The Encantada Project

Conclusion: Reflections On Time Well Spent

2009-09-20T20:40:00.000-07:00

End, beginning, or stop along the way?

This was a brilliant idea.

The past thirty days have involved much more than just meeting thirty new people. They've opened the door to a whole new world of things to do out there.

In the past thirty days, I've fallen in love with Berkeley. I've discovered the power of Meetup. I've learned to stop being so shy and face the possibility of awkwardness. I've seen that my days are better when other people are in them. I've realized which of my interests are things that are easy to share. I've seen what can happen if you're just willing to ask. I've experienced the transformative power of turning fears into goals. And best of all, I don't feel so alone.

As the project draws to a close, at least this phase of it, I keep coming across hints that I may be on to something big and important here with my emphasis on just getting out there.

The cover story of the New York Times magazine a few weeks ago was about research on the health effects of social networks. As Danny read it aloud to me the other night, I couldn't help hitting him on the arm and saying, "See!"

"If you want to be happy, what’s most important is to have lots of friends. Historically, we have often thought that having a small cluster of tight, long-term friends is crucial to being happy. But Christakis and Fowler found that the happiest people...were those who had the most connections, even if the relationships weren’t necessarily deep ones.

The reason these people were the happiest, the duo theorize, is that happiness doesn’t come only from having deep, heart-to-heart talks. It also comes from having daily exposure to many small moments of contagious happiness."

Small moments of contagious happiness. That's what's missing when I sit at home all day with the cat. That's what a night of Irish dancing or an afternoon tutoring kids or a bike ride with strangers can bring to me.

Then a couple nights later, we watched an episode of This American Life's TV show which includes an act about high school yearbook photos. One character is a girl who everyone just seems to know. When the producers finally meet her themselves, she explains that she's moved a lot so she just tries to be known, tries to meet people. Of all the high schoolers, she was the most impressive: wise for age 15, sweet, thoughtful. I was never like her then, but I'd love to be now.

So now it's time to let the results settle in. To get in touch will the people I vowed to see again, and find time to make it happen. To start the slow process of building friendships out of "nice to meet you". To start living life as a genuine member of a community. And yes, to take a break from constantly searching for today's person to write about.

But there are still so many people I want to meet. Friends of friends who I never quite got scheduled up with. Neighbors whose potluck I wasn't around for. Events I intended to go with but never had to in order to make my quota. And the project is so helpful in making sure I actually do these things. And I have some momentum going here that I don't want to just let slip away into entropy again.

So I hereby propose a modified, sustainable, long-term version of the Encantada Project: one new person every week from here until infinity. Or until the cost outweighs the benefit, whichever comes first. But I'm shooting for infinity.

I'm going to take some time off to recover from the thirty-day blitz, so the weekly blogging may not begin until the end of the month. I'll probably be less diligent with the photos. But I love the structure, and the possibilities it allows me. I'm not quite ready to be all the way done.

For tonight, though, I'm going to have a quiet dinner with my boyfriend, appreciate my life, and drink the Day 1 bottle of wine. Here's to all the great people who made this possible by being willing to be met: Le'chaim!

Day 30: Infinite Possibilities

2009-09-20T19:58:00.000-07:00

Lea pondering the infinite possibilities

Oh dear. I don't know how to begin. That's what the end does to a person, I suppose. I feel like today's post needs to be a masterpiece of insight and wit. No pressure. I hereby declare that it won't be, and I'll move on anyhow.

How is a small metal carrot like a plastic football helmet, a bead in the shape of a die, a rose made of ribbon, and a tiny glass vial of mung beans? Such are the mysteries that Lea Redmond's game, Infinite Possibilities, asks its players to ponder. I answered thusly:

Like roses, carrots grow in the garden. Football players need to eat their vegetables to get big and strong. Planting carrots is always a gamble, because you never know what you're going to get. And if you do get a enough, you can always can them in jars, like the mung beans.

I had the pleasure of playing Lea's game over lemonade this afternoon because many months ago Lea wrote a letter for me. Lea is an artist. One of Lea's art projects is The World's Smallest Postal Service, which I encountered at an Oakland Art Murmur and made use of several times. The WSPS is a service where Lea will transcribe anything you write into a tiny little letter and mail it off for you. It's delightful.

So technically I had met Lea before today. But not really.

Lea had been on my list of people in the area who I was hoping Encantada could help me connect with. Others on the list include author Mary Roach and some important local government official to be named later. But somehow a whole month slipped by without me contacting any of these people I'd admired from afar. My plan for today's Encantada Finale was to attend services at the Unitarian Church, another thing I'd meant to do but hadn't.

But then fate intervened. Yesterday, Lea sent out a newsletter about her artistic endeavors, and I remembered how much I'd been hoping to meet the charmingly creative mind behind it all, in an actual conversational and non-transactional way. So I emailed her. I sent her a rambling request for the pleasure of her company, and mentioned the project, but noted that she'd only be a part of it officially if she had time today.

"Wasn't that really scary?" Danny asked. No, not a bit. I wanted to meet her so I told her so. "Then I think your project worked," he concluded. Hmmm.

Inspired by the idea of A Project, Lea found time today for sitting in a cafe with me. It was lovely. We talked about art and writing and getting to know people, and played with her game, which she explains is like collaborative poetry with objects.

The cafe closed, and as we said our goodbyes and headed toward our respective bicycles, I took a moment to spread my arms and say with glee, "I'm done! I did it!"

"You're a superhero!" she replied, and she meant it. I zoomed home full of joy.

Day 29: Souley Vegan

2009-09-19T23:53:00.000-07:00

Katia, with Big Mama Thornton lookin' on

Holy vegan food, what a great night that was.

This was kind of an epic Meetup event in some ways. Seventy-five people signed up for a quiet evening out with the Berkeley Vegan Dinner Club. Why so many? Soul food. Come on.

The restaurant, Souley Vegan, has just returned from a long hiatus of renovation and other drama, which approximately matched the length of time we've lived here. So I'd heard about the place -- it's even on the list on the fridge of restaurants we want to try -- but hadn't had the pleasure.

The line to order snaked into the far recesses of the main room when we arrived. But what do you expect when 75 people all arrive at the exact same time? We grabbed our yellow paper menu and had some decisions to make. Until then we didn't: there was an Everything Plate. Case closed. Good thing Danny was with me, or I might have had to choose between barbecue or southern fried tofu, between lentils and black beans, between corn bread potato salad. Instead, I got it all, and more.

In line, we had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of Ms. Katia, pictured above. She's a senior at UCB, majoring in something cool and interdisciplinary and oh so very Berkeley which I believe was called Development Studies (as in countries, not babies). Before we'd even gotten to the counter I'd explained the whole project thing, and I was back in the groove.

We placed our orders then made our way to one of the long banquet tables they had set up in the back room, many of which were already full. Soon a batch of other wonderful vegan food lovers joined us, and a lively dinner was had by all. The only bad part was that they ran out of peach cobbler, cheesecake, AND sweet potato pie, so we had to settle for apple cobbler for dessert.

Other highlights: I met a woman named Breanne who's going to tell me all the great places I should eat when I visit NYC next month. Katia mentioned she really wanted a bike, and Danny remembered we have one sitting in our garage looking for a good home, so that transaction will happen soon. On our walk back to the bus stop we saw this:

Katia ended up riding the bus with us until we got off to go home. As we pressed the button for our stop, she shared this gem from a human rights class professor: If the questions you're asking can be answered in this lifetime, maybe you're asking the wrong questions.

Nice thought.

I'm glad to have made some effort here tonight. One more day, one day more....

Day 28: A Little Help From My Friends

2009-09-19T14:20:00.000-07:00

These guys don't look like the Beatles...

"Oh come on, you're so close! Don't give up now..." This was Danny at around 3 pm on Friday, after I told him about the admittedly lame encounter I was going to count for my Encantada of the day.

I'd helped the woman sitting next to me at the coffee shop figure out how to make an astronaut costume for her 3 year old son (the East Bay Depot for Creative Reuse was my main contribution). We'd had a pleasant interaction, on a non-trivial topic, but I'd hadn't asked her name, nor had I told her about the project. I could have. I had no good reason not to, other than that I was "doing homework" and didn't want to interrupt the flow any more than I already was doing. Bad excuse. Danny had pegged me pretty good: I was just kind of giving up.

Why is it that the follow-through can be so hard? I've had this problem before. It's painful to admit it might be a trend, this getting excited about starting something but struggling to keep it going once the payoff stops being obvious. My mother could no doubt pull out oodles of examples, like when I wanted to quit the flute or my experience with diving lessons. The not-doing-my-homework of this morning feels like an example, even -- I'm at a spot right now where what I'm trying to write isn't coming together in an obvious way, which makes me not even want to bother dealing with it. I'm at finding reasons why what I've already done is good enough, even if doing more is good quite likely to make it better.

