The Glue That Holds Us Together

There are a lot of reasons that people come together and form close friendships. Cohesive groups can be built on a shared passion, neighborhood, tragedy, lifestyle, or hobby. I never put much thought into what brought and holds my friends together until someone outside the circle spoke to me about what brings his friends together. "No matter what," he said. "My friends and I all really try to treat people right." That struck me not only as an admirable trait, but also as an incredibly impressive distinction for a group of friends. Their dedication to that code must be really strong if it is what holds together their friendship.

What singular aspect, then, is responsible for holding my crew together? I couldn't pinpoint just one. By and large, we're conscientious: politically, socially, and environmentally. But that isn't what defines who we are. We also have an unparalleled passion for music, despite the rather wide canvas which encompasses our personal tastes. But that isn't a defining characteristic for any of us, either. We all share a taste for the absurd, a desire to bring people together to laugh and dance and eat, and a general love for life. But until today, I had not realized that this love for life presents a pair of attitudes that we all find rather difficult to balance. Perhaps this is what defines us as individuals and as a group.

On the one hand, I believe we are a group that loves every moment of happiness more than most. Our capacity for feeling good is simply greater than that of most others. To love laughter and the joy of your finer moments makes the anticipation of future adventures almost too much to bear. To love new experiences and yearn for them to the point that we drop everything for the chance to drive across the country on a scooter or teach English in Korea for a year (which has appealed not only to one of my friends, but three), is certainly a distinctive characteristic. Our thirst for new people and places carries us forward like a riptide. We start a life at a job, a school, a new city with precise focus, only to be drawn down the shore by the enticing possibilities around us. On ever-changing paths to the future, we allow ourselves to be carried forward by unknown forces.

But this love for life doesn't just draw us toward the uncertain future, it also hold us back. We share a strong sense of nostalgia. We look back and see moments of uncontrollable laughter, easy afternoons beneath sunny skies, and uninhibited hours of freedom in the universe we created. We recall bringing people together to dance, to grill, to marvel at fireworks and watch the reflections of our smiles in each others' eyes. When we find ourselves at a fork in the uncertain road to the future, the appeal of the past grows stronger. We know we can make our lives whatever we want them to be, so ever-present among the countless options before us is the possibility of recreating the finest of our memories and making an attempt at going back in time.

I have many conversations with friends about wanting to go back to where it all started -- be that Pittsburgh or Semester at Sea or Costa Rica -- and extend the lifestyle of our pasts indefinitely into the future. But I also realize that we're all thirsting to experience everything and fill our lives with new adventures. Could we really be happy living in a situation as familiar as one intentionally created to mimic what we have already seen and done?

I don't know how to balance these contradictory loves for the past and future except by moving forward into the unknown while holding on tight to the people who were there from the beginning. Places can't be carried with you, but people can. Even as they change and grow into ever more complicated creatures, people can be held close to help you carry the pure joy of the past into the wild excitement of the future.

I Get The Notion It's A Summer Rain...

Despite the East Coast phenomenon of chilly sogginess, summer is actually approaching. Just ask the people in the Northwest, who had record-setting heat last week, or the people in the South, who are dealing with it now. And as the summer days draw near, it's time for the year's biggest blockbusting movies. This week, it's all about the return of a whip-toting archaeologist. But before you dash over to your nearest theater and buy the last affordable popcorn, read What I've Learned From Dr. Jones, written by my good friend over at DraculaLovesYou.

Aimless In Wonder

I want to be so awed by the world that my life is pointed in all directions at once. I don't think aimless deserves the negative connotation that it has. One can be ambitious and aimless at the same time.

Ambition - the desire to achieve
Aimless - moving in no particular direction

I would never strive to be ambition-less. but as I see it, I can be aimless and still live a full and happy life. In fact, an aimless life seems to be a fuller and happier one that I imagine an "aimed" life would be. Aimless implies movement in one's life -- following a path without knowing your final destination, or even blazing a new trail without an endpoint in mind. Life should be lived like an afternoon walk in the forest -- taken one step at a time, with frequent stops to enjoy the view, applaud yourself for overcoming challenges, and observe the way your surroundings interact with your presence and can continue to thrive long after you've gone away. It has nothing to do with reaching a certain place or finding a specific thing; it's just about the journey. And to be so overwhelmed with wonder and awe that you cannot possibly pinpoint a goal other than to simply live, that is true success.

