Tentatively Entitled Panopticon

I'm working on a short story tentatively entitled "Panopticon". During a slow day at work last week I decided to brush up on my knowledge of Utilitarianism and naturally found myself researching Jeremy Bentham, a leading proponent of the philosophy. While roaming and reading, I came across a diagram and description of his invention, the Panopticon. A Panopticon is a prison that holds the prisoners in the center and guards on the outside. It is designed to permit observers to look inward without being detected. In other words it provides what architect, Silke Berit Lang, calls "sentiment of an invisible omniscience". I scribbled down some key attributes of the structure and drew disturbing connections to society on a small piece of paper I have been carrying around with me since. This strange creation struck me. Fascinated and disturbed me. I can't actually get it out of my head. Needing the threat of an invisible watchman (sorry for the term since denotes sex but it fit) to force us into doing good out of fear of punishment-not because it is our choice is unsettling. You know the discussion of an ultimate power must be discussed. The thought that society is more interested in enforcing rules and norms than explaining and convincing people and really, allowing for individuality over conformity bothers me. Some questions I am contemplating: Is morality objective? Can a person really be a moral agent if acting for motivations other than to be a good person? (I think I need to go back and read my Kant).

A Panopticon serves as an interesting case study and a beautiful platform for a dystopian satire. I have had the main concept and various interweaving themes of great personal interest floating around my head, working towards becoming a cohesive story for about a half year now.

It all began while waiting at the bus depot downtown for the number 28 to campus last winter. I sat there watching people and particularly doors. There will be great focus on doors in my story. Sliding tracks and doorknobs. Pay close attention to the details--I promise you I've spent more time considering doors than is probably considered acceptable. I am particularly preoccupied with the simplicity in function and dutiful fulfillment of purpose that doors accomplish. And what happens if they no longer satisfy their ready-to-hand (reference to Heidegger) conformist role? The protagonist in my story will experience a present-at-hand disruption.

A bus stop may be where I realized that my ideas were gathering together with exciting rapidity and important cohesion but really, this story started years ago in airports. Observing my fellow travelers, disconnectedly watching people pass by--so many people with different motivations, talents and fears--so many involved and encompassing lives people were living inside their heads. It is so easy for me to forget there are other narratives and eyes things are being viewed from other than my own-until I find myself confronted with it at the airport. Waiting at a terminal it is an inescapable reality.

What all this means isn't quite clear to me. But something has been building up and I am excited to release my thoughts and more importantly my questions, fears and warnings onto paper.

As a side note, character development is something I'm working on as I haven't written a fictional account since I was a third grader and wrote (and illustrated!) a story about Germy, the friendly bacteria, and her boyfriend, Germaine. I have found this list of character questions extremely helpful if you need a little help too:

Pajama Obstacle Course.

The weekends I work dispatch at our local newspaper, my shifts begin before the sun rises—even in the summer. Allowing my hair to air dry as I slept, a comforting habit from childhood, I awoke with a disheveled half swept up style rugged from a night of unsettled tossing about. After working out that my alarm belonged in the world of the droning fan filling the dark room and not to whatever role my unconscious had assigned it, in my quickly fleeting dream state I tumbled out of bed. And stumbled into my hallway—right into my vacuum cleaner. You see, I like to devise early morning death traps for myself to keep nimble. One of my longtime personal favourites being the running shoes in the doorway obstacle course. Ah, how many memories and bruises can be attributed to this game of agility.

I took a large silver can of hairspray from the bathroom counter. Applying a mist over the top of my head, I made a weak effort to smooth the voluminous tousled birds nest into place. Polished wasn’t the look I was after but durability. Sometimes when I wake up and my bangs are sticking straight up, I like to snap a photo of me looking like a cockatoo and send it to random people in my phonebook to say good morning. I think that's a rather pleasant way to wake.

Today I apparently wanted to share my mess of a self with a wider audience. I wore my pajama top to work under a cardigan. I don't think anyone noticed--it looks like a decorative floral tank top. But I knew. And I am an avid protester of anything pajama or too lounge-like in public. When I went to university, I would find myself embarrassed by my fellow schlubs wearing sweat and yoga pants to class. Particularly as I would notice tour groups of potential future students and their parents on campus. I always thought we should have a policy restricting this--with the motto: your bedroom does not extend to the classroom. And signs posted on the back of bathroom stalls: Look like a professional that you are trying to mold yourself into. You see, I've actually thought this through. The administration could publish a schedule of days with tours each semester (with the option to read it online in an effort to go green as well) and send friendly but forceful reminder emails the night before. Any violators would be forced into some session on how to dress like a professional taught by the business school. So it seems strange that I would even step outside my door in half a pajama set. It can only be attributed to my failure as a morning person.

So tomorrow as I zombie-like strut to my taxi cab with sleep in my eyes, I will be sure that I am wearing proper clothing. I may not be one but I do have to coexist with these morning people

Stories are on the way!

I haven't been posting regularly. It isn't that I haven't been writing but sometimes I can spend days trying to perfect something before I submit it. I also like to write while I walk around and it can be difficult to decipher what I've scribbled all over margins and over typed words. I have heard that procrastination is often a side effect of seeking perfection. It can also be a show of laziness but that isn't so (in this case).

I've also been struggling with being overindulgent in finding joy in the detailing of events in my life. That's worded strangely but at this point I just want to get something down. It is good to be so amused by one's own life but I wonder if others will share the same experience enjoying my stories or whether they find it narcissistic. I suppose if you do, please stop reading. If you like it, keep on. This weekend I will be quite busy but I promise stories of lighting friends on fire, running away from the bouquet toss, a well-thought out piece of dating advice and a detailed account of Doug, known to my friends as "that neighbor".

:) x 10

Roadtrip with the boys several summers ago to Seattle for a Mariners's game.
(Shane's applying lip gloss to a snoring Stephen).

Paul, Shane, me & Stephen in the backseat.
We look young.

My bags are finally packed and my ticket confirmation is printed! I used bringing T3 vino from our local Townshend Winery for a gift as an excuse to check luggage and bring more shoes along. This evening I am leaving Spokane, WA, for Davis, CA, where I'm meeting up with two of my favourite people, Stephen and Shane! We met several years ago at Gonzaga University, where we worked in the summers and were students during the academic years. We used to talk and laugh for hours when we were together and have managed to stay close with long phone calls and getting together whenever we can. We'll be meeting and staying with Shane's family--and I am beyond excited about this. I've heard stories about them and I'm always really interested to see who shaped my best friends into who they are. Shane has been torturing his mother this past week trying to convince her she hasn't made it clear we can stay with them and that we'll probably book a hotel--I can hear the amusement in his voice and her protesting in the background. :) This long weekend will reunite the three of us together for the first time since we were undergraduates--wow. I'm both incredibly excited and quite sad. The reason for our quick trip down there is Shane will be deployed (I have a habit of saying deported for some unknown reason) to serve in Afghanistan for a year in August. I can't wait to see the boys!