Bureaucratic Waltz

Today I went to the passport office to apply for a new passport. I brought a book to pass the time, as I was sure the place would be a maze of lines. And also because I never leave the house without a book.

I found the building without too much difficulty, which surprised me because in my experience government offices are rather elusive. But once I got into the building -- a pretty big affair with two towers and many corridors and elevators -- I was astounded to find that there were no signs indicating which offices were on which floors. So I walked around the ground floor a bit, and found after turning some corners that Suite 103, the one I was looking for, was not far away.

I went through the glass doors and had to stop to get my bearings; to my left was a man consulting with people and directing them to various lineups, to my right was a lineup marked "pre-sorting" and ahead of me was a row of counters and attendants, facing a room full of chairs where people sat. There was another lineup, apparently for the counters, to my far left. I joined the pre-sorting line since I wasn't sure where to go. I wondered as I stood there what the attendant near the door was doing, if not sorting, and why there wasn't a line in front of him, and whether I was just a sheep joining an apparently redundant cause. In any case, my turn finally came, my documents were reviewed and I was directed to line 20.

As I joined this second line, I noticed that there was a row of monitors facing the seated people, showing which client number was being served by which agent. This seemed strange, since no one had issued me a number, and it seemed that most everyone was going straight from pre-sorting to line 20, and seated people were not moving much or quickly. A man standing next to me asked if this was line 21, I said no and then he disappeared, I don't know where.

When my turn came, I was directed not to booth 20, but to booth 11. I wondered why the line I had stood in was 20. Why not just a general lineup? Or why couldn't I take a number and sit? It's very uncomfortable to read standing up! Anyway, the attendant read through my form again and pointed out that I had skipped over a section. I filled it out while he waited. I wondered why the attendant at the pre-sorting line hadn't noticed it, since I could have saved a lot of time by filling it out while I was in line 20. (Of course, it wouldn't have been easy, since I would have had to do it standing up.) Once I finished, he took my photos and slipped them into slots on a new form. A passport application requires two identical photos. He cut a sliver off one of them. But not the other. They were exactly the same size! Then, as I turned to go, I noticed that in the five or ten minutes that I'd been facing the counter, the seats behind me had become virtually empty.

Having finished, I walked out of the building feeling bewildered and, vaguely, like I'd been a ridiculous pawn in an incomprehensible human comedy. All of this being amusing because I was reading Kafka.

Sometimes the world conspires to make your literary experiences more vivid.

Slow Progress to the Score of Summer

I am still trudging along in this thesis. Sometimes it stops making any sense to me. I've worked the argument over so many times. Some days it is painfully obvious, and I'm afraid I'm really not contributing anything novel at all. Other days, it seems convoluted and contrived, and I'm afraid it's full of dead ends and unsubstantiated claims. Some days it drives me to distraction. Some days I am certain that this is my calling.

In any case, I'll hand it in within a week's time. Whether it's a turning point in my life, or just an eight month nightmare, it is soon coming to a close. Unfortunately, something as seemingly inconsequential as a letter grade will decide which way this goes. I'm sure I want to keep going to school, but I may shelve Heidegger for some time, lest I start writing like him. That ship may have sailed.

As I work away at it on a Friday night, my window open to relieve the stuffiness in this room, I can hear the sounds of cars bringing partygoers into the city. I can hear expensive shoes beating the pavement, and slurred speech creeping through the still night air, into my window, into my brain. A man is playing harmonica down the street.

During the day, I can hear children playing. On Sunday, if the weather is nice, I will sit here typing away to the beat of drums from the park as Tam Tams gets under way to mark the beginning of summer. At the worst of times, this is downright torture. But at least I have some distant company while I labour to finish this work.

I belong in the city. I am a people watcher, and now also a people-listener. If it gets bad, I will be a people-water-balloons-thrower.

Some Rhymes to Pass the Time

I wrote this because it's important to have a sense of humour about oneself. Ironically, it was about the same time that I realized I really want to pursue philosophy as a profession.

Cheers

"Cheers!" says a man
Holding up his glass and sloshing ceremony on his friends

Why cheer?
Why have I friends? To what ends?
Why gather in dankness and drink down the time?
What is time?
As it passes, as I pass, as we pass away
As it twists and turns and flies and burns
What are we?
What am I?
What is "I"?
The I, the eye.
What is? What is Being?
Is there anything? Can nothing be?
What is "What?"

What?

"Cheers!" says a man
And glasses clink, and we drink
And in a blink it's reasoned all away

Examined Life

"The unexamined life is not worth living." - Plato

Examined Life is a documentary by Astra Taylor. It is a series of ten-minute interviews with various contemporary philosophers in various cities. Notables include Peter Singer, Judith Butler, and Slavoj Zizek. Aside from being chock full of really interesting ideas, it is also an attempt to get philosophy out of the ivory tower and onto the streets. In each interview, the scholar is placed in an environment that somehow reflects his/her ideas. Singer is interviewed on 5th Avenue in NYC, discussing the moral implications of living the sweet life while others don't even have the bare necessities. Judith Butler walks along the streets of San Francisco with a girl in a wheelchair, and they have a conversation about the social construction of disability. In each interview, the subject and the camera never stop moving, which makes for some innovative cinematography.

I highly recommend this film to anyone with any level of interest in philosophy. It can be a teaser or a sampler for the beginner, or a fascinating mosaic of modern thought for the seasoned scholar. It is insightful, creative, and humorous. It is not by any means light, but all of these philosophers seem to have a great sense of humour, so you get a few laughs in the process.

This idea of reviving philosophy as a vibrant social activity, as opposed to a rigorous academic discipline, really struck a chord with me. While I love what I study, I often find myself wondering what the use of it is if it's so obscure and inaccessible to the common person. There are some great ideas out there, but few of them can be grasped without a significant background in the history of Western thought. On the other hand, bookstores are littered with pop philosophy, which is accessible, but often has to sacrifice the depth and breadth of its content. This movie presented a happy middle ground, resurrecting Socrates' idea that philosophy is a constantly evolving discourse, not a dogma immortalized in books.

Disenchantment

April. Snow on the ground. Enough said.

The winter funk funks on, and funks me over.

With every day of bad weather, I think of more summer pastimes: picnics in the park, beer on patios, reading a book under a tree, spontaneous drum festivals, trips to the farmer's market... I could not live in a warmer climate than this. In the summer, I think of winter pastimes. Each season is only as enjoyable as the anticipation for it. Contrast is the essence of life.