the show. About the wide variety of human experience and how I want to see it. Cities and places and ways of life. She said it sounds like I want to go walkabout. That's probably a good way to put it.
I talked to Moira about it last night too. What I said was that I've realized that everything in the world is impermanent. The only things that really matter are people. Making yourself happy, and making the people you care about happy. And that, in the Buddhist ideal, you care about everyone. Life is too short and the world is too big for me not to see as much of it, and meet as many of its residents, as I can. I want to take six months or a year at some point and just travel. I think I could do it really cheaply. In fact, I'd probably go wherever I could find someone willing to put me up. I'd sign up on couchsurfing.org and stay with interesting strangers and make new friends. Maybe I'd even try sleeping under the stars in California or Florida. If I'm doing city interviews at that point, I could interview my hosts and people in the cities I visit. And I should do it while I'm still young enough that I don't have any health issues to worry about.
Amazingly, Moira wasn't paniced by this idea. If circumstances were right, and I saved up some money first, she could be okay with it. How about that? I'm going to have to figure out how much money I could reasonably get by on. I'm also thinking about doing some couch-surfing ventures locally. Maybe I can find somebody to stay with in Milwaukee, just for a weekend, and wander the city and see what this is like.
So...that's kind of where my brain is as I ride the train in to work this first day back from my week of vacation. The time off was better for me than I could have imagined, and exceedingly well timed. I really needed it. I'm back, more ready to work, have better goals in mind, and am much less likely to go postal.
I have a ton more to write about. Primarily, how I spent the weekend and Moira and my upcoming move. But that'll wait until next post.
I love you all!!
farm_cat), Moira, and akreaveter. I knew my mother would appreciate it, being a veteran of years of office work. Then, while I was with Posicat and Mallory on Saturday evening, Posi suggested it and I watched it again with the three of us.The director said, in some commentary somewhere, that he'd been told by people that watching the movie had made them quit their jobs. I can understand that. My situation is so much like the one Peter is in. He's worse off, certainly; I don't feel like every day is the worst day of my life. I have a wonderful partner who I live with and who makes me happy (and doesn't cheat on me [by which I mean, of course, that when she's involved with anybody else it's with my full awareness and approval]!), and I have activities and interests outside work. If I didn't have to work, I certainly wouldn't be doing nothing. I'd be taking classes, taking pictures, taking trips.
But regardless, I relate to the situation. I work a job that is, ultimately, not meaningful or fulfilling. I don't build or make anything. I don't, really, accomplish much of anything.
Then, last night, I watched Working, and that resonated with me too. Mostly, Working is about people who work with their hands, their bodies. Textile workers, masons, cleaning staff. One of the last pieces of song in the musical is about how you want to have something you've accomplished in life. Something to point to and say I did that. I made that. My work certainly doesn't give me that.
Photography is sommething like that for me. I make images of places that may not be around in a year, or a decade, or a century from now. At the heart of it, I want to share the experience of the places I visit with those who can't go climbing around ruins themselves, or who live after those ruins are gone. Seeing ruined and decaying buildings has changed the way I think about society and civilization, and I want to share that experience. Everything seems transitive; everything changes all the time. I want to see and share those states of being. At it's highest, that's what my pictures are intended to accomplish.
As I've travelled lately, taking photographic road trips and visiting friends, I've realized too that what really makes a place, a building, a city, is context. The context of the people who live in a place. I've been more and more interested in people as I see more of the world. I want to know about how people live and what life is like for them. I want to understand why people feel and think the way they do. There's so little understanding of other people in the world, and so many different ways to exist.
My problem is that I want to do everything. Live everywhere. Understand everyone. I want to live in a riverfront condo in downtown Chicago, and in a tiny heatless apartment in upper Manhattan, and in a hundred and fifty year old farmhouse in the fields of Iowa or southern Illinois, and in a little cottage in the woods in Copper Harbor, Michigan, and in a pleasant little two-story row house in Centralia, Pennsylvania, propped up with I-beams when its neighbors were torn down because the mine-fire below, sinking hills into valleys and belching smoke through cracks in the streets, forced all the less hardy neighbors to leave.
The staggering variety of human experience fascinates me. I want to experience all of it. Of course, I can't. All I can really do is travel and see other people living. And even better than that would be to travel and talk to people. If I could talk to the people about their own lives and experiences and cities, I might live a little of their lives second-hand.
