Tuesday, December 20, 2011

People, Perspective, and Postmodernism?: A Semester in Review

When I was pulled off the Appalachian Trail and into a whirlwind of organizing Pre-Orientation food pack out and feeding a bunch of leaders in the week leading up to Pre-O's, I had planned on writing a last trail journal entry describing the strangeness of being swept up into that pace of "normal" life that is so much faster than hiking the trail. The problem was I was too busy and too tired to ever sit down and write that journal entry. I started blogging my trail journal entries and when I finished posting those in October, I planned on writing another blog post to reflect on those posts and to note how I was swept back into "normal" life. The problem was I was too busy and too tired to ever sit down and write that post. That state of existence pretty much sums how I felt all semester: I was too busy and too tired to __________. I take full responsibility for putting myself in that situation. I'm the one who chose two research classes, a studio art class, and a class slightly heavy on reading, in addition to working quite a bit. And I'm also the one who was too stubborn to not do everything I was supposed to to prepare for classes, even when the wiser part of me said I should really just go to sleep. There were times during the semester when that part of me that insists on doing everything to the fullest extent possible confronted the part of me that keeps an eye on important things like sleep, nutrition, and mental relaxation, and the confrontation wasn't nice. On the one hand, a good trip leader is continuously checking in with the group and with herself to make sure everyone is hydrated, fueled, and blister free. That's important to me, so I wanted to value the decisions that I could make in the best-interest of my well-being. On the other hand, the driven part of me knows that if I don't follow through strongly with whatever I'm doing, I'll look back at it and regret not going all the way. A good runner can push to the edge, even though it's uncomfortable, and stay there until the race is over. That's important to me as well. 
This confrontation of the well-being consultant and the gun-ho shoulder coach made me question my past assumption that being insanely busy all the time was my perfect state of being. It's not that I want a bunch of free time, but I have to come to value more the opportunity to go into more depth with the things that I do, the opportunity to really focus. But that runs up against my love for wayyyyyy to many different things. I think at the end of last fall semester I wrote about how I was excited that I believed I could combine a lot of my passions. I was very optimistic then. Which is not to say that I'm not now, but I am somewhat amazed at the energy and excitement that exudes from that writing. Perhaps I should have read and absorbed that energy and excitement during this semester when I was continuously worn out and beginning to lose sight of the "why" behind my actions. As the semester came to a close I began thinking about what I might write in my review of the semester. In the past, I have identified themes that have developed in classes and beyond, yet this semester I was having a hard time finding a strong, cohesive thread onto which I could grip. Typical. Just so typical of this semester to behave like that. Just as we spent the whole semester learning about the different ways anthropological theorists have conceptualized culture and then finished off with Lila Abu-Lughod's writing about the problem with the concept of culture and how treating a "culture" as bounded and cohesive fixes differences between the self and other, I've spent many moments looking back on a period of time (i.e. a semester) and have used the time unit to bound it and identified major themes to make it cohesive and now, I just can't seem to do the same thing with this semester. This could in part be because the nature of my study is such that it is no longer little sets of semester long foci, but rather a shift to ongoing research. Nonetheless, it makes me laugh that when learning about postmodernism the thought came to mind--"Well, postmodernists may say that the time of modernism is over, but talk to anyone from back home and their understanding of the world is clearly rooted in modernist assumptions. Postmodernism may live in academia, but not necessarily elsewhere" but now I can't help but analogize the disjointedness of my life to the disjointedness of postmodernism. And so what do I write about if there is no overriding theme of the semester? I supposed I could go into detail about postmodernism, but to be entirely honest, I've done a fair amount of that in the past week and a half with a final paper for my methods class...and I'm not quite in the mood to be doing it again so soon. Nonetheless, in the spirit of the way the semester has been, I offer not an analysis of the semester in order to spin a thread of thematic lessons, but a series of snippets that highlight the feel of what makes Bowdoin a community filled with wonderful people. I don’t know if it will be an effective way to portray the semester, because so many of these instances may primarily have meaning to me because of the memory and feeling they bring back. But, whatevs (as they say in the east), at least I can read it and think fondly about the importance of people in my life.

