Facebook is an interesting thing, that I'm just beginning to learn about since I only created an account about six months ago. I'm the type of person who would much rather have meaningful face-to-face conversations with true friends than chat with people online who I barely recognize from my past or who I consider mere acquaintances of convenience. But that's just me, my personality.

I recently received a message via Facebook from one of my closest friends from high school. She had copied several others as well and is hoping to arrange somewhat of a reunion for next summer. She said she'd like to go on a canoe trip down the Wisconsin River just like we used to every summer from 1989 to 1998. I immediately began to reminisce over the past - recalling old memories, laughing to myself. Life was much simpler then.

It took me a few days to respond to my friend's initial message, but I found some of the other responses a bit humorous. The first to respond were the friends who are still living in Chicago, married and have children. They were quick to mention specific dates in which they would be available. They're ready to leave the city, to get out and be free for a short bit of time. The friends who responded later on were those like myself, having moved far from home and still flailing about the world, trying to grasp which direction to take next. They're ready to return home, but making plans a year in advance seems daunting and unrealistic. Who knows where we'll be tomorrow, let alone 12 months from now?

What I gather from these message threads is that the friends who are more settled in life are yearning for an escape from the mundane, but the friends who seem to be winging it through life are more interested in rekindling old friendships for a brief moment and then moving onto the next opportunity. It'll be interesting to see what follows in the next several months, if we can actually pull all of ourselves together to reconnect and enjoy ourselves, this time as adults instead of teenagers. Maybe it'll be an awkward experience, but maybe it'll also be rewarding and bring new memories for all of us to share.

I realize the How To Be Alone video has been going around the internet for a while now, but I just wanted to throw out some comments at this time. While this is a lovely poem that encourages people to embrace moments of solitude and understand that "alone is okay," I believe I've accomplished this task rather well over the past few years. What I actually need to work on is being comfortable with other people - taking the risk to meet new people. I understand myself and I'm happy with who I am, but I need to take the next step and invite others into my life. I feel that sometimes it's possible to become too comfortable inside one's little bubble of solitude that we forget there's an entire world out there to explore with others. I realize a lot of people will disagree with me, but I feel our reliance on and addiction to the internet doesn't help us connect with people on a personal level. It's much easier for us to chat with friends online than to actually put effort into meeting up with friends in person. Instead of focusing on our personal needs, we tend to distract ourselves with the overwhelming amount of information on the internet. I admit I'm guilty of this too - I've wasted hours of the evenings staring at my computer screen or chatting with friends online who only live blocks away. So, in some sense, we know how to be alone, but we don't know how to do so without distracting ourselves.

"Be nice to the registrar, or she will erase you from history."

I've been reviewing my family genealogy over the past few days in search of specific gaps that I'd like to fill within the next few years. Also, within the past 24 hours, I've learned of a dear friend's death but also that another friend has become pregnant. It's funny how life works out, and how a new form of life emerges from death (in my beliefs, at least). Regardless of the life event, I'm always intrigued by how we record these transitions from one generation to the next. We can always turn to the federal census, city hall records, church records, or local museums to discover the raw data, but how do we record actual memories and meaning - how do we keep an individual's life story? Do we all write memoirs, or record our oral histories? Do we tell stories to our children, or do we leave our personal possessions in the hands of museums? More importantly, does it matter - does it matter if we are remembered at all, or do we accept that our stories fade with our deaths?

I've been thinking a lot about these questions lately as I've been confronted with quite a few deaths recently, mainly elderly veterans who decided to leave their possessions at my museum just so their stories would be passed down to future generations. While it may be "just a job" to some, as a museum registrar, I feel personal responsibility to keep these stories alive. Once they're gone, they're gone, and there's no turning back.

Maybe this is why I constantly try to update my diaries, just so I can pass the volumes of notebooks down to my children. Maybe they'll be interested, or maybe they won't, but hopefully they'll find a place to keep them in case someone else is interested in what I once wanted to say about my life.

Wow, it's been quite a while since my last post. I went back home last week and had a lovely time (aside from the terrible flood caused by an overnight storm). I also spent some time with Lahrin, which was really great. Talking through some issues with her really helped to clear my head, so if you're reading this, thanks. :)

Over the past few days I've had some rather interesting confrontations with random people who have misidentified me in completely different ways:

1. This past weekend I went to Otakon with Willy - had a blast and spent way too much money on things I really don't need, but whatever. Anyway, when I approached the front desk at the registration booth to pick up my 18+ wristband, the guy asked me which anime character I was dressed as. I hadn't even dressed in costume! I was wearing my typical street clothes and told him this. He was completely embarrassed and kept apologizing. Of course, now I'm wondering exactly how cartoonish I look on a daily basis.

2. While walking down the street earlier this afternoon, I heard some kid yelling, "Zach" as he approached me from behind. Suddenly he grabbed my shoulder and yelled, "Yo, Zach! Are you coming?" I turned around to see a teenage boy staring at me, who then turned bright red and started apologizing for mistaking me as his friend, Zach. Come on now! I realize I have a shorter haircut these days and wear men's boots, but I really don't know how anyone can mistake me for a teenage boy. Oh well, it's a good thing I don't see much value in the gender binary. I still found the experience quite interesting though.