Through the Looking Glass: 12. The Evolution of the List

Friday, November 23, 2012

12. The Evolution of the List

The 'list' has been a stalwart of communication and simple reminder for many decades. Groceries, plans for the evening and appointment times were shared with ease and efficiency. Humanity, ever willing to 'fix something that wasn't broke', waded in and the evolution of the list began.

An aberration of the 'list,' sticky notes became a powerful force considering that they are the end result of a failed adhesive experiment. Defined as 'small sheets of paper with a non-permanent adhesive back,' these seemingly innocuous conveniences steadily increased their influence since their inception. They have acquired the ability to command our attention, alter our plans, change the color of our refrigerators and wake us up in a cold sweat from a sound sleep to reread them. 'Sticky Note' effort's to take over the planet were well under way.

The mutant beginnings led to evolutions that continue well into the present. Early shifts in these bizarre life forms included a metamorphosis into telephone answering machines. The power of the pen escaped out into the telephone lines. The result was an increasing number of reminders of things that humans had to do, places they had to go and people they had to contact. There are documented cases of severe dependency on answering machines for instructions thus delivered.

As technology progressed the mutation managed to keep up and increase their control over human activity. Evolving into hand held tape recorders they used a human beings own input to direct and control what will occur.

As pagers became more common one became cognizant that the 'list' had moved from paper through telephone lines onto magnetic tape and now travels freely through the airwaves. A plan evolved so that going fishing was changed into what ever caprice the beeps offered. There were fewer and fewer places humans ccould hide from these power hungry, little control freaks.

Cell phones and e-mail have all but sealed humanity's fate. Whether one is relaxing at home or at work, sitting on the throne or mounting a final assault on the north rampart of Everest the 'List' and its descendants have access to almost anyone at any time. Humanity finds itself at the mercy of a contrived convenience.

The time has come to reclaim our human nature... to exercise our right to forget... to revel in being unreachable... to exalt in being anonymous. Lighters to the lists and sticky notes and water pistols to the rest!!!!! Join the underground and help us reclaim our rightful place on the planet. (For more information on meeting times contact me at twisted@outamymind.com or leave me a voice-mail or a tweet.)

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Introduction

Having moved at least twenty-five times in fifteen years has opened a world of learning to me. In six decades, an education ranging from the coldness of large cities to the isolation of remote rural locations to the busybody gossip of small towns and the wonder of the prairie and it's ocean of grass have all left their impressions on me.

Recently I relocated to a small city in British Columbia. It touted itself as a historical, cultural, educational and, over-all wonderful, place to live. Once I was past the trees and the rocks, the heights and the hills, the water and the wind, I calmed down and was ready to look at the people I was sharing that space with.

Every location I have ever squatted has had it's share of characters. Players in the cities along with the wide range of tinfoil hat wearers and baggy pants skaters were a given. Pop up strangers at odd hours surprised me with their appearance in the middle of nowhere. Rumours of my serial killer past from neighbours I had never met never swayed me. The wonder of gazing on the effects of wind on the grass ocean interrupted by a landowner enquiring why I was leaning on his fence was oft forgiven.

In this new locale a variety of characters as I had experienced elsewhere was a given. The density and variety of them however gave me more surprise than I would have expected.

I had heard comments about this place being a time warp to the sixties. However I only saw few that , by their appearance, I could say lived through the sixties. What apparitions appeared were younger and more colourful than I remember from that vague decade.

Purple haired strong armed accordionists, heavy head shaved violinists clutching tiny instruments, winter coated scarf wrapped individuals in shorts and oddly calm people with large coffees wandered the streets.

They wandered in and out of new age crystal shops, expressed opinions on local radio, bought nothing but organic food. They played jazz on squeeze boxes, made strings and wood sing in ways not intended, talked to themselves as they tightened their scarves and became more serene with each sip of coffee.

Characters here are more concentrated than in any other locale I have ever lived. It is a point of interest as well as point of concern.

It remains to be seen whether I will be mugged with organic carrots, side swiped by hooligan mountain bikers, be harangued with advice on dressing warmly or kept awake nights by jazzy sounds from an errant squeeze box. Whatever the outcome I am certain I could find it in no other place on earth to explore these particular uncertainties.

Until I am transplanted again, I extend every new-ager and boarder, every subculture economist and spiritualist, every would-be and wanna-be my deep thanks for extending me the opportunity of educating myself one measure more.