Oversaturation

Using last week’s entry as a jumping off point, I decided to explore the implications of oversaturation on my particular reality. I use the word here (in the loosest of terms) simply to mean “too much-ness,” so I ultimately chose overcrowdedness as my topic as it seemed a plausible slant to take on the word.

I  considered Geoff’s comments about passiveness and the value we place on interactions and observed how overcrowdedness in New York City affects our behavior. Over the past few weeks I’ve noticed some trends in our behavior, specifically during the morning and evening commute, and our interactions can pretty much be boiled down to this: our acknowledgement of one another extends to staying out of each other’s way. It’s like everyone is running on autopilot or wearing blinders. They’re so preoccupied with not making eye contact or accidentally grazing someone’s hand that their sole focus becomes to get there (work, school, doctor’s appointment, home, whatever). And this seems unfortunate, because there are a lot of cool things happening all the time, and an unintended consequence of running on autopilot is that you tend to miss out on those things. On the other hand, is it all the stuff going on and the overcrowdedness that are over-stimulating people into autopilot mode? Probably. So I can see the value of turning yourself “off” during the commute thereby guaranteeing you a minimum of 45 minutes of mental peace and quiet, but I think we have to be careful. If you’re wearing blinders and are focused only on getting somewhere or getting something done, there’s a danger of viewing everyday life not as a series of experiences; rather, they become obstacles to our efficiency, and life becomes a list of tasks to be completed and checked off.

I'll close out with an anecdote. I was making my way from Midtown East to NoLita last Friday night after work. David Sedaris was doing a reading/book signing, and I had exactly 30 minutes to get from door to door. So I got off at the Spring Street subway stop and as I walked, I fussed around with my phone - set it to silent, coiled up my headphones - and I walked by what I assumed was a tree. That is until it moved and said in a startlingly baritone voice, "Hello." I looked up and realized it was a man on stilts wearing a very convincing costume. It also didn't hurt that he was standing next to a real tree making him fairly easy to miss, but here's the part that must have looked baffling to onlookers: I jumped, of course, and laughingly said to the man, "Holy shit, you're awesome." I kept walking because the bookstore was just across the street and around the corner, but not ten steps behind me walked another girl. I'm assuming she was also distracted because when the man repeated the process with her, she was startled enough to scream. And I wondered, how can that happen? How can someone be caught off guard by something that happened just a few feet in front of her not ten seconds ago?

~E