“Face it D, you’re a theory nerd. We all know it.” “So you’re going to make me come out, huh? I was a closet theory nerd, but I guess it’s not a secret now.” “Danica. Let’s be real here. It’s obvious.”

“Did you know a person should be hugged at least eight times a day?”

Competitive hugs with the person living my alternate reality.

“The last two things Danica has said to me is, ‘Have you felt like stabbing yourself today?’ and ‘You remind me of a duck.’”

Bisbee impersonating last-year’s Danica who spent wayyyy too much time in the cold tape room at late hours during this year’s sculpture opening.

“Why don’t you come in tomorrow with a list of the things you’re doing and your schedule and I’ll help you narrow it down.”

“Science!”

Friends who will wake you up after a 10 minute nap at 2:00 in the morning. I’ve finally joined “the club.”

“What combination are you? Oh, you’re INTJ. That’s obvious. We know our brethren.”

“D-money! What’s up?”
“Move your chin down just a bit,”  “I’m sorry. I guess I just have a defiant posture.” When he’s done drawing, I take a look. “Wow,” I say, “I expected to dislike a drawing of myself as much as I dislike photos of myself, but it actually…it…” “It makes you feel beautiful?” “Well…I couldn’t go that far…but yeah, I guess so.”

 “We’re twins. We’re basically the same person, can you tell? We look exactly alike.”
“Hi, how can I help you?” asks the woman who makes fried eggs at Moulton. “Um…I know this is a weird request, but can you start saving your egg shells for me?” Not quite the “over easy” or “over hard” answer she was expecting.
“Bisbee, how can I be of best help right now?” “Get out of here. Go take a nap.”
During brunch while I’m frying eggs. “You’ll be fine on the test. Just think of it this way, taking a test is like cooking an egg.” “…” “There are one-hundred and one ways to cook an egg.” “…Sooo you mean there isn’t just one way to do well on a test, but a lot of different ways to get there?” “…yeah, that’s it. Exactly.”
Contra dancing with the person “whose soul I have looked into.” (and couldn’t stop laughing both when we were contra dancing and when we were told to hold eye contact without knowing each other the year before.)

Planning the Banff trip. Interviewing for the Banff trip… “So, it all started on Facebook…” and “I mean…I think we’re all qualified in different areas, so depending on the situation I think different people will take the lead. It’s not set in stone, and I think that flexibility is a strength.” “…” “I mean…you have to admit, Danica has sort of this presence.” *awkward moment*
“You give the best hugs.”
“I hope things are going well. It seems like you’ve had some pretty intense last couple of weeks—yes?”
“Yes, yes, I think I like the spackle on the wood. It looks like icing, doesn’t it? What do you think Eggs?” “Yeah, I like the icing. It really takes the cake.” Bisbee groans. “That was not fresh, Eggs, really not fresh.” He turns away thinking we’re done. “But Bisbee,” I say, “I’m not supposed to be fresh—I work with egg shells.” “Alright, two for two, you got any more?” 

“I can come help if you want, you know, ‘cause manual labor is my middle name.” “I do know. Manual labor is your first, middle, and last name.”

Roomie dinner.

After I continuously get headaches after laughing. “We’ve figured it out—you’re not allergic to gluten. You’re allergic to happiness. It just happens that you don’t feel well when you eat gluten because everything with gluten is happiness.”

“[Insert any phrase here.]” “That’s ‘cause you’re a man-hater, R----.”

“The cruise was canceled. Apparently the boat won’t start. This is bonus time, though—time where you had something scheduled so you couldn’t have done anything else. Go home and take a nap.”

“So I’d come down to the room when I was leaving to make sure the kids had turned out the light, and I’d see the light on and think, ‘Oh somebody left the lights on again,” so I’d go in there and turn out the lights and then I’d hear this voice, ‘Please sir, can I have some more porridge?’ And I find Eggs in there in the cold in shorts shivering away with the tape.”

“L. You have bells attached to your belt.” “Well, yes. It’s the holiday dinner. Duh.”

“Nobody say the word. We want to pretend it’s not looming after this meal.” “What word?” Pause. “Studying…”

“Baby beluga in the deep blue sea…”

Post-meditation class, leaning against M—in an immobile position with eyes closed. “Danica looks like she’s gone to another place right now…” –B.