In the Encantada case, it's not that I don't want to finish the project. I intend to. I'm here writing, aren't I? It's just that I feel like I've already gotten out of it what I hoped to get out of it, and I'm having trouble finishing it off with gusto. "Finish hard to the wall" is a tried-and-true bit of swim coach advice. Clearly I am not doing that.

Luckily, my next door neighbors swooped in last night for an eleventh-hour save. Just as me, Danny, my cousin, and her husband were sitting down to play a board game (fun, but nothing new here), Robert, the video game reviewer who lives in the next condo over, knocked on the door. "We're playing Beatles Rock Band over here, I don't know if you're in for the night, but you should come join." So we did.

Robert had three friends already there, positioned around the fake instruments. There were Mike, Diane, and a guy who's name I didn't catch but who learned to play some mean drums all by playing the video game. It wasn't the most conversational of settings, but it was definitely fun. Three part harmonies and back-up vocals meant that 6 people could be playing all at once. And everyone could sing along, even if they weren't part of the game. Once Robert's wife Sarah came home from her softball game, we had enough women for an all-girl rendition of "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" (I played drums).

And, inspired and prodded by Danny's afternoon call-out, I left and went home to get the camera to document the evening. I told everyone about the project, and why I was taking photos. I even finally told Robert that I've been following him on Twitter for months, which, even though he has thousands of followers, occasionally leads to some creepy moments of knowing more than is normal about what your neighbors are doing. After a final rendition of "A Little Help From My Friends," we headed home, basking in the glow of great music, good people, and games that move by themselves.

Day 27: Brief Encounters

2009-09-18T00:05:00.000-07:00

Danny pauses downtown at night after an evening at A.C.T.

The woman in line in front of us was curved into her walker, but her hair was dark and her skin still stretched tight across her face. She was dressed for an evening out: white linen jacket with swirls stitched in rows across her back, chunky necklaces with bead of stone draped down her chest. "You from the city?" she asked as we filed in behind her. I felt self conscious in my t-shirt, even though it was a relatively nice one.

"Berkeley," I answered.

"Subscribers?"

"Nope." By this time Danny had retreated to the safety of the crowd behind us. I was making my own new friend.

"Ah, so you like Noel Coward." This was true. We'd seen a Cal Shakes performance of "Private Lives" in June. It was witty and fresh, despite the script being decades old. Young compared to Shakespeare, of course.

"I'm trying to figure out what this line's about," she continued. "I was running late already, and I need to use the restroom, and now this."

"Well if everybody's stuck outside, I'm sure they'll hold it."

"That's what I'm doing right now!" she replied. I smiled.

Then she started telling me about another play she'd seen last year, one she was sure I would have liked.

A security guard with grey polo shirt and a foam earpiece stopped by and interrupted. "This one's just fun and really well done. You're going to love it," she told my companion as she lay a hand on her shoulder. As she turned to move further down the sidewalk, my friend said something that got lost in the din of the crowded sidewalk. The guard turned back, catching my eye. I shrugged. By the time she reached us again, the older woman was staring straight ahead, gathering her thoughts perhaps. The guard left again. The older woman must have remembered her thought, or had a new one; she turned herself this time and started talking. The guard was long gone. I shrugged again. "I wanted to ask what the line was about," she said, before resuming her explanation of the last play.

I had trouble concentrating on what she was saying. I noticed her lipstick. She was wearing more make-up than me. Something about a rich untalented piano player?

Just as I was about to ask her her name, a large black man in a suit came and tapped her shoulder. "You can come with me," he said, leading her away from the stairs and towards the ramp to get in. It seemed like he knew her too.

"When I'm her age, that's how I want to be," I told Danny.

"What, people helping you but independent too?"

"Yeah, helping me because they know and like me, not because they feel sorry for me or anything. And going to the theater all the time."

Once we inched through the double doors and the slow, ritual, ripping of the tickets, I noticed my friend standing near the elevator. "What do you think, should we join her?" I asked Danny.

"I just always automatically take the stairs."

I wavered. Then I grabbed his arm and dragged him across the lobby to where she was standing. Just as I was about to mosey up beside her, I noticed the wrong button was lit. She was going down; we needed to be two floors up. I made a sharp turn for the stairs, and in my head I wished her a good night.

The play, which I loved, was called Brief Encounters.

Day 26: Urban Portraits // Invitation to Be My Guest

2009-09-16T22:51:00.000-07:00

Stealth photos in the photo class. I didn't realize the guy was picking his nose...

Today I had two excellent chances to meet people. And I kind of did. But the project is definitely trending towards a mellow finale.

This afternoon, I returned to the 826 Valencia world and helped out with a class of seventh graders embarking on a quest to become journalists. In practice, this meant that I helped one adorable little guy named Jihad read a news article. I met people, but not really. Besides, I'd already had two 826 Valencia days on the blog already.

So I saved the official meeting for first night of the photography class I signed up for through UC Berkeley's student art studio. It's called "Urban Portraits," so I decided to take my first one while sitting on the floor of the over-crowded classroom towards the end of an overly complex discussion of exposure compensation. Not too shabby for a stealth point-and-shoot if I do say so myself.

I got to class late so had no time to meet anyone then, and there was not a lot of sticking around after class, either. Including by me. I just didn't have it in me. I did have a nice (short) conversation with the guy in the yellow shirt as our bikes were parked next to each other. He has a British accent. He doesn't own a camera, yet. I will be seeing him more. I neither learned his name nor told him about Encantada.

But given that I now have 6 weeks of urban photo assignments, I have a feeling that even after the project ends in four days (praise be!) I will have encounters to report on.

I think the most stimulating part of tonight's class for me was thinking about documentary art outside the context of journalism. No one was talking about going crazy with Photoshop or anything, but we did discuss the fallacy of thinking photographs capture some sort of objective truth. Photographers chose their subjects, lighting, composition, etc, and they can manipulate those. They can also chose which photos to put next to each other to create a message. I kept translating these ideas into thoughts about writing. Except in photography I feel more free. It's harder to accidently make stuff up.

We also talked about photography being inherently exploitative, as is journalism, as is an Encantada blog. The teacher showed us some of his own work in which he tried to counter that a little by including photos taken by the subject of his portraits. In that same spirit, I hereby invite any of the people who I've written about thus far (I know at least some of you are reading along) to guest post about anything you want. I will be pleasantly surprised if anyone takes me up on the offer. I mean it though.

So once again I declare today a success even though I didn't abide by the letter of my own rules.

They say it takes 21 days for something to become a habit. I think getting out and being willing to talk to people has crossed that line for me. I have faith in the exciting world outside my door if ever I decide to go seek it. And I will.

Day 25: Yarn Wrangling

2009-09-15T22:54:00.000-07:00

Knitting project complete! Kitty likes it almost as much as the ball of yarn...

Once again, I have no photo. It's funny how this project has evolved over its short life -- by Day 25, the act of getting out there has become more important to me than proving it by documenting it, or even telling people what I'm up to.

Tonight I attended a knitting group that has been meeting a block from my house for over a year. The women and the man (just one) were funny, talented, and enjoyable to be around. If I ever have a free Tuesday again, I will go back.

I found the group via Ravelry, a social networking site geared to knitters. I don't think I'm quite obsessed with the yarn craft enough to really make full use of the tools on the site, but I do appreciate it helping me find nice people to sit and knit with.

I might have gotten around to telling everyone about Encantada at some point if the evening hadn't been cut short by an upsetting problem, however: The Nomad Cafe, as of this Sunday, now closes at 8 pm. The group was scheduled to keep knitting until 9:30, in keeping with the former 10 pm closing time. Everyone was upset about the situation, and one woman even took the time to write a letter to the management begging them to reconsider, at least for Tuesday nights. More likely, the group will find a new home. Hopefully I will follow them there. And when I do, I will tell them that they have been written about.

Day 24: Sweat and Waltzes

2009-09-14T22:59:00.000-07:00

Another evening at the Starry Plough (image by rick)

I turned to my neighborhood Irish pub once again tonight to fulfill my Encantada mission, which is increasingly feeling like a stressful chore. I think it's because I have very little lined up for this week in terms of the project, and very much lined up for this week that has nothing to do with meeting new people.

For example, tonight I had signed up for a knitting meetup, which would have been perfect and lovely and relaxing, and I even think Erin from Day 16 would have joined me there. Alas, the fates conspired to thwart this lovely plan, as my regular writing group had to switch its meeting to tonight. I couldn't skip it. So I had to come up with another plan.

Similar engagements dot the rest of this week's calendar -- theater tickets with the boyfriend, dinner with cousins, a potential trip out of town. How can I meet new people when I'm spending so much time with the ones I already know?

This brings me to a second reason that I'll be very pleased when the project ends on Sunday: I'll get to start actually hanging out with and getting to know some of these people I've met. It's been pretty awesome how many of them have either been in contact with me since the first day we met, or who I intend to make an effort about once I have a bit more time. A project like this needs to be the exception, not the rule, or else life would stay full of first-meetings.

