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You’ve just realized you understand life perfectly. In fact you understand it so much that you believe you have the competence to coach others throughout their own lives.
Quit your job. Singularity. Exchange of favors. One to one.
A few years ago, in 2011, I first heard the term ‘life coach’… I was living in the US and although I didn’t quite understood immediately what was the purpose it was easy to figure out what it meant. This guy had quit his job and was a life coacher. More recently I was listening to a podcast and randomly the woman speaking said something about how she had also quit her job and was working as a life coacher.
I started thinking about this and about how we are gradually becoming more and more isolated, how we crave for support and advices. We Google 'how to’s’ and we expect an accurate explanation. We suffer from strange symptoms and the answer is there, through scary pictures that will most certainly state that we probably are in the first stages of some kind of cancer or disease, only after we actually go to a doctor and (hopefully and gladly) we most often realize it’s not that bad at all.
Deciding to think about life coaching as a symptom of our own obsolescence made me realize that while a grow more independent from each other, as most people find comfort by getting home and spending the night with multiple electronic devices that will somehow ease the fact that we in retrograde mode regarding the ultimate life experience that makes us learn.
Take all electricity out, disconnect from what reaches beyond your perimeter of physical existence and you’re left with a bunch of human faces around you that you might know.
We direct our gaze to hypnotic screens that will make us zone out and live permanently out of ourselves.
They should be called 'friends’ but you can’t because you’re paying them. They can’t be called 'shrinks’ because they probably won’t hold that degree. They are your personal uber driver, they are those squared representation of an unknown human with whom you might have friends in common on Airbnb, they’re the ones sharing goods over the Internet with strangers as long as you share yours too, they are the life coachers who will probably make you realize what you could do by yourself…
This process of (dis)individuation is a reflection of a growing network of nodes that beam their own light onto the darkness of a graph. Like a constellation of celestial (dead) bodies.
As the discussions on dinner tables span from verbs and nouns that gained status in the digital era it is important to be reminded of how mindful we must be.
We’re changing the landscape of human behavior and returning to old habits that we must have forgot somewhere along the path. We believe we’re doing something new while we’re just giving it different names.
The transition generation, the one that saw and left a different world behind, is suffering from acculturation, giving in into new formats without knowing how to question them. The consequence is one of living on a non-place. A non-place that resembles others in the past only this time we probably won’t leave a proof of our existence. The artifact, to be found by future archeologists, will probably be a huge glitchy remix, a continuous assemblage of anthropocentric representation made of fragmented versions of multiple realities… Which, in fact, is not very different from a ruin of the past only the material is not marble, or stone. The fossilization will be 3D printed…
Xenofeminism indexes the desire to construct an alien future with a triumphant X on a mobile map. This X does not mark a destination. It is the insertion of a topological-keyframe for the formation of a new logic. In affirming a future untethered to the repetition of the present, we militate for ampliative capacities, for spaces of freedom with a richer geometry than the aisle, the assembly line, and the feed. We need new affordances of perception and action unblinkered by naturalised identities. In the name of feminism, ‘Nature’ shall no longer be a refuge of injustice, or a basis for any political justification whatsoever!
in, “A Politics for Alienation” (http://www.laboriacuboniks.net/)
Genre is central to the self’s authenticity. The self can only be parsed as “authentic” in relation to a legible set of conventions. “It is the perception of repetitions that makes a work of art intelligible,” Sontag writes in “On Style.” When I am trying to be true to myself, I turn “myself” into a genre, with readily recognizable and repeatable tropes. I can never be authentic, only authentically generic. I can create and meet a set of established stereotypes of myself. Being oneself always means being a self-parody, and being a parody of oneself is the process of self-discovery. Self-parody precedes selfhood.
In 1914, an engineer sent away to reorganize a factory exchanges letters with his wife. As he tells her about his experiments in taylorism, she picks up bits and pieces of this method and applies it to her daily tasks at home. While he gets disappointed by the Taylor system, she becomes a true domestic engineer.
Mingling images of American institutional movies to extracts of handbooks on management from the 1900s and 1910s The Human Factor aims at showing the genesis of Taylorism and its main effects upon industrial societies. It is also a love story.