“Have you been getting outside?” “Um, no. I haven’t been going on or leading Outing Club trips and rarely find time to get outside in other ways.” “Get outside. Go. Now.”

“I allowed myself two days off during the break. It was a total mistake.”

“I don’t get Bowdoin Logs. They are just ice cream rolled in cookie crumbs.” “Cheap ice cream rolled in cookie crumbs.”

 “Beneath the pines, of dear old Bowdoin, we’re slingin’ the ink and kiddin’ the profs along.” (along with the dance and laughing)

“Your life just always has something interesting to dissect.”

“Every day we matlabbin’” or “Every day we filterin’” We work in the hood.

“Gluten Nacht!”

“I don’t want to do work. I want to hang out with you.”

“It’s the eggs that really wow me.”

Strange look from a professor when I come to class in thermal long pants, 3 jackets and a winter hat. “I know it’s weird, but I can explain. I went surfing this morning.”

Writing Conferences

“I hope you are going to relax now and not go do work.” I stutter a bit replying, “Well, I mean, I was planning on going and getting some work done tonight.”  “*Sigh*” “It’s almost the end of the semester, though, right? So not too much longer now...though I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this up.” “I’m not sure how long you can keep it up either.”

“You pulled a Danica again…” (too many fried eggs on the line)

“Time is always—or at least almost always—an independent variable.” “Unless you’re Doctor Who…”

“Do you have the will to live?”

“Are we good?” “No, you’re great—go team and go home.”

“You’re wearing pants?!?!”

“I think Faulkner once said that good writing means killing your favorite children.”

“I understand what you’re getting at. I just want to do it all!!”

“It’s good to see you happy again.”

“I guess we just live life in the periphery. So if all of us in the periphery got together for our own social gatherings would be no longer be in the periphery? Or would be spontaneously combust because we’d be walking contradictions.”

“Do I need to keep N. away from the tilt at all times?”

“Hi there. We’ve just finished planning the rest of S’s academic career.”

I learned a lot this semester—in academic areas, about the importance of maintaining a Big Sky Country perspective on life (i.e. how things aren’t necessarily as big and in control as they seem if you are able to see the depth of the picture), about balancing physical and mental well-being with making the most of a learning situation, about the importance of getting outside and being active for my own sanity, about how much I love the people around me, and much more. I would venture to say that this semester is the one in which I have “struggled” the most, but looking back on it, it was so fantastic—a situation in which I had an incredible love for everything I was doing and for people in my life, a feeling which I wish I had caught more sight of during the semester, but it is enough to look back and know that it was a time and place that pushed me to grow much more than an easier situation would. I think that a lot of meaning was gained by beginning to know a variety of people on a more holistic level. I see that process as one in which I simultaneously want to engage in a meaningful relationship in which participants know each other beyond single facets but also feel very vulnerable in that to let one know you are struggling is to risk a misinterpretation of who you are and who you set out to be.
In some ways thinking back on these little instances of my semester experience, I can identify themes…I suppose that contradicts what I said earlier about the lack of an overriding theme, but I standby my original statement that I didn’t recognize a thread developing throughout the semester. The drawing together of the importance of perspective and people is something that arose after the semester, when I had the time and energy to extract myself from the almost-constantly-working, dedicated-yet-exhausted self who navigated the semester. Two of the greatest successes of the semester were the process of bringing to consciousness the geographical underpinnings of my perspective on the minutiae of my life and using a geological feature metaphor to maintain a sense of the scale and importance of things during insanely exhausting times, and the recognition of the value of people and relationships with people. I laugh again because back in the day I used to be a bit of a cynic about people, and now I just can't help but love people and appreciate the people with whom I come in contact throughout my everyday life. Perspective and people are what have come out of the semester not because they are a new way of thinking or new aspect of my Bowdoin experience, but because I think they were challenged this semester, sometimes pushed out of the way by competitors and regaining awareness about each was vital for making this immensely exhausting semester still an immensely positive adventure.
A little something my coach wrote me a few years back sums up how I think I had to learn to live this semester. It highlights both the joy of pushing to be the best you can be, the human element of the relationships that are present in everything you do, that you can choose to have fun, and that the outcome doesn’t influence the value of an experience or process. I’ll leave you with that.