What's An Adventurer To Do But Rest My Feet...?

When I think back on my last few weekends, I see a series of rapidly moving, blurry images of DC. It's something like
trafficjammetrohockeyfriescrowdstreetfightfriends
beerrainmetrodancepartyfriendsmetrospanishsweat
parkinglotmetrorainstormfreezingconcertrainfreezing
dancepartyindianfoodskeeballtragedymetropizzabaseball

That being my mental state, I decided to force myself to slow down. After the Pirates/Nationals game on Sunday, which the Pirates lost sadly, I decided to avoid the crowded Green Line Navy Yard stop, even though I needed to get to Greenbelt to pick up my car. I figured I'd walk to the next stop or maybe go to Union Station, get on the Red Line, and then pick the Green back up at Fort Totten. I left the Navy Yard station at 4:30pm, and headed North. I didn't really know which street to walk on, I just new that if I walked towards the Capital, I'd eventually get to where I wanted to be. I found a sweet, empty Wendy's and bought a delicious chocolate Frosty shake (wow, Wendy's has come so far since I was a kid) and started merrily on my journey. I followed some other post-game pedestrians, and eventually found a sweet walking path under 395. I was a little weary, not being familiar with the neighborhood and knowing only that I was certainly not in the best neighborhood in which to lose track of myself. However, there were a lot of other baseball folks walking, so I figured I'd go with the flow.

Eventually, I found myself strolling past the Capital, which I hadn't visited since an ACORN-led protest in 2006. I forgot what a massively beautiful building it is. It seemed even more beautiful when I blocked out my knowledge of what happens inside. So I dawdled a little there, admiring all the foreigners and tourists excitedly taking pictures of the marble dome and view of the Washington Monument from a distance. I sipped some tepid, chlorinated water from a public fountain, and continued on a beeline path for Union Station. Only when I got there, I realized it was entirely too close to the Capital. I wasn't ready to stop walking yet. By this time, it was just past 5:00, and I figured the crowds on the Green Line would have dwindled. So I headed for Chinatown.

Again, let me remind you that I didn't really know where I was going. I just knew that if I got to 7th and G, I'd be near the Metro. I'm not too good at the whole NE, NW, SE thing that is required of navigating in DC. But I do have a pretty good sense of direction, even if I don't know what the streets I am walking on should be named. So I followed my instincts and ended up exactly where I wanted to be -- directly in the middle of an intersection of at least four streets, with no sidewalks in sight. Splendid. As I raced my way across the intersection Frogger-style, I paused for a moment on a median strip. A car approached, and I thought I saw the people inside waving. "What? Friendliness to strangers in DC?" No! Of course not. It was a carload of friends. "What are you doing here?" I screamed. It would have been more appropriate for them to ask me, seeing as they were at least enclosed in a vehicle and I was a flip-flopped pedestrian on a median strip at a massive intersection. "Do you maybe need a ride?" they asked, obviously entertained at my situation. I looked around. "Actually, that building over there is where my friend lives. I'll be fine." And with that, I sprinted across the last stretch of roadway and headed to 301 Massachusetts Avenue, NW, safe haven for the weary flip-flopped urban hiker.

After a half-hour chit-chat/water break, I was revived and resumed my trek, although from there it wasn't much of a journey. Within 10 minutes of leaving my friend's building, I was on a train headed to Greenbelt. But what an adventure it all was. Thanks to the sweet tools at MapMyRun. com I know my walk was just under 3 miles long. I think I passed through 3 different universes along the way. DC is one bizarrely diverse town. Pockets of this kind of people thrive amongst swaths of that kind of people. I was nearly ticketed for jay-walking by one cop and cheered on as I raced across a different street by another cop. What a strange town. It's nice to see it in the daylight at 3 miles an hour, rather than from underground at Metro-speed.

Map Maker?

Well, Clustrmaps just archived all my lovely red dots, so I once again have a sad, blank map with but one red dot -- which represents me. On the main Small Wonder page, click on the thumbnail map, then choose "maps archive" then select the link for the past year. This will show you a thumbnail snapshot of all 2100 views from the last year. It was a good year. I'll keep blogging. I like those dots.