Well, this is probably as good a place as any to get started… Hello. This is me and my bag.

I like to bike to work, so my bag is durable, rigid-on-one-side, and waterproof so that I can hook it onto a rack that is attached to the back part of my bike and be sure that its contents will arrive with me relatively unscathed. My bag is a type of bag called a “pannier”, whose etymology I had guessed was French but whose origin I had not associated with donkeys or oxen. I suppose it makes sense; my bike is the equivalent of a “beast of burden” and the saddlebags draped over its rump help me carry the things that I figure I need to be both prepared for my journey and the activities at my destination.

I wouldn’t say that any of the items in my bag are all that remarkable or surprising for someone who irregularly commutes by bike – I have the luxury of working remotely, so maybe what’s more surprising is what’s not in my bag. Ever since I can remember I have always prioritized weight, and so given that my journey is less than 20 minutes door to door, I choose not to include a tire repair kit or water or tools in my equipment list. I have rationalized the excessive weight of a U-lock as a necessary evil, but most everything else is purposely minimal:

• writing implements – one of which is suitable for fabric or other atypical surfaces
• keys and security dongles for physical access
• emergency cash (albeit, what can $3 buy these days!)
• personal care items like a handkerchief, throat lozenges (that one could argue double as breath fresheners)
• wallet and cell phone
• lunch provisions (and I can tell you that the Banana Guard has elicited snickers on more than one occasion!)
• bungee and bendable fasteners in case extra cargo needs to be secured

In comparison to the subjects in Ellie Brown’s Bag project, I find my items’ “text” to be almost entirely limited to branding, with the exception of the critical health and financial information stored in my wallet and the (vast) digital information stored in my phone. The fact that the items in my bag don’t rely on text may be somewhat of a subconscious decision because my preference and inclination is to communicate visually. Whiteboards are my comfort zone, and despite all the positive affordances of remote work, I lament impromptu small-group ideation with a board and a dry-erase marker.

So what does it say about me when much of the text in my bag is obfuscated behind the shiny black screens of my laptop and phone? I suppose am comfortable with a variety of digital tools, and the multiliteracies they demand for their operation, but I acknowledge this facet with hesitation because I am weary of the omniscience of social media and the intents of its purveyors. It is a tension that has existed for almost twenty years; I recall being introduced to Facebook when it was being promoted by my cousin at UBC in 2008. And although many, many things have changed in the two decades since then, I believe the contents of my bag would largely be the same. And in some ways this provides relief for my apprehension that is instigated by our hyper-connected world, because I know that there are still physical artifacts that resist change.