What’s in My Bag?
I am Derek Doherty. This is my 8th MET course. I live in Vancouver with my wife and two daughters. I am cheating a little with this exercise; constructing from memory the items in my bag that I used to carry with me when commuting to work on transit prior to Covid-19. I have not had much use for the bag recently and at some point over the last 18 months or so I did clean it out. The bag itself is part of my story. I bought it in Beijing in a market when I lived there with my wife, sometime before we had our first child. It has fallen in and out of favor with me over I would guess, perhaps, 15 years. We have moved several times since I bought it and it has spent many years stuffed in closets, but despite regularly thinking I should, I have never gotten rid of it.
The first thing that these items remind me of is that I do not like carrying things in my trouser pockets. Keys, wallet, headphones and work ID which might be safer carried in my pockets I still prefer to carry in a bag. There is always a receipt or two in one of the compartments kept because I think I should and then eventually discard. Sunglasses and sunscreen for the days when I might need them. A book for reading on the bus and train. I still prefer when reading a novel to have a physical copy, although almost all other reading I do on a screen. There are very often small items from my most recent dental visit; gifts given by the dentist that I promise to use regularly and stay in my bag untouched for months. Bike lights and energy bar, as I try to alternate between taking transit and cycling to work. Pens and a notebook that serves as my diary; moleskin because that’s what real writers use! I am an infrequent daily diarist. There are sometimes weeks or months when I jot down diligently each day my experiences and thoughts from the day before and long periods when not a word is written. A random envelope or two, sometimes a bank letter or pension statement, that I am intending to put into the office shredder. Lastly, a picture of one of my daughters, which is actually a Father’s Day card from my wife telling me that I am a good ‘Baba’ (my daughter’s name for me). Not pictured with the items is my mobile phone (used to take the picture) but it would be there too.
There are items in my bag that I need on a daily basis. My wallet contains Driver’s License, Credit Cards and importantly my Compass Card. Without my Work ID being admitted to my building becomes an ordeal. There are other items that simply give me comfort or pleasure, such as the headphones on which I listen to podcasts and music, the book I am reading and the picture of my daughter.
It would be easy to assume from the “texts” found in my bag that I am primarily an English speaker, living in an English speaking community. The Compass Card would indicate that I am a city dweller and someone who likely commutes to work. The novel would indicate that I am part of a literate culture where reading for pleasure is popular. Inside the cover a price is written in pencil indicating that this is a second hand book suggesting that trade in such books is still active. The fact that the novel is a paper copy when viewed beside the smart mobile phone (not pictured) might suggest that my formative reading experiences took place prior to the internet becoming commonplace. The receipts in the bag are from Home Hardware and given the list of items on them… wall hooks, newly cut keys…an archaeologist might conclude that the person has recently moved into a new home.
My work ID is an interesting text technology. The visible information on the card provides only my name, work number and company name, but the chip embedded in the card reveals much more, for example, when I started work with the company, the last time I visited the office, which parts of the office building I have access to and how much security access I have.
The diary would reveal thoughts and ideas that are often pretty mundane, hopes to be a better person, cyclical worries that ebb and flow, and attempts at savoring the life I live. It would be mortifying to me to have anyone else read it. But the writing sometimes helps ground me and get things out of my head. I think the diary would suggest that I live in a society where self reflection is encouraged. It might also, more cynically, hint at the fact that we live in an age when people sometimes think of themselves as the star in their own TV show; dramatizing their lives, mining moments for comedy or pathos. Some people choose to share this image of themselves very publicly online and some, like me, prefer to do it mostly in private and only a little online.