The elevators in the building where I work are, in a word, insane. They are slow, infrequent and sometimes they flat out lie. You can get on a down elevator that goes down two floors and then it decides it's an up elevator!
So, this morning I'm in the elevator lobby waiting with the other elevator commuters for the express car to the 40th floor. One of the lights goes off, indicating a pending arrival. People shuffle to get in front of it. Not two seconds later, a light goes off on the car next to it. I move over to that one, figuring it might be a little less crowded.
I was right. Before my car arrived, I got to watch fifteen people pack themselves into that first car. I got onto the second car by myself.
Not that I'm complaining. I didn't have to fight through four different brands of perfume, the smell of the last cigarette of the morning or anyone's coffee breath. It was a nice way to begin the morning. It just shocks me how much people don't pay attention, how sheeplike they really are. In groups, we are just herd animals. We just want to get our coffee, get to our desks and survive the first hour of the morning. We've already been ripped from our beds, attacked ourselves with razors, chemicals and electric coil machines for "beauty" and "hygiene", dressed in demeaning costumes, and risked our lives in traffic - what's a packed elevator in comparison?
In the movie, Con Air, Steve Buscemi's character compared office work to insanity:
"What if I told you insane was working fifty hours a week in some office for fifty years at the end of which they tell you to piss off. Ending up in some retirement village, hoping to die before suffering the indignity of trying to make it to the toilet on time. Wouldn't you consider that to be insane?"
The absolute rightness of that statement is scary.
I had a thought last week. For once it was not a thought about how far my life is from where I want it to be. It wasn't a thought about all the opportunities I have wasted over the years. It was actually a though about something I could do to maybe make my life better. And outside of potentially being a colossal waste of time, it won't make it much worse.
Cory Doctorow is one of many people who think that the modern publishing system and overbroad copyright protections are working against both writers and readers. He isn't sure what might make for a better replacement, but instead of just botching about it, he is experimenting with solutions. One potential solution he is experimenting with is releasing his novels for free online. You can read his book in part or in whole for free before deciding to pay money for it. Of course, you can read it and never pay a cent for it. But maybe you will go buy it after hearing about this odd little experiment when you might not have heard about it at all otherwise.
I thought I might take his experiment one step further and bypass traditional publication completely. I could try to write something I consider worthy of other people's time. I could set up a website, or use this one, to publish it in a few electronic formats. I could, like Doctorow, release people to share these electronic versions on their websites, on Usenet, or where ever they want, without requiring them to pay. They will have the right also to change the file format to whatever they choose. They just won't be able to change the text of the file or sell it or otherwise use it to make money without my permission. I could include links in the text to paypal or some similar site where readers, if they are of a mind, can go to pay me a dollar, or $.50 , or whatever, if they think the book is worth. I can set up a Cafe Press, or some similar, shop where those who are so inclined can buy hard copies.
Of course, this would mean a major change in myself, my life and my attitude. I would have to find the headspace where I could let go of my job and school and other such distractions, or better yet turn them into material. This would mean getting over my self indulgent self pity. It would mean trying to find at least some regular time, whether every day or every weekend, to write. And it would mean having the discipline carry through, to proofread my own work and to make something that I would be proud to have my name on.
If I do it, maybe I will be remembered as a pioneer. Or maybe I will be remembered as another schmuck who bought into the wrong hype. Or maybe I won't be remembered at all. If I don't know for a fact that the only option will be the latter.
Okay, the short version of the trip report: I had fun with family. I had fun with friends. STL is still a sink hole that could only be enriched by a major natural disaster. However, being that I am now at the age of nostalgia, I wish I had the means to go back and return some life to her - for she, too, is my mother. Had I gone in less Seattle-like weather, I might not have had these feelings at all. There you go. The last time I wrote this report it took over an hour - after losing that report and some serious editing, I'm down to five minutes. That's talent, folks!
Now, onto the subjects at hand. This weekend I had a few things revealed to me that I was not quite aware of by some people that are very close to my heart. I thought I'd come out here and share these feelings with y'all. That's what blogs are about, right?
The first thing I have been told is that any feelings or opinions I may have are moot. Apparently, I'm just being crabby. So, folks, the next time you come out here and see a post, just brush past it. It's just me being crabby. Matter of fact, you can probably skip the rest of this post, it's just a load of crabbiness. Just go click on one of Max's links. I'm sorry to waste your time.
The next thing I was told, by a completely different set of people than the thing above, is that I have never been interesting. The more I thought about it, the more that the correctness of this observation was apparent to me. I have indeed never been interesting. I have always hung around unique, diverse and interesting people. As the past few years have gone by, I have hung out with fewer and fewer people. I starting working in the corporate world, first for a large airplane manufacturer, then for an insurer and now for a law firm. So, my work environment has become less interesting as well. In short, I am a mirror of my environment and circle of friends. I have no personality of my own. There is no way I could have ever been interesting. How I have kept any friends or family around at all is beyond me.
Now that I've discovered that I have no personality, my opinions are moot and there are no $50 steaks in my near future - finding a reason to keep breathing in and out is going to become more difficult. Pray for me.
Read Cory Doctorow's novel Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom . It is weird but very cool and he has kindly allowed for free distribution of electronic copies.
