Such a nice view, and other random observations

I really do have a very good view out of my window (out of my room which I call the treehouse, because from in it I can see tops of trees dotted around the neighbourhood). I can also see the city, surprisingly close, and water between us. The city is just a city as cities go, you know, the requisitive number of sky rises, the green tinted mirror front buildings that face the sun and ripen autumn colours as it goes down. Right now they are in that 'post-colour' moment, when the sky is a deep loaded grey blue, and the buildings have gone pale and golden. On one side, of this narrow strip of harbourside buildings, where the sun's rays still land on them, they are mirrored. Over there, the other end, it is already night, and there internal lights illuminate them.

I like the way that the city looks two-dimensional, a long row, a jagged skyline, and no evidence whatsoever that there is anything at all behind them. Like it's projected on a velvet drop. Like the fake towns constructed in every second Western Movie to outwit the baddies, and also, confusingly, in every single movie about making a Western Movie, but this time as prop that both the audience and the baddies are meant to think of as real buildings. Whataver, but you know the kind with their slanted wooden legs jutting out behind them, they are very iconic, non? If this city was fake it wouldn't be like that though, it would be holographic or printed on a giant fast turnaround printing press on some kid of light waterproof polyvinyl and hanging from lightweight scaff that a perfect nailed, coiffed events manager had sent up there with a bark and the wave of her hand.

You know, I was thinking about that notion of audiences for the things we make and do, I think it's such an interesting one.
I forgot to mention in my earlier post that for me the 'scribbling in notebooks phase' didn't end when the 'typing in blogland' began. The notebook reflections are much more private, and include questioning, list making, drawing, but if there was ever a clear sense that I have around what goes in where, the boundaries have blurred at times. It used to be clearer what was private private thoughts, and what was semi public private thoughts. I think maybe the incremental expression of self online can build up trust with the medium/audience, and you find yourself opening up a bit more, but despite that there is a degree of honesty, a shortcut of expression that I find easier in the notebook. Certainly I notebook in greater volumes than I blog. Of course, to what *end* we write for no-one but ourselves, and whether it is completely selfish wank or useful theraputic and processing tool I guess is a moot point.

I've heard people say 'they weren't really playing to the audience' about musicians, and I understand that some things are by their nature social, require a performer and an audience, and that both roles should be valued. I also tend to think 'yah, good on them' in the case of the musician above rather than 'selfish pratt'. I think sometimes the things we do just for ourselves, with no thought to what other people might want or like or prefer, just out of joy and reflection, can be lovely. Fashion is so fickle, but then popular art and street driven pursuits can be raw and beautiful. Oh phht, who knows. Maybe it's the thing of doing, without doing it initially for the audience or pandering to its possible preferences, and also being willing to share and enjoying sharing with the audience, that is the perfect mix. Anyway, all abstract notions that don't really affect my evening. Which is going to involve finishing a report, drinking wine and making pizzas. The concrete, useful things around which abstract thought floats.

A friend at work was describing what we do for a crust, trying to characterise it, and said that she thought reallly it was everyone else who makes the world go around - the person who bakes the bread, who delivers milk to the deli, who prints things and rents out DVD's, who fix things, and make things. Our work is all head stuff and at times can feel abstract and not all that useful (although it is, it is, really). Just a few steps away from day to day survival (although of course the reason we do it is because we think that sustainability is ultimately linked to survival and that some people are so busy with all the bread delivering they forget to think about how things connect and the collective implications of what we do). And sometimes I think 'is this job perfect for me because I think, think, think all the time.. or is it encouraging me to be more thinky when I would rather be a bit more feely?'. See - I even think too much about whether I think too much. Oh the irony!

And this leads me to go back to the messy desk thing. Merri Risa rightly pointed out that likely noone gives too hoots about whether or what or how I have decorated my desk at work, and yes, when I think about it, I know that everyone there is different and diverse in their own right, not buttoned up too tight, each with their own set of mess and clutter, and no-one has ever said anything to make me think that I am *too* messy or weird. But I feel weird. So that makes me think it only logical that others will think this of me too. I was talking to 'Bob'* mypsychotherapistcounsellordude and he told me about a workshop he went to where one person said 'look, I just have to say, I really think I'm the odd one out here' and the facilitator said 'ok, that's interesting, let's explore that. Is that how everyone else is seeing this?' and out it came that almost half the people in the room had been convinced that they solely were the odd one out - too different in their perspective, too ideologicallly outlying, too uncomfortable, not aligned strongly enough with the group, whatever. Himself included. He did then say as an aside 'well, it was a workshop of psychotherapists' with a smile and rising eyebrow and we both laughed. But I get the point. Just because I feel too messy, too thinky, too loud, too quiet, too colourful, too whatever, does not neccessarily mean that those things are real or a burning issue for me, or that they are strong characteristics that I should 'work on' - it could just be that the judgement I place on myself about those things, the worry about standing out, the worry about making other people uncomfortable, or of not being good enough, is the thing I need to change. LIke, instead of going to counselling and finding out what a fruitcake I am, I go to counselling and find out that if only I would stop worrying about being a fruitcake then i would be halfway to normal (or 'normal', your choice).

So what if my desk is decorated with pictures, and so what even if I worked somewhere ridiculous enough to think that was a problem (I don't), and so what even if people did think I was any of those things. What then? Why would that neccessarily be a reason to change? Obviously the answer is 'not neccessarily' and I guess that is the thing I am musing on at the moment.


Oooh - look there, the lights have gone down now, the city is glowering out of dark blue.

I was going to tell you about parties and katate kids and librarians refusing to choose, but that will have to wait till next time.


*Not his real name.