Even before I saw Working, when I talked to my grandfather about Studs Terkel and read about him and his work, I thought how much I'd love to do something like that. How much I'd love to talk to such a variety of people and learn a little something about their lives. But I've believed that I'm not good enough with people to do something like that. That I could never just sit and talk with a strange, asking them personal questions with a tape recorder sitting on the table.
But maybe I could. It's not that I'm bad with people, necessarily. I'm bad with faces, sure, but I'd likely only be seeing most folks once and I wouldn't have to remember faces. I'm bad with groups, but I'd really be talking to people one at a time, one on one. And I'm actually not too terrible at that, and I bet I could get better. I do like to meet new people. And if there's an existing structure within which to interact with them, that makes it easier.
I talked to Grandpa, after the show, about how neat the work that Studs did is, and how much I'd like to do something like that. He told me that I ought to do it then! Maybe he's right. And maybe I will.
Talking to a stranger in public is breaking some kind of social rule. And that reminds me of the talk that grandpa and I had at while we were having lunch after the car museum last week. He took his shoes off in the restaurant, and I said that I like to be barefoot all the time too. I monologued a bit about how sneaking into abandoned buildings has lead me to think about the artificial nature of rules, and how fragile and readily disregarded social constructs like that really are. He listened until I was done and said "So basically your attitude is 'screw it'!"
I laughed and agreed. He said "That comes with age, too."
So screw it. Why shouldn't I just talk to people? I think I'm going to try it at least. I'm going to get a little digital voice recorder on Ebay and start with people I know. Moira, my family, my friends. Because my interest was first in buildings and structures, then cities, I think that's what I'll ask about. Where do you live now and why? what do you like about it? what don't you like? What's the best part or best thing? Where did you live before? Why did you move? How far from where you grew up are you? If your city was a person, what would he or she be like? Do you work where you live? How far away do you work and how do you get there? What's that like? Do you listen to the radio on the way, or read, or write? Do you know the people in your community, or are your neighbors strangers? Do you know your city? Do you feel connected to it? Are there any special events, like Milk Days in Harvard, Illinois, or Pierogifest in Whiting, Indiana, that define your city?
As I said, I'll start locally at first, but I was lying in bad last night, too excited to sleep as I thought about going out to various town parks, or local festivals, and sitting down with a sign that says something like "I'm writing a book! Ask me how you can help!" A book...I guess that's how I'd have to share the experiences I learn about. The idea kept getting bigger as I jumped out of bed a couple times to jot down notes about what I'd ask people. I don't know whether I'll ever get to that stage, but it's fun to think about.
And on top of, or in addition to, or in synergy with, that, I need to travel. I need to see more of the world.
I talked to my mom a bit about that after the show. About the wide variety of human experience and how I want to see it. Cities and places and ways of life. She said it sounds like I want to go walkabout. That's probably a good way to put it.
I talked to Moira about it last night too. What I said was that I've realized that everything in the world is impermanent. The only things that really matter are people. Making yourself happy, and making the people you care about happy. And that, in the Buddhist ideal, you care about everyone. Life is too short and the world is too big for me not to see as much of it, and meet as many of its residents, as I can. I want to take six months or a year at some point and just travel. I think I could do it really cheaply. In fact, I'd probably go wherever I could find someone willing to put me up. I'd sign up on couchsurfing.org and stay with interesting strangers and make new friends. Maybe I'd even try sleeping under the stars in California or Florida. If I'm doing city interviews at that point, I could interview my hosts and people in the cities I visit. And I should do it while I'm still young enough that I don't have any health issues to worry about.
Amazingly, Moira wasn't paniced by this idea. If circumstances were right, and I saved up some money first, she could be okay with it. How about that? I'm going to have to figure out how much money I could reasonably get by on. I'm also thinking about doing some couch-surfing ventures locally. Maybe I can find somebody to stay with in Milwaukee, just for a weekend, and wander the city and see what this is like.
So...that's kind of where my brain is as I ride the train in to work this first day back from my week of vacation. The time off was better for me than I could have imagined, and exceedingly well timed. I really needed it. I'm back, more ready to work, have better goals in mind, and am much less likely to go postal.
I have a ton more to write about. Primarily, how I spent the weekend and Moira and my upcoming move. But that'll wait until next post.
I love you all!!
