This is the bag I take to-and-from work every day (along with a little red backpack that’s a glorified lunch bag).  Its inventory consists of:

• The aids are quick fixes to tide me over until I get home again. Advil, sugar-free mints, Rescue Remedy (it may be a placebo), and water.
• I kept the miscellaneous receipt in case I needed to return a branch lopper that I bought last week. The OMG note is a reminder to call my cell-provider—it had been on my desk, but got shoved in my bag during the move at the start of the month.
• The cosmetics are there to help me look more put together. Chapped lips? Moisturizing mineral lipstick. Shiny face? Compact powder. Dry knuckles from fastidious hand-washing? Lanolin ointment.
• The sketchbook is where I jot down my ideas, designs, plans, and to-do lists. I made the vinyl stickers as demos for my Graphic Production class. They are also helpful reminders and mementos of the COVID-19 pandemic. Currently, there are two other stickers on the back. One is a smiley face that says NO WORRIES, and the other is a pink flame that one of my students gave me.
• I recently thinned my arsenal of pens but still carry a wide selection. Be it studious, creative, formal, or even digital, I have the right tool for the job!
• My wallet contains my ID and bank cards (especially necessary when cash is rarely accepted). I bought it in 2014 while teaching summer science camps in Haida Gwaii. I was also collecting insects that summer, thus the dragonfly.
• The laptop is a portal to connect, work, and create. It has some scars from a terrible mishap with the bag in question. The sticker on it is one of the first I ever made. Its a character from one of my favourite games, Oxygen is NOT Included.
• NOT shown is my phone, which was being used to take the photo.

Text Technologies

Besides a laptop and phone, there is no digital technology in my bag. Yet, much of the text was digitally created and then printed. The type on the aids’ packaging packs detailed information into a tiny space—such as the instructions on the back of the Advil bottle. The OMG* note was printed and assembled into a stack of sticky-notes and leaves enough room for some handwriting. The Candian Tire receipt was printed on thermal paper (which cannot be recycled) at the teller after I paid using my credit card. It states and states the time, location, items bought, prices paid, and the card used. Half of the receipt is advertising for the CT Mastercard and a prize-draw for giving feedback. Red text covers the back of the receipt, explaining CT’s return policy in both English and French. The art on the wallet and water bottle were also digitally created and then printed onto the product (faux leather and metal). This technique was also used on the cards in my wallet, and on the cosmetics (but those have long since rubbed off the plastic packaging).

(*officially mindless garbage)

None of the stickers were printed. I designed them on the on a computer using vector-software, and then cut them out using a vinyl-plotter machine. I cut each colour separately, and then “weeded” and layered them by hand. I created the “DON’T PANIC” type using holes in the other colours of vinyl (rather than sticking it on top).

The contents of my sketchbook and the note both use handwriting. Not cursive, mind you, but a quick and messy blend between it and printing. I copied some headings from digital photos and fonts. I wrote the note, and many of the to-do tasks inside my sketchbook, with a metallic gold marker. I started this habit to glam up the mundane. The sketchbook also contains printed photographs of students, nebulous mind-maps on readings, variations of logo designs, and concept art for a video-game.

What my bag says about me

My inventory paints a picture of someone who multiliterate: there is evidence of digital, visual, and game literacies. The laptop is a high-end multifunctional model (in juxtaposition with my budget smartphone). Except for the cosmetics, no surface is without some trace of imagery. The “DON’T PANIC” sticker is a reference to The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy crossed with the NASA logo. The sticker on the laptop and the contents of the sketchbook illustrate someone who is enthusiastic about video-games.

This all fits with how I present myself to the world. I like things to be aesthetic and functional, but even more I love it when everyday objects have a bit of character. As my partner described my new sidecut (shown below), “You look really cool, and then you go and Laura.”

 

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A post shared by Laura U (@sleepybirchtree) on May 13, 2020 at 7:13pm PDT

A History of Bags

4 years ago, my bag was a battered carry-on suitcase. It barely contained a massive black laptop (bought for having a graphics card, rather than a chip). My bag was bursting with different pens, pencils, and crayons, and a Wacom-bamboo tablet. A large glass water bottle nestled next to everything, and I prayed it never leaked.

14 years ago, my bag, a red-plaid purse with a shiny black strap, had no laptop at all. It held a shiny red Moto Krzr that allowed a whopping 30 texts a month. There was always a lot of candy, and a tiny notebook with a mini gel-pen shoved into its coil, and a an mp3 player.

24 years ago, my bag was a little white purse with a silver clasp and chain. It was filled with interesting pebbles and other “found objects”. There was also a crayon-coloured card specifying that I was licensed to drive a “rainbow van”.

I wonder if a future archeologist uncovering my bag would treat it with the same enthusiasm as some do for pots. They would likely deduce that it belonged to a teacher (given the lesson notes in the sketchbook and teacher-ID inside the wallet). If they were trying to understand this time, perhaps they would infer that the owner was mindful of climate change (the reusable water bottle. Or that the person it belonged to tried to use humour to deal with stress (the COVID-inspired stickers). It would be interesting to peek ahead and see if this blog post (and those written by my fellow Tech-Technologists) will be studied by archeologists in the future. Would they question my lack of hand sanitizer, or chalk it up as being due to the Great Shortage?