Friday, August 12, 2011

The Evolution of We

I was born on January 1st in the year 1982. I went to 12 long years of Catholic school. I played soccer obsessively. I grew up across the street from a farm. I spent winters exploring area ski resorts. I went to college at RIT. I decided to work part time at a bike shop and a running shop while I figured out my post-college plans. I have moved no less than 6 times in the past 7 years. I hiked across the Alps. I’ve had 15 jobs. I have been many places, done many things, and for almost thirty years, I’ve been an I. I’ve used singular pronouns, like “I,” “me,” “my,” “one, please.”

At some point, I remember introducing the word “we” into my vocabulary on a more regular basis. Suddenly, “we” were going for a bike or going dancing. A friend once asked, “who is this ‘we’ – you got a mouse in your pocket or something?” We was a silly way of creating the illusion of commaradarie; togetherness. I am an I. I was born alone and I’ll die alone and this “we” stuff seemed as ridiculous as a mouse in my pocket. Suddenly though, my view changed.

These days, we go to dinner. We do the dishes, we debate, we laugh, we play games, we watch movies, we play with guinea pigs. We are moving to Pittsburgh. Sometimes I don’t know what this means – becoming a we. Some people do it naturally, willfully, with joy. For others the process is more awkward and bumpy. There are days when the w word flows freely from my lips as if I have always been a we. Other days I’m an I again and forget to tell the other party about evening plans.

When we find a partner (said as if it was something we’ve been searching for since the day we were born), we all react differently. Some sigh with relief, others dance on beaches in delight, and others dig their heels in, grasping firmly to the illusion of independence that they’ve been hiding behind for most of their adult life.

When you’re a we, some things are easier. Half of the we can do the dishes after the other half cooked the dinner. You can dance to slow songs without drawing too much attention to yourselves. You can share the driving and the burden of pain. You can take care of each other when you’re sick.

When you’re a we, some things are harder. You have to make choices taking into account an individual who, unfortunately, cannot yet read your mind. You can’t assume the other half wants to have an activity-filled evening. You have to share the bed.

We help each other with problems, groom each other, move furniture to prepare for a party. Being a team is essential, in my opinion. Outdoor activities with a partner also makes it a lot more fun. You can play silly games outloud and laugh and talk and pass the time as you trudge up hill, one tiring step after another. Being a we isn’t necessary in this case, but it certainly makes it more enjoyable.

So, the other morning, when Liz and I were barely awake she said, “You’re really smoking me out of bed,” I laughed, sleepily, and rolled over as far as I could to accommodate her presence in her bed. The next day, over dinner, which I made while she worked and did dishes, we laughed about her comment which came from a place of love, morning delirium and a desire to have this we thing last longer than a few months in a shared bed, as uncomfortable or delightful as that may be.

Last week, we danced in her living room to “Home” by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros (much to my insistence) with smiles on our faces and love in our eyes. It didn’t make the pain of the end of a tough day any less difficult, but it did make it a bit more enjoyable.

As I evolve into a we, I realize that it will make many things easier. It also might make some things harder. It will, however, hopefully make life more fun and filled with love. We’ll see how this move in goes, but having witnesses to our sometimes funny and weird lives is something I think 'we' both look forward to.

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Out of touch

I feel our society has reached a collective state of nomophobia, a fear of being out of electronic communication. Think about it. What's the first thing you do when you get home or have a free moment? Often I find the answer is checking e-mail, phone messages or your social network of choice. We fear missing something or being left out of a virtual conversation. But can you really blame us? It's our nature to be social animals. We just happen to have the ability to have a conversation with anybody at any time now. The issue is there isn't a schedule for this anymore. It percolates into every moment of our daily routine. In the past you could anticipate communication at certain times. Communication is so interconnected into our lives now, which ultimately will advance our culture and our ability to do more with less time. In the same breath you can't help but mention the anxiety this puts on many and the distraction from productivity it gives some.

In short, we still do stuff. We still work, have to drive, play with our kids, go out with friends, work on our houses. This 'stuff' is full of many more interruptions than before, which transitionally can be rough but in the long run we adapt. We develop methods to more quickly process information and alter our attention from one thing to the next. Interruptions are something we can deal with. What we have trouble with is the insecurity the expectation to constantly be available creates. While we're taking part in other activities we wonder what else is going on in our virtual world. These thoughts can create anxiety if an activity takes too long or we suspect we're "missing out". What if we actually cut ourselves off from communication for an entire day. I wonder if this would increase anxiety or create peacefulness akin to meditation. Either way, we should all just relax and free ourselves from the pressure to always be in touch. I'd rather have quality over quantity any day.

Nippletop et al

Rochester Winter Mountaineering Society
Colvin, Blake, Nippletop, Dial

Feb 25-27, 2011

Leader: Greg Buzulencia
Climbers: Neal Andrews, Dave Wideman, Gregory Chambers

Short story: An engineer, graduate student, nurse and event planner walk into the mountains. They climb and head out the following the day. My apologies to those anticipating a joke, I couldn’t come up with a witty enough candidate.

Long story: On Friday February 27th, 2011 Dave and I left Rochester after a quick and heavy snowstorm. Most of my coworkers didn’t even make it into work that day, but by the time we left the roads were clear and the skies sunny. We stayed the evening in what is now a posh Maple Leaf Motel after many renovations over the years. I might even recommend taking it off of RWMS’ list, were it not for the discounted rate the proprietor offers us. I’m genuinely concerned that Marriott will want to buy out this property to stake their claim to the jewel of the Adirondacks, Schroon Lake.

Saturday morning Dave and I converged on the other half of our party, Greg and Neal, at the Noonmark Diner. At 6:30 in the morning Neal is reminiscent of Hans Solo in the Star Wars cantina scene where he slyly informs Luke Skywalker he can take him to the places he’d like to go (and perhaps some places he’d prefer to miss). Greg C. was eager to continue a week long sabbatical from graduate work to climb mountains with Neal. Dave and I just wanted to consume calories for the trek that promised not to lack in vertical movement. Hitting the trail around 8AM, we made it up to the campsite on the Gill Brook Trail after Dave led a blistering pace up the Ausable Rd. Lucky for our group we had a handful of enthusiastic trailbreakers ahead of us, stomping down the 15” of snow that fell Friday. We arrived at Colvin’s summit exhausted, but happy. Greg and Neal felt fresh and continued on to Blake, while Dave and I headed back for a little R&R at the campsite.

Sunday morning we awoke to 4 more inches of snow and typical winter temperatures in the 10 degree range. Dave decided he wanted some time alone with our campsite (we suspect he made friends with the local gaggle of pine martens that encircled our campsite). Greg C., Neal and I slowly but surely slogged our way up Nippletop via Elk Pass, kicking away at 20” of untracked snow. Neal enjoyed the trail breaking so much he insisted on leading us all the way up Nippletop. Once atop the peak the decision was made to float downhill along the ridgeline to Dial. This ridge was an enjoyable hike with snow drifting 3’ feet plus in spots, making a soft cushion for our moderate descent. Once atop Dial we decided to navigate our way to the campsite via bushwhacking. We gleefully greeted a couple grumpy French Canadians on our descent toward Bear’s Den before darting off into the woods. Our trajectory took us within 100 yards of the campsite and we soon rejoined our foursome to head back to for the weekend. We arrived back at the car in time to eat a relaxed dinner before parting ways.