Which brings me to tonight. I went Irish dancing again, just for an hour or so after I got home from my writing group. If it weren't for Encantada, there's about a 100% chance that I would have just stayed home, but I hadn't even left the house all day until 7:15 pm, and I pretty much cheated on yesterday, so I just couldn't bear not to put the effort in.

My timing was good, because when I walked in the crowd was taking a break between dances. I guy I recognized from Day 10's escapades walked up to me straight away with a smile. We hadn't actually talked at all then, so I introduced myself. His name is Matt. He was wearing a green shirt and a knit hat that featured two humps like a camel's that must have been covering some interesting, dready hair. We danced the first dance together, with me leading him around the waltzes, and he said I was brilliant for walking in and doing so well. Then the instructor, whose name turns out to be John, whisked me away for a while. During the next break, Matt stepped out for a cigarette, and I decided not to be creepy and follow him. Then as I was dancing the last waltz he left. So no picture, no explanation that he would get blogged about. Not quite following the rules.

But! I consider the evening a success. I got out of the house doing something I liked that I wouldn't otherwise have taken the time to do. And while I didn't make any sort of meaningful bond with a new person, by slowly becoming a regular at an event, an event that I can and should attend in the future, I'm getting to know some folks in an actually sustainable way. So perhaps it's alright that as the Encantada Project enters the home stretch, it's evolving a little. New people are great, but ongoing connections are even better.

Day 23: Fail/Cheat

2009-09-13T22:30:00.000-07:00

(image by 20after4)

That graphic may be a bit harsh. You decide.

So I technically didn't meet anyone new today. I technically didn't even really try.

But yesterday was SO long. And SO full of meeting people. And I didn't get home from Yosemite until late, blah blah blah.

Even though I generally discourage this, and do consider it cheating, I make the rules so I will let myself cheat. Here's the scoop on some new people I met yesterday...

Dan is a 1L. Kathryn is his fiancee. She teaches high school special ed. We spent probably 3 miles walking together -- it turns out that the girlfriends of law students sometimes have a lot in common. Kathryn likes the whole writing thing too, and was very interested in the MFA program (especially to hear of all my classmates who are high school teachers). Dan and Kathryn both did Teach for America, and so we bonded over Americorps servitude (I mean service) as well.

I didn't get to say goodbye to these two as they left camp this morning, but I hope it won't matter, because I hope I'll see them again.

So there's the weekend. Only 7 days to go...

Day 22: Yo-summiting

2009-09-13T22:12:00.000-07:00

Let's start with some statistics:

Miles from trailhead to summit of Half Dome and back, via JMT: 16.5
Elevation gained, in feet: 4,800
Time alarm clock went off this morning: 5:00 am
Number of people who piled into cars to conquer the hike together: 17
Time from bottom of cables to summit on a normal day: 20 minutes
Time from bottom of cables to summit for me, because of the incredible traffic jam: 1.5 hours
Hours spent on the trail by me and several others: 12.5

The crawl up the last bit of Half Dome(photo by mischiru)

Given all those numbers, it's not hard to imagine that I may have had some time, during the hours upon hours of trudging up and down this gorgeous mountain, to get to know some folks.

Actually, I'm pretty sure I had my Encantada finished at a record early 6:17 am on Saturday. That's the hour at which I learned the names and stories of the three strangers riding in the back of my Volkwagen, on the way to the trailhead.

There was Cozi, an actual 1L and member of the environmental law group we were with (ELQ). Then there was Jolene, an non-ELQ 1L, and coincidentally also Cozi's friend from high school. And finally, there was Jen, a student in the public policy program that Cozi had just completed.

These three wonderful women taught me things I never knew about caffeine on the drive over, as they sipped 6 am Cokes and mourned the lack of coffee. On the hike up, I heard about Jen's recent backpacking wardrobe malfunction in which her boot completely fell apart on Day 1 of a four day trip (she hiked out on a contraption involving tent poles, a sock, and duct tape). They chose (wisely, I later decided) not to bother waiting in the line to get to the very last bit of half dome, and turned around about 3 hours before I finally started heading down. They spent the afternoon hanging out in Yosemite Valley with the utmost patience, and it was a pure delight to see them sitting near the car when I stumbled back after dark.

One of them handed me some whiskey and coke, and the day ended with soda, just as it had began. Rock on.

Days 21: Campfire Camaraderie

2009-09-13T21:57:00.000-07:00

A campfire, much like the one I experienced (photo by mynameisharsha)

I actually went into blog withdrawal on Friday, as I met new people and couldn't document it. I felt so.... disconnected. Isolated. So 1.0.

My plan had been to hand-write my proto-entries on the days they happened, thus guaranteeing some freshness and authenticity. Beer, darkness, and controlled social chaos prevented this from happening. I also confess right now that I was absolutely terrible with the camera all weekend.

BUT. I did meet many new people.

Friday involved me asking the question, "So are you a 1L?" (as in first year law student) to many people. This turned out to be pretty embarrassing, since almost always the answer was no. Luckily, I got to pretend that because I'm not a law student myself, I don't have to know anything about what's going on. That claim was pretty well bogus, given the facts of the evening (I was a co-cook and helped organize the evening's goings on), but it helped me save face.

The most memorable person I met on Friday was Mary, who was definitely not a 1L. Mary was visiting from Chicago, as the guest of a law student with whom she'd served in the Peace Corps in Paraguay. The second she said the word "Chicago," there was no denying that was where she was from. The best thing I learned about Mary actually came on Saturday night, when she displayed an amazing ability to recall all the words to every song you might ever conceivably want to sing while sitting around the campfire.

And the days march onward....

Day 20: Role Playing *** AND special In The Woods Announcement

2009-09-10T20:39:00.000-07:00

Joshua on BART, very skeptical of this endeavor.

During my first interaction with Joshua, I pretended to be an eight grader. By the end of our time together, I was acting like his mom. Hopefully we'll get it straight soon.

Joshua happened to be sitting next to me in the Writer's Room at Everett Middle School in SF today, where we were both attending yet another delightful 826 Valencia training. We paired up for a lesson in what to do when you're helping a student write an essay about Flowers for Algernon and neither of you have read it. I was the student. We weren't so great at pretending. We ended up talking about some concept whose name I can't even remember (help me out here Joshua, if you read this) that provides an alternative to thesis sentences. Some eight grader.

This conversation, though, turned out to foreshadow the rest of our afternoon together. I hung around after training broke up, being kind of creepy. I had to meet someone, right? Joshua was busy talking to a staff member about his internship at a pastry shop that had just this morning suddenly fallen through. Bummer. But I heard him mention Berkeley. This further increased my incentive to hang around being creepy until someone included me in the conversation.

Luckily, that didn't take long. Through more awkward standing and refusal to let the conversation end, I managed to somehow (almost) nonverbally convince Joshua to walk his bike next to me all the way to the BART station, which wasn't even entirely where he was going, though was a decent option. By then the conversation had gotten exciting though. I think this often happens between writers (he's a poet).

Topic 1: Is it possible to separate narrative and poetics?
Topic 2: Linguistics (both majored in it), and "language as object orienting behavior". This one got so heated we actually had to stop walking and stand in the middle of the sidewalk to fully express ourselves.
Topic 3: Post-colonialism in French west Africa

These are good topics!

Yet by the time we were most of the way back to Berkeley, I was listening to myself tell Joshua he was being silly for quitting college with only a year to go. Who am I, his mom? Anyway, he fought back valiantly. I pressed upon him a link to the blog, and extracted from him a photo, and very much hope to hang out again and perhaps (his idea) exchange work.

And I've already signed up for an in-school volunteering session, so there shall be no accusing me of using 826 purely as a social network. A valid use, though. Valid.

*************

SPECIAL IN THE WOODS ANNOUNCEMENT:

I will be in the woods (specifically, Yosemite) starting very early on Friday and continuing through Sunday evening. This means that while I WILL be meeting new people on those days, there will be no blogging about it, unless someone has an iPhone, we have cell service, and I'm very ambitious (unlikely). Since I make the rules, I declare that this is acceptable. I will make a full report upon my return.

Thanks,
The Management

Day 19: Lunch on the Lawn

2009-09-09T22:04:00.000-07:00

Julietta angelically backlit on the quad

Another friend-of-a-friend today, another ultimate frisbee connection. It's nice having outings and encounters planned. This one has been hopping around the calendar like a jumping bean, as Julietta and I try to mesh our ever-changing schedules. Finally, miraculously, it happened: we had lunch.

Choosing the venue was the first obstacle: Julietta can't eat gluten, and I'm a pesky vegan. She suggested a few places that are kind to the gluten-free crowd, and luckily one also had plenty of dairy- and meat-free options: San Francisco Soup Company. This is a campus lunch spot I don't think I'd ever have found my way into if it weren't for her, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. The menus were electronic. The gazpacho was good.

