A Short Note on the Human Condition

*a wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other*


I just finished A Tale of Two Cities. In addition to needing to have it done by Friday, it was a fantastic work, and I read zealously for long chunks of time until my mind reached its Dickens saturation point, and no more high language and loaded symbolism could be stowed within my head. This novel has weaseled its way into my list of favorite books ever, not merely because it is, on the whole, brilliant, but more because each line, each sentence, exists as an individual statement of truth and beauty. Take the above quote, from chapter 3 of Book the First. It has often amazed me how much I am disconnected from the people I pass every day, how many times a day I ask 'how are you?' and how many times I do not really care what the answer is. But perhaps that is half the beauty of being human, that the true state of a person cannot be candidly known. What kind of world would we live in if everything I ever thought was open and public to anyone who cared to inquire about it. We might learn to live with this after awhile, to not exist in a permanent state of hatred for each other and our profoundly intolerant thoughts for everyone else, but on the whole I think it is better not to know, to view the situation as Dickens does, as wonderful. Ultimately, we were not meant to be open books, no matter how many novels we read.

The Stop-Action of Life

It was thus far been an interesting excursion into the assignment of "people in context." That is this week's photography assignment: to photograph people in context. As I am holding up the camera to people who are not smiling at it, who are occasionally unaware of its presence, who do not see through the lens as I do, I am noticing the nuances of people's daily lives, as well as how much cannot be captured by a camera. We were at Starbucks for a couple hours earlier today, and, as I continually snapped pictures of my companions playing cards, I also took note, and even a few surreptitious photos, of other beings in the coffee shop. There was a foreign man standing board straight, holding newspapers, in front of the 'Italian Roast' sign on the wall, but before I could take the picture, he moved forward in line, and the image was gone. Same with Liz as we played a card game. There were numerous expressions that passed over her face that I was unable to photograph before they were gone. This sense of continually missing the "perfect" picture is frustrating, but at the same time, forces me to think about life, not as a one long, continuous film that passes in a constant stream, but as a series of individual and detailed moments, all of which need to treasured as they are, and, if possible, captured.

Hometown

Every time I go home, I make it a point to spend quality time with my beloved Portland. This place forces me to consider how much where we live influences who we are, since I believe myself to be a native Portlander, but am unsure whether I was born that way, or whether the city shaped me to be its own. The homeless in the more real parts of town, the crowds outside the shady bars, the hairdresser wearing fishnets and covered in tattoos are all as much 'Portland' as the businesspeople in their suits, carrying expensive briefcases and coffee, and the hip thirty-somethings in small groups of three or four crowding out the upscale restaurants and cafes. Did these people adopt the city as their own, or are they the Aborigines, who have always been this way? It is easy to tell who does not belong to the city; they are ones with large umbrellas, inadequate clothing, and guide books. I pride myself on not even owning an umbrella, much less ever using one. I don't own the guide books, and I know how to layer in order to stay warm against the almost omnipresent raindrops.
Which leads me to the question of adaptation.
Although P-town is my hometown, I now reside near Seattle, and have made it a goal this semester to come to know Seattle like I know Portland, to gain knowledge of all the cool shops and restaurants around the city. Last night my two roommates and I went down to the U District (the area of Seattle surrounding the University of Washington) for some used clothes shopping. We hit up Buffalo Exchange and Recycled Fashion, and I finally found a pair of boots that I have been looking for. We are planning on going again for some more second-hand finds, maybe trying one of the many Asian food places along University Way. Seattle is indeed a beautiful city. Kitty-corner to one of the shops, jutting out above the under-construction warehouses, was a black, cathedral-style tower, with the light shining on it just so against the black sky, making it one of the most striking and beautiful scenes I have encountered here. I am looking forward to many such scenes in my future.