The night before the morning after the day that never was and might still be if we all cross our fingers and squint to the horizon. The nerves are setting in, can you tell?
It's bizarre. I'm not nervous about going, getting or being - I'm more nervous about what I'm leaving behind. The last year has been very good and everything seems to be coming to a neat conclusion, in a sense. Ignore the grim sense of finality in that last sentence, I haven't been chipping my way through a list of things to do before the inevitable happens. What I mean is, last summer I made plan of what I was going to do for the next year - I joined an art course and I signed up for a nameless agency which sends people to America to work in Summer Camps. A little history: it's something I've meant to do for yonks but have never got around to (I say that, what I really mean is this is the time I haven't chickened out - and what's great about that is I haven't wanted to chicken out).
The course I've been doing since last September officially ended today and I'm really gutted that all the people I've met and got to know for the past howevermany months are all going off to uni. I spent a great day today staving off the inevitable goodbyes talking about nonsense and hanging around in shops and cafes. Wonderful. I've been very lucky with my groups of friends over the years, all of them have been diverse, intelligent people with interesting and funny personalities. Bizarrely, they've all been really good-looking as well but I'm 70% certain that's coincidental. Since Christmas though, I've been working day-in and day-out with very talented people who have fed my imagination and thirst for what I love doing. People have always told me art is my calling but these people made me believe it. I don't care how naff and cheesy that sounds.
Not only has my brain been well looked after but everyone around seems to have settled into a nice swing. It feels really weird to be leaving at a time when things are just settling down nicely. However, there's a lot of cobwebs that need blowing out of my head, so, you know, swings and roundabouts.
With regards to packing, which I freely admit I'm procrastinating from (?), I've got some fairly strange suggestions. The most re-assuring one so far has been from someone who has already been at camp for a bit. Flip-flops were something I hadn't considered, but which I'm told are essential (for showering etc.). I'm not entirely sure I feel comfortable with the idea of being naked except for flip-flops, shower or nay. Ah well, better that than verrucas and the like. On the subject of sunglasses, (for, of all things, "glare off the lake"), I was disappointed to find out this morning that my prescription sunglasses won't be ready until tomorrow. Guess what I'm doing tomorrow kids? Flying. That's right. I said a very rude swear word at the top of my voice, luckily it was voicemail and not a real person breaking the bad news. My oh my was I tee-d off. Despite what they say, you're better off NOT going to Specsavers.
The overall gist seems to be "pack light and practical", but what's practical when you aren't entirely sure what you're going to be doing? I wonder whether I'll really need running shorts? Would it, in fact, be easier to buy them out there if and when I need them? I think that question just answered itself really.
So. For the morbidly curious, the following couple of days looks like this: up at 7 tomorrow to drive to Heathrow, arrive at around mid day and meet up with agency chappy. Mooch around until four when the plane goes, fly to America which may take anything from six to a million hours. When arrived meet up with more agency peeps who will then drive me/us to a university staging area. I imagine at this point, feeling bewildered and a little overwhelmed, I'll try and eat something before catching an early night. The following day will be split between a morning orientation session and an afternoon of more travelling, the details of which have yet to be revealed. Ultimately, I imagine, I'll arrive at camp after another internal flight and more car journey-age. Take a moment to consider that the post that follows this one will be after a lot of travelling. It's funny how time and space get reduced by writing.
Friday 30 May 2008
Wednesday 28 May 2008
On Blogging
Without this getting a bit too meta I thought it would be interesting to discuss Blogging in general because the topic's been on my mind. For somebody who is only scraping the surface of computer literacy the medium of blogging via websites like Blogger is one of the best ways of getting your point across, ranting or just scratching a whimsical itch. It's a bit like talking to yourself in a crowd, most people aren't going to notice you doing it, some people might and pass comment and a small amount might actually be interested. In terms of readership and attracting interest it's a drop in the ocean, unless you're affiliated with the media in some other way or you're writing something new and exciting which snowballs into a phenomenon. Blogging can be private, intimate or just a day to day account of your life, but if you don't use any specific names or details it remains as anonymous and private as a physical diary/journal.