            “Remember to run with joy today. Enjoy your surroundings, the competition, and the gift of running. Cherish your teammates and encourage them to be their best. Choose to have fun, and when it’s all done, we’ll hug and be thankful no matter what the outcome.” -Coach

Saturday, October 15, 2011

The Appalachian Trail, Day 24


August 15th, evening
Mission Accomplished!! Despite the trepidation I felt at the thought of doing the Mahoosuc Notch with a big pack—which was quite unfounded considering I’ve already done the Notch as a day hike so I knew what the terrain was like—I set forth in the pouring rain to accomplish the Notch and the Arm of the great Mahoosucs. After a rainy filler morning and a fun size Snickers bar from Four Eyes as the Full Goose Shelter, I snarfed down a fruit and nut bar and hit the beginning of the Notch at about 12:30. I learned very quickly that traversing the Notch is a weighting game. For one, you have to pay attention to the weight of your pack and where it is pulling you, but more importantly you can use weight and attention to where you are directing your weight to create foot/hand holds where there is only smooth, wet rock. This technique is kind of fun because it means strategic shifting, swinging, and stretching to slow motion pinball your self through a boulder playground. It is said that the Mahoosuc Notch is “the most difficult mile of the Appalachian Trail,” but I can think of many other miles that felt more challenging, like the Southside of Moosilauke or the final stretch up the Kinsmans. I guess it could be the most challenging section psychologically what with convincing oneself to take big steps/climbs/swings across/over/under abysses created by all the fallen boulders. If you let it get to you.
            With a mindset of the section being fun, the scramble is quite enjoyable. After the Notch I had to climb the Arm, which a man in a yellow jacket going south told me “it was horrible.” I didn’t think it was all that bad, but I’ll give him the fact that going down would be more difficult. Now I’m chilling in the Speck Pond Shelter—it’s rather crowded since I think some people zeroed here and some of them are kind of grumpy. I had a wonderful dinner of split pea soup—perfect for a rainy day—and since I got into camp so early, I hardly know what to do with myself. I could write more, but I’m actually really cold, so I’m going to do some jumping jacks or something. But, man, what a day! I may be short, but I rocked the Notch in 2 hours with a huge pack, wet rocks, and while singing. A great feat indeed!
Not the notch, but before it.


Friday, October 14, 2011

The Appalachian Trail, Day 23


August 14, evening
Maine! Oh yes, I know I told myself I wasn’t going to pull a 17 mile day, but I ended up leaving Gorham earlier than I expected—it was making me antsy—so when I hit Gentian Pond at 2:40, I kept going even though I was tired. And here I am at Carlo Col Shelter in MAINE! I’ve walked (and occasionally slid and scrambled) over 315 miles! Of course I’m not done yet, but, mentally, finishing another stat is a milestone. I know my muscles will be mad tight in the morning—17 miles wasn’t a great idea—but maybe that’ll be my motivation to stretch. Luckily for me, I have extra dinners due to my time in hut-land, so tonight I got to eat 2 dinners! What a deal! I’m awfully tired though…highs, lows, and angels? My low was the multiple false summits of Mt. Success. My high was the accomplishment of passing the state line and eating the last of my dehydrated sweet potato (rehydrated of course). My intimidation of the day were some cliff ledges as warm up for the Mahoosuc Notch. My angel? This may sound odd, but in some ways, myself, for encouraging myself to go the longer distance, but also paying attention to hydration, fueling, feet, etc. and knowing when to take a break to address those issues. Tired. Bed now.
Goodbye New Hampshire! Hello Maine!

Mahoosuc Notch warm-up?