Julietta is moving to New York next week, which she thought, at first, might disqualify her from the project. Her family lives around here, and who knows when she'll be back, so I decided it didn't. We had a nice conversation for a good hour and half, about healthcare reform, religion, science, and careers. She had a viewpoint on public service and jobs that I'd never heard before (and I'm sure to get it wrong in its nuances): she'd rather make her money off of something that's not a basic human need so that she doesn't feel guilty for making money. For example, making money as a doctor seems distasteful because it sucks to profit off of illness. Making money off selling luxury gadgets, however -- guilt free.

I never quite nailed down the issue of being able to provide service and not worry about money, but nonetheless it was interesting fodder for an afternoon lounging around campus.

Coming soon: more volunteering and a weekend in the woods!

Day 18: Serendipity

2009-09-08T19:04:00.000-07:00

Mlle. Claire and my Danny (photo taken with cell phone!)

Trusting the universe turned out well today.

I didn't have anything planned that would help me meet a person. I spent about 20 minutes wandering the web looking for knitting groups that meet on Tuesdays, and kind of had a lead.

But then Claire dropped in, and all was well.

Claire is a fellow Duke grad, and a friend of Danny's from the semester they spent together in New York. I'd heard about her quite a bit, but had never had the pleasure of meeting her, even though she lives in SF. But as luck would have it -- or perhaps some of the good Burning Man vibes were still trailing her -- she picked today to randomly be hanging out in Berkeley. I had an unscheduled afternoon. I had an Encantada hole to fill. A few iced teas later, and the day was groovy.

Of course it helped that Claire is really great. I don't know what else I expected, because Danny has pretty good taste in friends, but still, it was a lovely surprise. We talked about yoga, food, Switzerland, parents, jobs, law school, life. There are plans afoot for more gathering. It was calm, refreshing, and meaningful. And easy. Of course I didn't get any work done....but that's what tonight it for!

Day 17: The Errors

2009-09-07T21:23:00.000-07:00

"A Comedy of Errors" (pr photo)

Today's meeting is not really worth writing about. Honestly. Except that those are the rules...

I met a friend of Danny's who I'd never met before, after he (sort of) joined us at some free Shakespeare in the Presidio, thanks to SF Shakes. His name is Phillippe. He's Quebecois. So technically I did what I set out to do.

However, we only actually talked on the long car ride home (thanks, Bay Bridge closure). There were other folks in the car (including Sarah from Day 2!). It didn't feel like a real connection, which is the level of effort I've been trying to sustain here. I might see him again, but I don't feel like I got to know him. When I dropped him off in Berkeley, I couldn't bring myself to ask for a photo, though I did mention the project and that he was today's victim.

That word, victim. On days like today, this whole thing feels like something I'm imposing on both the people I meet and the world around us. But I expected ups and downs when I started, and really, the ups have been high and plentiful, the downs minimal. Can't ask for much more.

Plus free Shakespeare is great, right? I end with a tangentially relevant quote from the play:

"I to the world am like a drop of water
That in the ocean seeks another drop,
Who, falling there to find his fellow forth,
(Unseen, inquisitive) confounds himself."

Day 16: Easy Ridin'

2009-09-06T22:18:00.000-07:00

Erin and her husband Keith

I am hereby and immediately going to end my streak of saying only nice things. Today's bike ride was in many ways unsatisfying. There.

I know, pretty weak, right? I wanted to rip in to the safety-talk, wear-your-mittens, uber-mom vibe of the Bay Area Easy Riders Bicycling Group meetup I attended today. But the truth is, despite the pokey pace and the infuriating condescension, I had a good time. I met Erin, for example.

Erin became my new best friend when, upon my telling her I'd moved here from Utah, she reacted with genuine interest, excitement, and appreciation for that beautiful and misunderstood state. Also her fancy biking gear impressed me.

After bonding over a love of (parts of) non-coastal America, we continued making the ride bearable by bonding over backpacking, knitting, and the lack of appropriate cycling groups in the East Bay. I hardly noticed that in we'd only gone 8 miles when we stopped for lunch, two hours after we'd gathered.

To be fair, because meanness is not my strong suit, the ride was advertised as easy. But even the refreshing flavor of Erin's company couldn't keep Danny and I from bailing as everyone else munched on their pre-ordered sandwiches, condiments on the side to keep it easy. We rode home like the wind.

Lucky for me, Erin lives in my neighborhood, works at home, and likes many of the same things I do. In an unprecedented act of receptivity, she actually got in touch with me via email before I'd had a chance to write this post. So all in all, the ride was worth it: new acquaintance who could become a friend, good exercise (eventually), and a Sunday morning spent exploring a new part of the Bay. But locals, take the warning: when they say "easy," they really mean it.

Day 15: Writers in a Bar

2009-09-05T22:04:00.000-07:00

Maria and Judy outside the writerly Edinburgh Castle Pub

"Talk to me," Maria said, walking up to me at the bar. "I'm just standing around awkwardly." She may have said "too", though she needn't have: My own awkward standing was anything but subtle.

I had already introduced myself as I sat down at a table with her and several other people who were, I presumed by the paper plates of pizza they each had in front of them, also at the Edinburgh Castle Pub at 6 pm on a Saturday in order to volunteer with LitQuake, the SF literary festival that doesn't actually start until October. I was worried no one would be able to tell that I was such a volunteer, because (vegan that I am), I was not holding a plate of pizza. I almost got an empty plate just to make sure someone would talk to me. Instead I sat down with Maria and her friend Judy and a few other people, and listened to them talk about beer. I myself contributed about three words.

Then it was time for the readings! You can't gather a group of people excited to volunteer for a literary festival and not expect at least 70% of them to be writers eager to share their own work. We had been instructed to bring a short piece if we wanted to have a shot at it, and names would go in a hat. Maria was the first one picked. (I was piece-less, being that other, non-eager species of writer).

She read an excerpt from a novel she's working on, a scene about a carnival Wall of Death. I found it completely engaging, which is very impressive given the insufficient PA system and the dim dull hum of the bar.

It was after all this that she found me being awkward. We commandeered some bar stools and talked about life as a freelancer. She showed me a photo of her cat. I told her about my projects, both this one and the master's thesis. She told me about a writing tip she'd learned: Do your own work first, while you're still fresh and creative. Leave for later the stuff that pays the bills.

I left for the evening with her business card, always a voyeuristic treasure when it comes from someone similarly self-employed ("Writing and editing services," hers reads), and a calendar full of activities where I'll hopefully meet Maria again, and other people like her. I spent more time on the BART/walk to the bar than I did actually being there, but as I wound my way through the crowds and cable cars and glittering neon of Powell Street at night, the city made sure I didn't mind.

Day 14: Inspiration and Exhaustion

2009-09-04T14:23:00.000-07:00

Mysterious backlight on the BART, perfect for fellow 826 volunteer

Today I'm going to strive for more depth. It's not after my bedtime for a change, I've already met my person for the day, I'm nearly halfway done with the project... a perfect time for some reflection.

I'm getting tired of this. But not in the ways that I expected.

This morning provides a perfect example. I gave myself a few hours off from work (fine, I admit it, pretty much the whole day), and headed into the city for a volunteer training on how to run field trips at the amazing 826 Valencia.

826 Valencia is a pirate store and tutoring center, affiliated with McSweeney's and founded by Dave Eggers. Its sensibility is what you might call 'rococo absurdist.' I love it. I've loved it since even before I moved to the Bay Area, thanks to a blog post by my favorite museum philosopher, Nina Simon. I've been planning to volunteer at 826 since I knew I was coming into its sphere of influence.

So I attended a volunteer training, and got all excited. And then I never did anything else. That was last November.

Enter Encantada Project. As I have every week since last November, the other day I got an email newsletter from the 826 staff touting all the great stuff they're doing. But this time, rather than clicking the "archive" button right away ("delete" would involve admitting I wasn't going to do anything about the call to action), I clicked the little gmail star and labeled it Encantada Project. Because there's nowhere I'm more sure to meet interesting, very cool people than at 826, and because it's better late than never, I signed up for a training this week, and another next Thursday, and vowed to get more involved.

This is the part of the project that I'm not getting tired of at all: the part that spurs me out of my chair and into the world; the part that says "What are you waiting for? Just go do it!"; the part that looks at sociocultural experiences as just as important and essential as doing work or getting exercise or eating food; the part that's done with excuses. Already, in the last two weeks, I've done more things that make me appreciate living the Berkeley than I'd done in the six months preceding them. For that, I have this constructed set of rules to thank.

As I expected, the training was great. In fact, the training was better than great, because it was better than I expected. I got pushed out of my comfort zone and discovered I could probably do something (play the character of a crotchety old editor) better than I'd thought I could. I'm looking forward to going back.