It's an outlet. The fact that there are so many people who feel the need to contribute suggests to me that we're a species that likes to be heard. I know I do. I have no illusions about my motivations for writing this, firstly I want to think out my opinion on something and secondly I want somebody to read it. Normally I blog stories (does it require a capital letter? I think it does), short fiction, comics, written/drawn doodles and scraps; ideas which normally would have stayed in my head have been expressed in some way and digested. For the last year or so it's been one of the things keeping me sane and I think in a wider sense the Internet and the process of interacting with it is playing a vital role in keeping others sane. In an article I'm going on to talk about in a minute, the writer refers to the hoards of people she imagines sitting at their desks reading her blog on their lunch breaks or cheekily between jobs. Here's a fact that doesn't get stated enough - working in an office is a completely unnatural yet entirely necessary human function. In a day to day, slightly pre-historic sense we're designed to run, live off the land and survive in all manner of environments. Snow, heat, rain, jungles. I think in creating the office space we, as a species, have finally stumped our capacity to adapt. Our bodies turn to mush, leaving us lethargic and prone to obesity and our minds wander like nobody's business. If the Internet collapsed on itself tomorrow you'd hear the collective screams of millions of office workers as they throw themselves from their fifth storey departments.
Anyway, I digress. I was going to talk about an article I read in the Independent Extra on the train earlier about Gawker, a site/Blog I hadn't come across until the article. Gawker in the words of the Indy is "New York's bitchiest, most successful gossip website,". Its author discusses how she came to work for the site, how she became its most popular bitchy commentator and how she ultimately came under the scrutiny of its own standards, was left wanting and collapsed in a pit of misery and prophetic irony. Suffice it to say my sympathy for the woman only extends so far. She gets egg on her face basically, starting off as a proponent of proto-stalking, really bitchy commentary and generally fuelling her own fire, she makes the mistake of going on a chat show to talk about the site, doesn't realise she's there to defend it and ends up making a fool of herself in front of millions. Unfortunately she doesn't realise that this has turned the commentary away from celebrities and onto her, having effectively made herself a celebrity and fair game for attack. (If you're interested - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2-avakrRUaU).
What did I take away from this? Well, basically the uncertain and unpredictable nature of such an ephemeral mistress as the web and the billions of minds who lurk there. It made me kind of wonder whether we were on the edge of a new revolution in communication and expression. From messages on cave walls to letters to telephones to SMS to Blogging. There's such a need to contribute and at the same time such a want to consume - you only have to look at the attention seekers on MySpace and Facebook to realise that at some point they aren't going to be as pretty as they were, they're a little bit older and a little bit wiser and suddenly they're all blogging their personal lives. Don't worry, the irony isn't lost on me.
As a species we like secrets, discovering other people's and secretly hoping other people will discover ours. Why do people take their diaries to school if not to be found? If it was that awful you'd leave it under the bed, surely. As the owner of a diary one should, I feel, be responsible enough to expect people to want to look in it. Luckily for me, I don't own a diary but if I did I probably would leave it lying around and then get upset if someone read it. I'm not really judging the hypocrisy, I'm just wondering vaguely whether the diary, for some people, was a stopover medium for the Blog.
It's an outlet. The fact that there are so many people who feel the need to contribute suggests to me that we're a species that likes to be heard. I know I do. I have no illusions about my motivations for writing this, firstly I want to think out my opinion on something and secondly I want somebody to read it. Normally I blog stories (does it require a capital letter? I think it does), short fiction, comics, written/drawn doodles and scraps; ideas which normally would have stayed in my head have been expressed in some way and digested. For the last year or so it's been one of the things keeping me sane and I think in a wider sense the Internet and the process of interacting with it is playing a vital role in keeping others sane. In an article I'm going on to talk about in a minute, the writer refers to the hoards of people she imagines sitting at their desks reading her blog on their lunch breaks or cheekily between jobs. Here's a fact that doesn't get stated enough - working in an office is a completely unnatural yet entirely necessary human function. In a day to day, slightly pre-historic sense we're designed to run, live off the land and survive in all manner of environments. Snow, heat, rain, jungles. I think in creating the office space we, as a species, have finally stumped our capacity to adapt. Our bodies turn to mush, leaving us lethargic and prone to obesity and our minds wander like nobody's business. If the Internet collapsed on itself tomorrow you'd hear the collective screams of millions of office workers as they throw themselves from their fifth storey departments.