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

The Appalachian Trail, Day 22


August 12th 13th, midmorning [I wrote the wrong date and didn’t figure it out ‘til later]
I think now I understand. It’s already midmorning and I’ve only gone about 1 ½ miles due to the delay of waiting for quests to leave so I could sweep out the bunkhouses. When I found out this would be my task last night I wondered why, out of all the chores that had to happen over the course of dinner and breakfast, they were giving me one that meant I wouldn’t leave until 9:30 am—3 hours past my usual departure time. Surely they know thru-hikers like to get an early start and therefore make them wait to do work simply to irk them, knowing that the hiking time is a more valuable currency to a hiker than having to wash dishes or something? I wouldn’t put it past the croo, since the hutmaster seemed rather cold toward me once I told her I was northbound. It seems like if all these things have to happen, it shouldn’t matter whether we do dishes or sweep bunkhouses. Except when I finally was allowed to go sweep the bunkhouses, there were wayyy to many dustbunnies and the like for them to have been swept recently, so it began to make sense, especially after that task had been suggests at other huts: bunkhouse weeping is not done everyday like the rest of the chores, but infrequently, perhaps only when they can lure a thru-hiker into doing it. It was quite frustrating to be help up so long just to sweep bunkhouses in return for not being allowed to come inside until 8:00 pm and getting kicked out in the morning at 6:30 until 8:00 am and waiting around for several hours and not even really given food in return. I get that I’m not a paying guest and therefore don’t get what others get and I get that they are “doing me a favor” by letting me stay and are under no obligations to do so. However, I just kind of wanted to be treated like a human being. I was nearly in tears (of frustration) when I finally left b/c all I really wanted was to maybe have a conversation with somebody or be thanked for my help. It’s really amazing what a huge difference it makes for someone to recognize and appreciate your effort (J------ did at the last hut, this croo did not). This fact is by no means new news—I’ve been aware of it for years and have tried to get to know and thank the people who provide servies throughout my everyday happenings, and this isn’t the first time I’ve been on the receiving end of being ignored, but it still served as a reminder of how crappy it feels to be treated like a service machine. I wonder if the croos are sometimes treated like that and don’t like it so maybe they get bitter about it and do the same to passing thru-hikers, even if sub-consciously [especially because thru-hikers are so easily seen as celebrities by guests and the croo is seen as service]. They always introduce themselves and talk about themselves at dinner [to the guests], seemingly in attempts of making guests recognize them as real people. Anyway, to be entirely honest, I really disliked my stay at Carter Notch Hut and I’m becoming increasingly ashamed of having become an AMC member. I recognize that I made the wrong decision and should have stealthed last night. What exactly was my reasoning behind staying there? When I am all alone I am not lonely, but when I am surrounded by people and treated as invisible, I feel very very lonely. Hopefully I can out run the people today and maybe run into some thru-hikers. I could say that I regret my decision, but I also think it was good to make the “wrong” decisions (especially where the consequences aren’t dangerous) because it means I have to practice one of the most challenging things for me and that is letting go of my own mistakes. It’s easy to forgive poor treatment and resolve to double my efforts to appreciate other people’s labor, but it’s difficult to turn off the repetitive voice that berates the choices I make. I could have done this or should have done that…Ha, so I’m glad this little work for stay fiasco happened so I can practice letting that voice go. But then is that cheating if I become glad about the decisions does it negate the possibility of practicing letting go of the negative voice? [Or maybe deciding to see it as practice is simply a technique for letting it go?] If anything at least I’ve had my hut experiences in the Whites and know that I’ll steer clear of them as much as possible when I thru-hike.
Well, the sun is shining and I’ve got another 12ish miles to go today, so enough written contemplation and on to hiking!

August 13th, evening
How far away both spatially and temporally Carter Notch Hut feels now! Despite my late start, I got to Rattle River Shelter by 6:00. However, the high quantity of bugs and the trashiness of the shelter motivated me to go 1.6 to Route 2, which takes me to Gorham. I actually didn’t want to stay at a hostel tonight since it’s clear and a full moon, but having gone the extra couple miles will make it easier to reach tomorrow’s goal even with resupply. It was an interesting day. It’s the first time I’ve been invited to smoke a join and drink beer in one day (not by the same person). Obviously I politely declined both, it was just a weird occurrence. Didn’t see any Nobos today, but saw at least 6 Sobos. I warned them about Carter Notch hut, but they might have better experiences being Sobos and all. I’m 16.5 miles from Maine! As tempting as it is to push through and get there tomorrow, the terrain isn’t really conducive to a 16 mile day…I will use restraint. My body is asking for a zero day, but seeing as how I only get 5 more days of hiking, I’m not zeroing now!