Indoor Kids

Outdoorsmen still carry iPods

My friends and I are are nerds. We're dyed in the wool, never surrender, cradle-to-grave nerds. All of us. Some are Depeche Mode fangirls, others have logged 1500 hours playing WOW, but we're all united by a love for tiny passions. We treat hardcovers like holy books, could recite the script of TMNT: The Movie in character, see the sun about as often as we see our parents. The most recent gift I bought for someone was a Mario Brothers themed chess set, a double whammy. No one has ever used the word "rugged" to describe anyone I know. Yet, strangely, a few years back we all took a trip to Yosemite National Park.

Possessed by some fiery and unparalleled drive, Jace decided it was our destiny to tame Half Dome and experience the wilderness. Can you hike in Chucks? Do they have 3G cell towers at the summit? Will my duvet fit in a tent? Then I shut up. The prospect of spending a week with my friends and dog ends all questions. To Yosemite!

Luckily, Jessica knew something about outdoors. She was a nerd, but also possessed demonstrable survival skills. How was I supposed to know that the fire would get that big? Seemed safe enough. Luckily Yosemite is still there.

Thanks to Jace's fastidious preparations, we ate like kings, hiked very little, and partied in our own special way. At some point he made an entire corn chowder from scratch. In the woods! I may have had a few too many root beers that week, but I don't regret a single one.

By and large, we're kids. We play childish games, eat at restaurants with plastic utensils, work at crappy day jobs, and have a total of zero children between us. But we love like Gods. We tower over negativity and depression. We love until the kettle can't scream any louder. Fun is in our blood; it unites our Venn Diagrams. People always say they have the best friends and always makes me smile. It isn't until they see us together that they clam up. For a week we stopped being indoor kids, and became outdoorsmen. You can take the boys away from the laptop, but you can't stop them from having fun.

*This post was inspired by the suggestion of "Indoor Kids v.Outdoor Kids" by Jessica Backofen. If you'd like to make a suggestion for future posts, do so here.

Tourist

I don't know whether it's my ambiguous ethnicity or dumb luck, but I seem to attract girls who love studying abroad. They're all obsessed with being in a country that isn't this one.  I love a good accent as much as the next guy, but I'm not sure I'll ever understand the desire. Give or take a monument, most places are exactly the same.

When I get on a plane it's because there is something concrete on the other side of the airport that I need to be a part of. I've flown to NYC to see Man... Or Astro-Man? do two nights in the village. I've made the trek to see Dostoyevsky's Notes from Underground and Aaron Sorkin's Farnsworth Invention on Broadway. I'd have traveled to Sioux City, Iowa if that's where MOAM was playing. NYC was not the destination, but the backdrop. I'd rather be at the mall with my best friend, Tim, than in Paris alone. He took a trip to Prague a few years back. People asked if he was excited to be in Europe to which he replied, "I'm going to visit the girl I love. If she was in Burma, that's where I'd be."

Traveling isn't supernatural. If you haven't found yourself in your city, and you're bored with who you are in it, you're going to be bored on another continent. I got a crystal ball. Let's check out your itinerary. You're going to eat shitty food because you don't know better, poke around the Nerf parts of the city, and get ripped off by a taxi driver.

Having grown up in a city abused by tourists and spent a fair portion of my life touring, traveling has lost all romance for me. I've been to every state except Alaska, and few different countries as well. I've been both host and parasite. Tourists treat cities like hotel rooms. They jump on the beds and steal shampoo. Like an anonymous forum posters, they feel safe knowing that they'll never have to face the consequences of their actions.

I'm all for finding yourself and discovering what you're made of. Save yourself, or more likely your parents, some money and sit in a comfy chair. Put your hands on your legs and spend a couple hours thinking about your life. Who do you want be? Who are you already? Are you running toward or away from something? That's what Tim used to ask.

Good friends. Adventures. I'm in favor of these things. Find things you love and chase them to the ends of the Earth. Don't go to the ends of the Earth hoping to find things to love.

*This post was inspired by the suggestion of "Traveling" by Tara Verderosa. If you'd like to make a suggestion for future posts, do so here.

S. Hannon

At some point in a man's life, making friends becomes difficult. Not impossible, but it plateaus after college. I don't know if they stop having the friendship draft or what, but men seem to take inventory of their team and stop actively recruiting. Maybe it just gets weird to ask a man to hang out. From the ages of thirteen until death, men hone their social skills with women.  Maybe if the moons align, and you both find yourself in the same room, you'll drink a beer together, but otherwise you're just two lonely cacti on opposite sides of the desert.

Then there are those people you have no choice but to be friends with. Friends that you should have had your whole life, but you hadn't met yet.

The four kids I hung out with in middle school all went on to be artists and philosophers. We'd never discussed our future, or even understood what it meant to major in something, but it's not a coincidence. Something in punk rock and comic books made us a similar breed. We discovered the same records together, we grew out of fads at the same time, we grew out of the same petri dish. Our friendship was inevitable. As adults, we're formed. Our minds are made up and we find companionship in relationships. We go on to love and lose, and in the process forget what it means to find friends. When we're really lucky, companionship finds us. It seeks us out, reminding us that there are people just like us in the world.

I met Shannon as an adult. He and I lived parallel lives. When he makes a Street Fighter II reference, I wonder how many times we crossed each other in an aisle at Toys 'R Us before we met. He is responsible for my respect for boxing and love for the Rocky saga. Blocking down aisles at Costco, he was my relationship therapist and in the booths of In & Out, he was a friend. He is the Sto-mach, S. Hannon, and on Halo, CoryMatthews.

Love you, Buddy.