Anyway, I digress. I was going to talk about an article I read in the Independent Extra on the train earlier about Gawker, a site/Blog I hadn't come across until the article. Gawker in the words of the Indy is "New York's bitchiest, most successful gossip website,". Its author discusses how she came to work for the site, how she became its most popular bitchy commentator and how she ultimately came under the scrutiny of its own standards, was left wanting and collapsed in a pit of misery and prophetic irony. Suffice it to say my sympathy for the woman only extends so far. She gets egg on her face basically, starting off as a proponent of proto-stalking, really bitchy commentary and generally fuelling her own fire, she makes the mistake of going on a chat show to talk about the site, doesn't realise she's there to defend it and ends up making a fool of herself in front of millions. Unfortunately she doesn't realise that this has turned the commentary away from celebrities and onto her, having effectively made herself a celebrity and fair game for attack. (If you're interested - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2-avakrRUaU).
What did I take away from this? Well, basically the uncertain and unpredictable nature of such an ephemeral mistress as the web and the billions of minds who lurk there. It made me kind of wonder whether we were on the edge of a new revolution in communication and expression. From messages on cave walls to letters to telephones to SMS to Blogging. There's such a need to contribute and at the same time such a want to consume - you only have to look at the attention seekers on MySpace and Facebook to realise that at some point they aren't going to be as pretty as they were, they're a little bit older and a little bit wiser and suddenly they're all blogging their personal lives. Don't worry, the irony isn't lost on me.
As a species we like secrets, discovering other people's and secretly hoping other people will discover ours. Why do people take their diaries to school if not to be found? If it was that awful you'd leave it under the bed, surely. As the owner of a diary one should, I feel, be responsible enough to expect people to want to look in it. Luckily for me, I don't own a diary but if I did I probably would leave it lying around and then get upset if someone read it. I'm not really judging the hypocrisy, I'm just wondering vaguely whether the diary, for some people, was a stopover medium for the Blog.
Sunday 25 May 2008
Less than a week to go.
Anticipation is a strange thing.
I'm trying to break down the logistics of what lies ahead in my mind and I'm having a hard time reconciling my expectations and the reality. The reality is that on Saturday I'm getting on a plane for the US and I'm going to be spending two and a half months doing something I've never done before. This should be scary but it isn't, quite.
American Summer Camps mean different things to two key demographics. To the Americans, (I'm assuming, seeing as I haven't actually spoken to one yet regarding the subject, but I'm drawing upon what I've been told/read), it's part of their culture, it's something they do and they consider it a fairly important part of growing up. To the other demographic I'm counting, i.e. the thousands of people who fly out to the States every summer from all over the world, it's a unique opportunity to take part in and contribute to something that they've invariably seen on the telly or read about somewhere. The reputation of Summer Camps precedes them; everyone has some kind of idea about what their like (I'm sure Adams Family Values has a lot to answer for - I saw that again recently, it may have been a mistake). Apart from anything else it's just an accepted part of "what students do", along with half-inching trolleys, road trips etc.. For some strange reason the idea of going abroad and doing something as barmy and stressful as looking after kids for a Summer seems appealing, and I'm not just being sarcastic, I do genuinely believe it sounds appealing. I think it may have something to do with the Number X of Important Things You Should Do Before You Die factor.