And as I hoped, I met my new person for the day. Steven (or Stephen, I didn't ask) -- also a new volunteer -- and I ended up walking to the BART together and quite naturally fell into an easy conversation. He's a film guy, does screenwriting and poetry, lives in Oakland, used to do improv, is involved in underground art.

Here's the part I'm getting sick of: After a good 15-20 minutes of pleasant chat, I had to break the flow and bring up the project. "I've got kind of a strange favor to ask you," I started, and went into my spiel about meeting a new person every day for 30 days and writing about it and would you mind if I write about you and can I also take a photo. Once his initial look of skepticism faded, Stev/phen took it in stride. "If I can have the link to your blog project," he countered. Of course. Camera comes out, one shot, bam, it goes away. No big deal.

So why am I coming to dread that moment? Even with people who I've met entirely because of the project and who know what I'm up to from the beginning, pulling out the camera and making it official feels like throwing a goldfish in the punch bowl.

Perhaps it's because the photo turns the encounter into a transaction. I take your face, and the superficial details I've managed to scrape together about you, and I turn them into something I can use, something hardly about you at all. How could this blog really be about the people I'm meeting? By the time I write about them, I've known them for less than a day. The photo moment seems to coagulate an inherent selfishness that courses through this endeavor.

I have noticed my attitude shifting in some positive ways, though. I saw it Wednesday at the White Horse, and yesterday at the Guac Fest, and today at the training. I've acquired a degree of faith in my ability to meet someone, which brings with it a measure of relaxation. Or perhaps it's just that I'm increasingly repulsed at the desperation that threatens to well up inside me, that has done so before -- because of needing to meet the quota set out by the project, yes, but even more because of needing to prove to myself that I can be liked. Facing that darkness every day is teaching me to conquer it. I'm learning to trust myself as a defense mechanism against the unpleasant, tiring waves of self-doubt, but it's also helping to show my inner critics that that trust is valid. Self-fulling prophecy, if you will.

So I'm tired of the project, but I'm not tempted to give it up. I've heard it takes three weeks of new behavior for something to become a habit and override what came before; I've got another sixteen days to keep pushing this project along. After that, I'll have the rest of my life to figure out what joys my new habits can bring. I have faith that I'll find a few. At the very least, I'll have Irish dancing and the pirate store...

Day 13: You should wear a ring

2009-09-03T22:36:00.000-07:00

Misa, me, and Yoko at the Random unfocussed group for active intellectual (singles)

Today's first lesson was that I'm sick of meeting law students.

I had an easy opportunity to get my encantada in for the day, at Guacfest, an annual law school avocado and beer extravaganza. I enjoyed myself thoroughly, and did in fact kind of meet a new person. But it just didn't feel like it counted. My world was not expanding in any way.

So I went to Plan B: a meet & greet organized by the Meetup group RUGFAINTS, which stands for Random Unfocused Group For Active Intellectual Singles.

Right. I'm not a single. But the group looked really interesting, and it was nearby, and here's how they described tonight's event:

"This is a casual event where you will have a chance to introduce yourself and chat with other people who share similar interests, bounce around ideas for future group events, meet old friends and make some new friends."

That sounds great, right? Why should my& friend-making be impaired by the fact that I happen to have a devoted partner at home?

So feeling a little bit like a sneak* and a cheater*, I went to the event. *(Let it be known that my partner knew exactly where I was, and was fine with it. I was being sneaky and breaking the rules of the group, not of the relationship.)

Anyway, while I certainly wasn't going to lie or deliberately hide my attached status, I didn't want to draw attention to the fact that technically I didn't belong there, so I didn't mention Danny at all in conversation. This is unusual -- thus far he's come up almost painfully often, as I explain why I live here and talk about what I do with my days. Lots of "we." It was an interesting exercise to spend the evening asserting my own identity.

I met a number of lovely and interesting people, as expected. A ceramic artist, an Austrian grad student...and of course, Misa and Yoko, who I spent the longest time talking to. Misa moved to Berkely 2.5 months ago, just picked up and came with no job lined up or anything, and has been figuring out her life. Very brave. Yoko came here from Japan ten years ago, and seems to have a pretty wonderful life -- hiking, tennis, rides her bike everywhere, etc. We talked a lot about food, which of course was wonderful.

The worst part of the evening was when my sneaky silence came back to bite me. A nice guy who I'd talked to a little chased after me as I left, and asked for my number. I had to confess my non-availability to him, and even though I honestly hadn't meant to, I felt bad for having led him on. "You should wear a ring or something!" he said. "I'm not married!" I replied. "Still, you have a boyfriend you live with, that's like you're engaged or something, right?" Not exactly. But he does make a point.

Still, I'm glad I went. I predict an 80% chance that I will see Misa or Yoko or both again. However, I think my time at singles events is probably done. Maybe I can start my own group, and call it RUGFAINT....

Day 12: East Bay Kings Club

2009-09-03T00:42:00.000-07:00

Tommy Salami rocking out at the drag king show

I met someone today. But I agreed not to write about it. That sounds more cryptic than it is.

Tonight, Danny stepped away from his law school books for long enough for us finally to hit up an event we've been meaning to check out for almost a year now: the East Bay Kings Club drag king show that happens every Wednesday at the White Horse Inn.

This bar, which is within walking distance of our house, thus guaranteeing that we occasionally walk past it, looks like the kind of place I might think twice about walking into if it were in, say, Wyoming. The solid double doors and blue and white paint job on the outside scream "high school locker room." Pot-bellied men who chain smoke and start throwing back the domestic beer at 4 pm are the kind of people I'd expect to find inside.

Of course I'm wrong. The wall near the bar is plastered with a series of "Best of the East Bay" awards. The category? Best Gay Bar. Who knew?

Clearly many people. There's seems to be a lively and loyal audience for this weekly shindig, involving lip-sync, costumes, and some rocking moves. One of Danny's law school friends is a regular performer, under the moniker of Manny Nuff. Tonight, he did a stellar rendition of the song "I'm on a Boat."(The video of the original is embedded below. If I get the OK, I'll post the drag king version too)

Anyway, it was a fun event, and one that only the Encantada Project got us out of the house to finally go to.

As for the earlier crypticness: I met and talked for a little while with a person at the show. When I told this individual about my project, they were quite firm about not wanting to appear on my blog. I didn't press the issue -- we were in a noisy bar -- but it would have been interesting to hear more about their reasoning. Did it have to do with the venue, and issues of sexuality? Was it a more general desire for privacy? Either way, I'm respecting their wishes. Twelve days in and only one person declining the invitation -- not a bad track record in my opinion. Stay tuned for the possibility of entertaining video...

Day 11: "Coffee" with an athletic biologist

2009-09-01T21:56:00.000-07:00

Alyssa, on her way to being busy.

Today's meeting was another friend-of-a-friend sort of deal. "Does she look like an ultimate player?" I wondered about each woman who crossed the street from Cal's campus towards where I sat outside Yali's Cafe. (This of course begs the question, What does an ultimate* player look like?)

Alyssa provided no definite answers, but she did provide almost an hour of good conversation. Our "coffee" date was more of a bench-sitting chat session, as I sipped iced tea and she fiddled with the ear buds she was holding.

I walked away with a healthy dose of perspective. I'm not sure I have actually experienced what "busy" means, compared to this woman. In college, she was on the varsity equestrian team AND on the club ultimate team. I, on the other hand, quit ultimate after one semester because it took too much time.

These days Alyssa is working on her Ph.D. in microbiology, and meanwhile finds time to play some very competitive ultimate, ride horses, play basketball, and get into boxing. Not to mention quality time with the friends. Honestly, I got tired just thinking about it all. I'm sure she does at least 4 things that didn't come up, on top of that.

After hearing about all she has going on, I was somewhat honored that she made time for me. I was even more honored when she suggested I come along on the next one of her "girls night" get-togethers. She's headed to Europe for a while (doing 4 countries in 3 weeks, of course), so we'll see if that pans out when she gets back. At the very least, if I ever start to feel overwhelmed with my life, I can take a deep breath and to compare myself to Alyssa. Then I will relax.

*Ultimate = ultimate frisbee. Check it out.

Day 10: Polka, waltz, ring right, now jump!

2009-08-31T23:34:00.000-07:00

Alexandra enjoying a break from the Irish dancing.

I've been living next door to an absolute treasure for over a year without knowing it. Tonight, thanks to Ms. Alexandra, I have found it.

I connected with Alexandra through Couch Surfing. This is a very cool online network designed to help travelers find people upon whose couches to crash. It also is a decent way to meet people in one's own community, especially around here, because San Francisco = international headquarters. I haven't actually participated in any Couch Surfing events of any kind, local or not, but I've been on the mailing list for about 6 months now and it seemed an obvious place to look for new encounters.

