There are millions of people in the world going through various trials which, however small, feel crushing. And, like all problems, we believe that a problem shared is a problem halved. I for one am terribly guilty of complaining about small tribulations which, by any standard of a ‘real problem’ I am lucky to be worrying about.
We all know the people – but just in case you are squinting at your screen, desperately trying to figure out what I am talking about, allow me to contextualize it with this screenshot from Twitter.
Know what I mean now? Good! Let’s get cracking.
My first world problems this afternoon were as follows: I had eaten too much at lunch and felt too full to walk into town to collect my dry cleaning because my dad handed it in a fortnight ago and forgot to collect it and I need to wear a jacket tomorrow to work in a different branch of the retail store I am employed by. (It sure is a hard life.) So I promised myself a medium skinny sugar-free-vanilla latte when I got there, and brought some sketching stuff to do in the café whilst I enjoyed my pretentious beverage.
My first world problem of the summer is that I have a place at one of London’s most prestigious art schools in September and I have to keep myself thinking of concepts for when I arrive since I’ll be left to do my own thing. (Again, I’m really suffering here guys…)
I encountered some more first world problems when I got to the café. The barista almost gave me full fat milk in my latte (we all know that the 100 extra calories would put me up at least three dress sizes instantly, God) then once I got my latte to the table an uneven base meant I lost about one fifteenth of my beverage, equating to about 30p of waste. And to think of all the starving Africans with third world problems I could have fed with that 30p… who I wouldn’t have fed anyway because I’m too busy worrying about my own latte spillage. Yep, you think I’m a dick, but as Andre 3000 would say – “I’m just being honest.”
Leafing through a leftover copy of the Sun, which was full of first world problems just as unexciting as my own, only you’re meant to care about the ones that make the papers, I decided I was better off trying to sketch some stuff around me. First off I drew a nice little old man who was also leafing through a paper.
My attention was being forced towards a conversation taking place between two brunette girls opposite me. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop (that’s a lie they were talking so loud it was impossible not to) but I did anyway.
Of the two, the prettier girl led the conversation, her friend occasionally managing to throw in a contributing sentence here or there – you know the conversations, don’t pretend that you don’t. We’ve all had or heard them.
I have mentioned in a previous blog that I find myself acting in a slightly (non-sexual) voyeuristic manner, and it has surfaced in art projects such as the one below where I, in disguise, photographed strangers whilst being photographed.
After a while I thought, fuck it, what these girls are saying is gold. And I couldn’t stop myself.
Try to view and read this as handwriting as it has far more flow and charm – but here are the transcripts too. The ellipses are where they continue to talk but my hand couldn’t keep up with their mouth, so naturally there are parts of the conversation missing.
I don’t know why I’ve never been to that ABC before … not bother going back to Bicester.
What do you think you’re gonna do with the summer though?
All I want is 9 to 5 office work Monday to Friday … Eight pounds an hour or something … it’s not just I owe my mum money but I need to buy so much shit … problem is, I was so desperate to have a really sociable summer … I don’t wanna be sat around … this is the thing like, I have so much I wanna do and no money … thought about … it’s my own fault, I can’t complain, it’s my fault.
Once I got bored of writing, I decided to draw them… but one of them must have noticed and suggested that they depart, so I only got a head and leg and completed sketching the sofa when they left.
Okay, so I’m going to step back for a second here. How many of you think I am a total creep? I would be interested to know. None of this was recorded in a malicious way, I was genuinely charmed by the conversation they were having. I wish I could hear myself back, troubling over what to wear at a weekend, or how many squats to do in a workout, or whether I’m drinking too many carbonated drinks. The reason I was charmed is that these are problems, real problems to somebody, and yet they barely cross my mind because I’m so busy worrying about my own spilt lattes and wobbling tables.
Most important of all, these girls first world problems helped solve one of mine: I now have a starting point for a project this summer. It appeals to every aspect of my curious and slightly inappropriate nature. I will be looking into the legality of the entire thing, but I will not be capturing actual voices or pictures of the individuals, rather they will be portrayed in (very bad) drawings and short snips of handwriting.
Now tell me – am I a terrible person?
Disclaimer: I do recognize that unemployment is a more serious problem than a wobbly table.
such a cool concept, very sophie calle-esque;) you're a great writer too! trying to think of a summer project myself, no idea where to start yet though.. it will come! & you're not a terrible person at all, keep going with this ideaaa!!
ReplyDeleteAw thank you :) I need to get back into a cafe with loud enough people, it's the hardest bit of all!
ReplyDelete