Cynical running commentary aside I'm really looking forward to it. It's strange, I have all these assumptions about what it might be like, what it's probably like and then there's the part of me reserved for the unexpected. I know it's not going to be like what I think it's going to be like. The first time I looked at the videos on the Camp website scared me witless - I couldn't believe that these people I hadn't met yet all existed in a strange bubble, it was a bit too much like glimpsing into an alien future, it was very uncomfortable yet strangely thrilling at the same time.
Logistically speaking there's not much left to do now and that feels a bit scary - surely I've forgotten something. I have a friend who likes lists and I seem to have caught the bug - with so much stuff to organise all at once there simply isn't enough room in my brain, and there's nothing more satisfying than ticking off something on a list. Apart from anything else there are the things I hadn't quite considered until recently regarding what's going to happen to my life where I am now. After all, I may be away for up to three months, that's a fairly long time. My bedroom, for example, is a complete mess and it needs to be sorted while I'm away - guess what I'm doing tomorrow. Then there's the small matter of an exhibition that needs to be brought down on Tuesday, clothes and stuff need to be bought on wednesday - thursday will probably involve more tidying and Friday... I'm not sure I can think that far ahead. I know exactly what's happening on the weekend though. More travelling than I have ever done. Ever.
There's also the small matter of what exactly I'm going to do when I come back, but there's no point in worrying about that now. I wonder whether I'm giving the impression of being a bit neurotic.
I'm trying to break down the logistics of what lies ahead in my mind and I'm having a hard time reconciling my expectations and the reality. The reality is that on Saturday I'm getting on a plane for the US and I'm going to be spending two and a half months doing something I've never done before. This should be scary but it isn't, quite.
American Summer Camps mean different things to two key demographics. To the Americans, (I'm assuming, seeing as I haven't actually spoken to one yet regarding the subject, but I'm drawing upon what I've been told/read), it's part of their culture, it's something they do and they consider it a fairly important part of growing up. To the other demographic I'm counting, i.e. the thousands of people who fly out to the States every summer from all over the world, it's a unique opportunity to take part in and contribute to something that they've invariably seen on the telly or read about somewhere. The reputation of Summer Camps precedes them; everyone has some kind of idea about what their like (I'm sure Adams Family Values has a lot to answer for - I saw that again recently, it may have been a mistake). Apart from anything else it's just an accepted part of "what students do", along with half-inching trolleys, road trips etc.. For some strange reason the idea of going abroad and doing something as barmy and stressful as looking after kids for a Summer seems appealing, and I'm not just being sarcastic, I do genuinely believe it sounds appealing. I think it may have something to do with the Number X of Important Things You Should Do Before You Die factor.
Cynical running commentary aside I'm really looking forward to it. It's strange, I have all these assumptions about what it might be like, what it's probably like and then there's the part of me reserved for the unexpected. I know it's not going to be like what I think it's going to be like. The first time I looked at the videos on the Camp website scared me witless - I couldn't believe that these people I hadn't met yet all existed in a strange bubble, it was a bit too much like glimpsing into an alien future, it was very uncomfortable yet strangely thrilling at the same time.
Logistically speaking there's not much left to do now and that feels a bit scary - surely I've forgotten something. I have a friend who likes lists and I seem to have caught the bug - with so much stuff to organise all at once there simply isn't enough room in my brain, and there's nothing more satisfying than ticking off something on a list. Apart from anything else there are the things I hadn't quite considered until recently regarding what's going to happen to my life where I am now. After all, I may be away for up to three months, that's a fairly long time. My bedroom, for example, is a complete mess and it needs to be sorted while I'm away - guess what I'm doing tomorrow. Then there's the small matter of an exhibition that needs to be brought down on Tuesday, clothes and stuff need to be bought on wednesday - thursday will probably involve more tidying and Friday... I'm not sure I can think that far ahead. I know exactly what's happening on the weekend though. More travelling than I have ever done. Ever.
There's also the small matter of what exactly I'm going to do when I come back, but there's no point in worrying about that now. I wonder whether I'm giving the impression of being a bit neurotic.
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