I proposed a few options of ways to meet up with Alexandra, and she being brilliant and prescient agreed that Irish Dancing at the Starry Plough sounded fun. I was a little late getting there and she was a little early, and waited very patiently for me to arrive. We had a chance to chat a bit before the festivities started, so I got to hear about her experiences living in St. Petersburg and her childcare job search and why she wouldn't want to live away from a big city ($10 opera is key).

Then the evening begin. A very nice man whose name I didn't catch spent a good hour teaching a bunch of beginners how to bob and slide and step in an Irish sort of way and in complicated lovely patterns. Then the band kicked up and the dancing began.

Alexandra is, I quote, "NOT a dancer," but she did great. I got the chance to be her partner at one point and we waltzed our way around the floor. The best part was her enormous smile.

I also found myself absolutely delighted to be slung left and right by all manner of experienced dancers, including a gentleman named Patrick who has at least 50 years on me but sure could spin me great. I stayed to the end, even including the final waltz, during which my partner had to teach me how to count but by the end we were doing OK.

It was SO fun. I'm SO going back. And I hope Alexandra comes too, because the only difference between a dancer and not a dancer is getting out of your chair....

Day 9: Vegan Food Repeat

2009-08-30T20:07:00.000-07:00

Chris and his cousin Nora, at my house!

There's a great essay in today's Washington Post about "friending" (Facebook-style) versus friendship. The author ends with a charming anecdote about her new Facebook friend dropping by her house; the two of them share a walk in the park.

My evening wasn't quite so poetic, but I still consider it a small victory. In an unprecedentedly bold act of social engagement on my part, at the end of last week's vegan potluck I suggested to my new acquaintance, Chris, that we get together for dinner again sometime. He had plans to be in my neck of the woods for a concert tonight, and was bold enough himself to suggest convening a meal beforehand.

That's how I ended up spending my afternoon cooking ratatouille and chickpeas and orange cake and cleaning up the house for almost-strangers.

I should have been nervous. This was kind of a big step -- having people in my home -- and often it takes a long time for a relationship to get there. But I stayed pretty relaxed about the whole thing. I can come up with two reasons for this:

The food. I'm a good cook, and I know it. This is especially true when the impending audience is sure to appreciate rather than be flummoxed by the fact that I don't use meat, eggs, or dairy. Cooking vegan food for vegan eaters is immensely satisfying and helps my self-worth.
The time limit. Chris and Nora had tickets to a concert starting at 7, so they were only able to stay for about an hour and half. It didn't feel like an eat-and-run; rather, it took some of the pressure and potential awkwardness out of an evening and let it be short and sweet.

It was fun seeing Chris again -- we hugged at the door, both coming and going, and talked about possibly meeting up for rock climbing some time.

As for his cousin Nora, she is a delightful human being. She was funny and smart and had quirky but interesting opinions about things, especially movies. (Has anyone else in the world besides her noticed that there's a female rat in Ratatouille wearing lipstick?) She has great tattoos, including an octopus on her calf. We didn't exchange contact info, but I know I can reach her through Chris, and I would be very pleased to hang out with her again.

In other exciting news, Sarah from the same vegan potluck emailed me today, to arrange further food-eating. She mentioned she'd be reading the blog, so when she sees this here, it might be creepy. Sarah, I'm sorry for that, and thanks for emailing.

Looking ahead, tomorrow marks the first day in a while I don't already have a meeting with someone planned (though we saw Friday that that's not always a sure bet). It's been taking a pretty sizable amount of time and energy to coordinate as full a social calendar as I've been trying to have, which clearly explains at least part of why I hadn't done many of these activities already.

Yet while I have many holes in the month I'm trying to fill, there are people who've emailed me I haven't gotten back to. And I had to cancel a coffee date I'd set up yesterday in order to go on the hike. It's a delicate and intricate balance, and all I can say is thank goodness for Google Calenders, friends of friends, social networks, and most of all, kind people. Amen.

Day 8: Group Dynamics

2009-08-29T21:37:00.000-07:00

Debbie, Geo, John, Sang Ay, David

I hereby declare that today makes up for yesterday.

The venue: Point Reyes National Seashore, Estero trail

The activity: 8.5 mile hike with the "Bay Area Everything Outdoors Club for 20,30,40 year olds" Meetup group.

The new pals (interspersed with hike photos):

Kim, reporter for Wired Online. I mentioned I was in school for writing. The conversation took off from there. Several miles later, we were still talking shop. When I asked Kim if I could take her photo, she declined because of cyber-stalkers. She angers them when she uncovers their schemes, and now she must be careful. Best excuse ever.

John (I'm 95% sure that's his name), theoretical physicist at Nasa Ames. Owns a cabin in the Sierras. We impressed each other with our respective familiarity levels with each other's fields. I knew "Nasa Ames" and things about the space program without being prompted. He mentioned Tom Wolfe and Truman Capote when I told him what I did. It was great.

Beate, nurse with a lovely german accent. She's a backpacker, snow camper, shell-picker-upper, seal-noticer, and nice-person-to-talk-to extraordinaire.

Sang Ay, whose mother insists she keep her Korean name. Public defender who graduated from Danny's law school. She tried to convince everyone that these:

were called Flamingo Flowers and that the cows we passed were dangerous. Made my mouth water with tales of her last 2 vacations, south India and Thailand.

The verdict: I'm sold on this Meetup group even long after the project ends, and I hope many of the same people continue to show up! I'm very glad that Encantada got me off my butt and on the trail.

Day 7: Anyone can cook, Anyone can fail

2009-08-28T23:45:00.000-07:00

Remy, from Ratatouille. Not quite my new friend...

Technically, I met my goal today: I met someone new. In a non-technical sense, however, I blew it.

Well, that's not quite fair. I actually put in a serious, good-faith effort at making a new acquaintance tonight. A woman named Tara, a friend of my aunt's, told me about an event she was attending this evening: free outdoor movie at Charles Chocolate Factory in Emeryville. Tonight's offering? Ratatouille.

That sounded positively delightful, so I went ahead and reserved free tickets for myself and the mister. Tara and I exchanged phone numbers, and planned to meet up once we got there ("I'll call you," she said.)

By the time Danny and I made our way to the gated plaza (parking lot?) that was serving as a theater, the movie had started and my phone hadn't rung. As we sat down, I realized I'd left Tara's number in the car.

Throughout the movie I checked my phone a few times. At a slow point, I got up and jogged back to get the post-it I'd left in the car. I sent her a text message, then settled in for more adorable Disney/Pixar delights. Sinking feeling about the project, though -- and I hadn't even left the house today until 6 pm, so it's not like I had any backups available.

By the time the movie ended it was almost 11, which seemed late to be bugging her if she in fact wasn't there. But hurray! My pocket rang! But oh no, she had to leave. "Maybe we can get together another time," she offered. "I'll just come say hi now so at least I'll know what you look like," I countered, determined to minimize the lameness on my part.

So I did that. No camera with me, I realized, and I didn't want to be that blatant about it. We didn't get a chance to talk at all, though she seemed like a very nice person.

Then I went home.

So yes, a fail. But not completely.

Day 6: Solidarity

2009-08-28T00:08:00.000-07:00

Maria full of grace.

There's something nice about a formal introduction. A person you know presents to you a person you don't know, physically and actually right there in front of you. The conversation meanders, wandering between the absolute preliminaries and the things-in-common beyond. And if the introducer is someone you see a lot (say, your boyfriend), then there's the added ease of knowing you'll likely see your new acquaintance again too, that their friendship will beget yours. You're not at this on your own.

This is how I met Maria. It's not actually that Danny, my law student boyfriend, knows her all that well; she's a first year student (a one-L as they call them), so maximum time of acquaintance is less than two weeks. But he'd met her already, realized he liked her, and kindly brought her over to the corner to where I'd retreated tonight at the bar.

The event was a weekly gathering of progressive, alternative law students called Solidarity Bar Review. It happens at the same time as and in not quite opposition to a separate gathering of merely liberal law students, called Bar Review. I'd heard about such things, but never been to either.

The bar itself, Thalassa, was pretty darned great. It was sprawling but in a good way, like you think you'd taken it all in and then you'd notice a doorway that led to yet another enormous room. Vast galleries of pool tables beckoned, and these were the classy kind: you pay by the hour. There's a back patio with another table out there, spotlighted like a movie set. The music was loud but the drinks were good and reasonably priced.

The only problem was the herding. As I mentioned, this place is huge. Couches, tables, standing room abounds. But somehow, at least 85% of the evening's patrons found it absolutely necessary to stand within 12 feet of the bar. Walk away, you could do cartwheels. Get close, you can hardly breath.

The absurd crowd situation. Empty, but look at the horde in the background

This is a situation I cannot handle. Not only are crowds loud and unpleasant and likely to make me spill my beer; this was a completely illogical crowd. Why would everyone stand all packed in like that with so much glorious room to move and hear? Because everyone else was standing there too.

Still, I couldn't bear it. Neither could Danny. This may be related to why we make a good couple. We both retreated to the quiet side, and I despaired of actually meeting someone. But then Danny disappeared for a drink refill and returned with Maria in tow, a fellow crowd-disliker. In solidarity, we stood around and talked.

For someone who just moved to town, she was pretty impressively on her feet. This was the first law school event she'd been to because she has so many other friends around (college, etc). She lives with chemistry grad students, always a smart idea to avoid getting sucked in to the small world. As we talked, I felt strangely knowledgeable about the ways of the law school world.

Maria just moved from Colorado, and when I heard that, immediately another kind of solidarity kicked in: the Rocky Mountain states kind. Yes! Here's someone who understands what it is to like winter because it brings beautiful snow, someone who gets high-elevation and having towering peaks in your backyard.

We talked about law school, and about geography, and about writing, and it was easy because I know I'll see her again. She's planning on joining the environmental law journal that Danny's on, and that means many more social events with beer. As she left to go meld into the crowd, I yelled out, "See you around!" over the blaring music, and I knew it was true. Solid.

Day 5: No talking with your feedback

2009-08-26T23:15:00.000-07:00

Diane, writerly

This is going to be a cranky post.

I arrived about 3 minutes late to The Berkeley Writers Circle meetup at Au Coquelet Cafe, and a poem was in full swing. I pulled up a chair to the crowded row of tables, probably 20 people in all, and sat back to listen. But I could hardly hear. Luckily, there was a printout in front of me as well.

Fast bits of feedback, and we've moved on to the next reading, a metaphorical dreamy thing about a river. Then a cute love story told through back-and-forth postcards. Then a chapter in a novel about writing a novel.

I am not exactly meeting anyone at this moment. I gather that the woman next to me is named Lisa, as we share a printed copy of a story and try to write comments on the same piece of paper simultaneously as the author reads the words out loud. I cannot write comments, cannot even correct spelling and punctuation, at the pace a person reads aloud. I am lost. Lisa is better at it. Her handwriting is beautiful and her vocal comments sharp.

The meeting then transitions into a discussion of how these meetings should run. It's a meta kind of day, I guess. This is apparently a once-yearly event; I picked the fated week. I chime in despite my lack of tenure. Nobody has a clue who I am.

Meeting finishes on schedule around 9:30. The folks sitting near me all disperse, but a few hang around to talk.

It's at this point I meet Diane. She, like myself, is a wide-eyed newbie in the group. She intends to use the regular meetings to inspire her to actually write the fiction (science fiction) stories she has rattling around in her head. She is kind, self-deprecating, friendly, enthusiastic. She's 3 months off chemo and feels "even better than before. There's nothing like being sick for nine months to make you feel really great."

We talk a bit, and I like her. But I'm tired. I don't have it in me. She suggests we get a coffee, but it's 10 pm and all I want is to go home. Five days in and I'm wearing thin. Oh dear.

She tells me she read somewhere about another person doing a 30-days-of-meeting-people blog. "I'm the queen of search, I'll find it for you." Link will appear when she does, I'm curious.

This group could, in theory, be a great, ongoing, sustainable way to meet people. They get together every week and they all share something that interests me. But I'm already in a writing group, one that gets deeper on each piece, one that I've invested in. Still, I like giving and hearing comments, not just on my own work, and it's great meeting other people who write. Perhaps I'll dabble, come now and then. I hope Diane makes it more often than that: I hear she's got some good stories.

Day 4: Flowers at the door

2009-08-25T23:13:00.000-07:00

Her many bouquets, some delivered by strangers

*UPDATE: At the request of the participant, who hasn't told everyone about her situation yet, I have removed her photo and references to her name.

"Dear Rachel,
I just read your email and I have a wonderful idea. One of my very dear friends got diagnosed 1.5 weeks ago with Ovarian Cancer....She is a one of a kind and I love her dearly. Please please please, could you, THIS WEEK, drop by her home with flowers??? It would mean the world to me."

As if I'd say no.

The bouquet from the farmer's market made it home in my backpack relatively unscathed. I put away the groceries, got cleaned up, then started on my mission.

All my friend had given me was a name and an address, three blocks from my house. As I walked the familiar path towards an unfamiliar destination, a hum of anticipation started growing in my stomach. The sun was low in the sky, the air crisp. The thick bunch flowers in my hand seemed like a physical incarnation of the energy I was trying to gather and project, warmth and radiance and caring.

Is it that house with the blue paint and the prayer flags? The one with the high wooden gate? The numbers ticked up towards my destination. Then the street ended. I called my friend, left a message: "Did you give me the wrong address? Can you tell me what the house looks like?" I stood in the street, like a loitering bridesmaid, and looked up and down.

Oh! Right. It's one block over. So nervous, so eager, I'd turned too soon. "You shouldn't have," the grungy young guy on the porch jokes as I head down the proper street.

The house does have prayer flags. The sound of conversation from inside. I ring the bell.

"Are you [X]?" I ask the woman who opens the door. "Miranda sent me." She laughs. This is the third bouquet to arrive care of Miranda, who herself is far far away. We stand there a moment, looking at each other, no movement. I press the case. "She wanted you to have these, and she wanted us to meet." I explain the project. She invites me in.

Three other women are gathered around the table, just finishing dinner. I sit down at the empty chair, and though they offer, don't eat. They all have beautiful tattoos and warm smiles and are friendly to the stranger who just crashed their meal.

At this table, there are issues more pressing than my quest for new friends. I'm happy to listen and chime in where I can. We make small talk about jobs and pets and origins and big talk about what happens and what matters when suddenly you don't have your health. They talk about a party coming up and about giving each other rides.

It's wonderful to see this kind of community in action, even from the outside. I feel slightly the voyeur. These women have years of friendship accumulated, and I arrived unannounced. No one was prepared for making new connections -- this is a time for sustaining the old ones, relying on the familiar to help forget the strange. Still, I hope I can be of help, bring something to this group. I say nothing when people start clearing the dishes, but my instinct is to jump in and help.

Before I leave, we exchange phone numbers. Maybe soon we'll meet for a walk.

***

I can't find the words to say more; I don't feel like I own the scene I witnessed once I walked inside that lovely house. Not that I'm hiding anything; it's just the phrases slide to vague. To write it in detail would be to betray it in a way, to get cold and calculating and make judgements and presumptions that might offend. Or else to wax ecstatic in an equally unhelpful way. I'm suffering the inherent contradiction between being a journalist relating to a subject and being a person trying to make a friend. When in doubt, in this setting, I'm choosing friend.

Day 3: Falafel on the grass

2009-08-24T21:07:00.000-07:00

Dan, full and happy after a falafel lunch

From the moment I saw the pannier, I was pretty sure this was going to work.

At approximately 12:30 pm PDT today, I wove my way past a horde of new college students crowding the sidewalk near Wells Fargo, waiting their turn to spin a wheel and win prizes including -- I kid you not -- Lays potato chips and two separate flavors of Ramen noodles. What message are we trying to send our youth? That the freshman fifteen is a graduation requirement? That American banks can no longer afford anything better to give away? What happened to pens?

I digress.

Once I'd parked my bike amidst the chaos, I walked a couple doors down the street towards a lunch date that promised food vastly more delectable than the deep-fried calories near the ATM. I was feeling a little guilty for having lured my new acquaintance into the heart of such insanity -- I knew that Sunrise Deli was usually packed at lunch, but I'd forgotten that this week was Orientation.

I've got to say, this project is making me appreciate the internet more than ever before. Recognizing a blind date used to involve carrying a flower or tying a ribbon in your hair; this time, Dan, a friend of friend, and I made sure to exchange links to photos of ourselves before our get together. I recognized him right away, towering above the fray like a beacon of serenity, largely unfazed though slightly in awe of the frenzy around us. We ducked into the deli to get food.

This was my first pre-arranged encounter, and it was a fantastic way to start. Dan was one of the first people to respond to the flurry of "please help me meet people" emails I sent out to everyone I could think of. He's the old pal of a college buddy who I haven't seen in years (hurray for casting a wide net). He was enthusiastic about the project, especially because he could relate; he'd been here 3 years and had little to show for it in the way of a social network himself.

One of the first things I noticed about Dan, beside the fact that he's very tall, is that the bag he was carrying was one of the nicest bike panniers I've ever seen. (For those who aren't aware, those are the special bags that hook onto the side of your bike and make things easy to carry.) I took this as an extremely positive sign: people who use bikes to commute around in their daily lives are as a rule people I very much like.

After ordering lunch (we both got the same thing -- falafel sandwich), we darted across the street to an alluring patch of grass on the Berkeley campus, and proceed to picnic and converse for at least an hour. Turns out the fancy panniers are a by-product of a 3,800 mile bike trip he did last year, from Seattle to Boston. Other cool things about Dan: he's a teacher; he did a stint in Americorps; he likes hiking and backpacking; he's a rather serious-seeming runner.

Our main topic of conversation was, however, The Encantada Project and its implications. This is becoming a pattern; I think I may have hit onto an underground stream of alienation running wide and deep. (That is not to imply that Dan is widely and deeply alienated. My impression was that he is not.)

The most knotty question of the afternoon: How do you make that leap from Acquaintance You Enjoy to Actual Friend? Repeated, shared experiences was our conclusion, but that's just the beginning of an answer. Without a structure that brings you together with regularity, how to you make sure that kind of contact happens?

Therein lies the rub, the systemic flaw of our highly mobile, encapsulated modern world. I'd like to say we vowed to transcend it, but it's possible Dan and I will, as usual, succumb to the twin forces of inertia and fear (of rejection, of intimacy, of awkwardness) and never hang out again. I hope not. We'll see. Either way, lunch was great.

Day 2: Vegan Potluck Delight

2009-08-23T22:02:00.000-07:00

Sarah and Chris at the vegan potluck

Today I tried a different tactic to find a new acquaintance: Meetup.com.

This social networking website essentially facilitates gatherings; it is to get-togethers what dating sites are to romance. I'd always imagined it as a place where people could find others to discuss obscure branches of philosophy in smoky Manhattan bars, but last month while I was in Maryland, a friend and I participated in a practice triathlon convened using Meetup. Real people, real cool things happening. Definitely an important Encantada Project tool.

This morning I was browsing the local Meetup listings, and nearly jumped out of my chair with joy when I discovered that the "Vegans for Action Monthly Potluck/Lecture series" group was having a potluck this very evening! Twenty-five people were already signed up. I RSVPed saying I'd be there, then relaxed knowing that my ticket to success today was as easy as a bowl of roasted potato salad.

My original plan had been to go to a radio regatta in Oakland. I'm sure it would have been fun, but much more stressful in terms of meeting people -- outdoor events seem to be better as things to attend with folks you already know, rather than as places to make new connections.

The potluck went as well as I'd hoped. I plopped down with a plate of amazing food at the end of one of a line of plastic tables, and spent over an hour getting to know several fine people with whom I already had something in common.

There was Sarah, who had adorable cat-eye librarian glasses, which makes sense because she's a librarian. Chris is a plumber who grew up in the same town as me -- instant connection. He clued us in on how college radio stations are a stellar place for scoring free tickets to music events. I extolled the virtues of the pressure cooker to everyone around. Sarah bemoaned the way that commuting from Oakland to her two jobs in San Francisco and Hayward, respectively, left her little time for anything but cooking great farmer's market food. That is a problem I can understand.

The Encantada Project itself came up once again, this time right at the start; Ron, the animal activist who sat next to me, asked how I'd found out about the event, and I told the whole story. Whereafter a large part of our table's conversation centered around ways to meet people, and why doing so can be dastardly hard. There was an honesty hovering over the meal that was more refreshing than the food, even including the sparkling pomegranate juice.

Chris and I made plans to get together again soon (if it goes through, there will be another post). I told Sarah we should cook dinner sometime, and meant it, though who knows if it will happen. Ron encouraged me to keep coming back to the monthly gatherings. I will.

By the time I left to head home, I was tempted to do a little victory dance. If the rest of the month goes like this, I'll have more friends than I can handle. Fantastic.

Day 1: 3 D's at the Winery

2009-08-22T16:28:00.000-07:00

Danny, Deb, and Doug at Two Mile winery

Lesson 1: Wine helps.

For my first day of official encountering, I decided that an end-of-summer party hosted by a local winery, Two Mile Wines, might provide a good setting for a spontaneous introduction to someone cool. At the very least, I'd get to know a neat local business and drink something tasty. After all, I'm trying to get to know my community; there's no reason that shouldn't include the buildings, shops, and businesses in it.

The winery itself is inconspicuous, tucked back off the street in an area of town I associate more with auto body shops than with fine foods. But once I stashed my bike and found the tasting room, it was all I'd want a local winery to be: exposed brick walls, art everywhere, Christmas lights, delicious hors d'oeuvres in the Chez Panisse tradition (watermelon and feta? really?), and a DJ spinning chill electronica on two actual turntables.

It was standing at the bar, sipping on a free tasting flight, that I met my new friends for today. Deb and Doug live in Fairfield, halfway to Sacramento, but are originally from the area and were down for the day. They were waiting for their friend Danny, who had an errand across the street, and wandered in for the good wine. We chatted about life in Berkeley and the virtues of living in Fairfield, which until today I knew only as 'home of the Jelly Belly factory I once toured when I was 12 years old.' It wasn't the longest or deepest conversation, but I could tell very quickly that these are warm, friendly people.

After about 20 minutes, I got up the courage to ask if they'd be OK with me taking their picture and becoming part of the project. They were enthusiastic (Doug even orchestrated the composition), and suddenly our casual encounter took on a new weight.

"My band's doing a show in Suisin Valley next month, you should come up with your boyfriend," Doug offered.

"I'd think you'd have 100 friends, you seem so at ease for someone your age," said Danny. My response: "The wine helps."

I gave Deb my business card with the website written on it, and they promised to come check it out.

So there you have it, 3 new friends who, if all goes well, may introduce me to another side of the Bay Area completely. Hear that guys? I want the details of that show! And even if I never see them again, I got out of the house and into the community for the day. I'd call that a solid start...

Intro Part 2: The Solution

2009-08-20T18:46:00.000-07:00

I hereby commit to documenting the meeting of at least one new person every day for thirty days. When possible, I will include a photo. "Meeting" a person will consist, at minimum, of the following:

Learning his or her name
Having a conversation about our lives
Considering the possibility of doing so again

How will this be a solution, you ask?

There's a parable I heard from an art teacher once; it may be the only genuinely memorable thing she every told me. I goes something like this:

"The ceramics teacher announced on opening day that he was dividing the class into two groups. All those on the left side of the studio, he said, would be graded solely on the quantity of work they produced, all those on the right solely on its quality.

His procedure was simple: on the final day of class he would bring in his bathroom scales and weigh the work of the “quantity” group: fifty pound of pots rated an “A”, forty pounds a “B”, and so on. Those being graded on “quality”, however, needed to produce only one pot—albeit a perfect one—to get an “A”.

Well, came grading time and a curious fact emerged: the works of highest quality were all produced by the group being graded for quantity. It seems that while the “quantity” group was busily churning out piles of work—and learning from their mistakes—the “quality” group had sat theorizing about perfection, and in the end had little more to show for their efforts than grandiose theories and a pile of dead clay."
-(The exact quotation is supposedly from the book Art and Fear. I have not verified that fact.)

Cheesy? Perhaps. Apocryphal? Probably. But it's a useful idea to those of us who are hampered by our own urge towards perfection, and who let good be the enemy of best.

So enough worrying about awkward social situations, about whether putting myself out there in this particular instance is worth it. For at least one month, the answer is yes.

I'm going to need help. If you live in the Bay Area, we haven't met, and you think we ought to, drop me a line. If you know someone in the Bay Area you think might be interested in being met, help me get in touch with them. If you hear about an event where people will be milling around introducing themselves, send me an invite.

The project will officially start on Saturday, August 22, 2009. Encantada de conocerle.

Intro Part 1: The Problem

2009-08-20T18:19:00.000-07:00

I haven't always been this bad at making friends. Used to be, my daily routines plunged me in with a teeming mass of acquaintances, and out of the swarm I always managed to find a few great people to connect with. Then ambition and wanderlust and dreams of self-fulfillment would send us spiraling away from each other again, ties stretched across time zones, "close friend" a figure of speech.

Melodramatic photo by monkeyc.net on flickr.com

This was sad but also natural in a way, the typical pattern of the educated children of the modern middle class. Each community was like a deep breath: essential and invigorating, but replaceable too, something you had to let go to move forward. There'd always be another one out there.

Except this time there wasn't. This time, when I took the plunge, it was into a very lonely pool.

It's my own fault, of course. In August 2008, I quit my job at a natural history museum in Utah, moved to California with my boyfriend, and decided to become a writer. I enrolled in an MFA program that operates long-distance, meeting in person only twice a year. Now I spend most days at home alone, researching and writing and occasionally doing interviews. It's a great life, but it doesn't provide automatic ways to meet people.

For the first year, I made a casual effort to make some friends. I got in touch with everyone I already knew in the Bay Area. I joined an ultimate frisbee team and a writing group and went to my boyfriend's law-school social events. But on the one year anniversary of my move to this lively town, I had to face the facts: my strategy wasn't working. I'd met some great people, and had some good times, but I didn't feel part of a network, a community. I was happy to spend my birthday backpacking in the Sierras; I could sidestep the fact that I wouldn't have been able to scratch up even a small celebration.

It's time for Plan B. It's time for The Encantada Project.