“Writing is the process of baring your humanity on a page of paper.”
I heard this quote while listening to NPR one night and it just resonated with me, specifically because it seems to be a plausible reason as to why I write. And don’t worry, this post is not a vacation recap of how amazing Bend is, and how much I want to move there—that type of post is more in line with a person who sends out holiday cards recapping the entire year, which I am not…no shade. Being in Bend afforded me the time to slow down, and with slowing down came more introspection. Also, I was with my friend, Lauren, and we have a tendency to engage in deep conversations, and combined with my own introspection, led to some revelations.
Revelations on My Narcissism
Nothing makes me confront my own narcissism more than when I am in the company of friends who are not just not narcissistic, but completely opposite, and shy away from most and any attention? I spent time with two such friends in Bend, Oregon: Lauren and Emily. I truly think that they are totally unaware that you can turn your phone/camera toward yourself and take a selfie—as you know, I am totally aware. So what’s the revelation other than me writing yet another post about me. The revelation is the amount of grace they (and most of my friends, actually) afford me to be my narcissistic self. In fact, they and most of my friends enable, no enable is not a good word choice (or is it?). Support? Tolerate? My narcissism. I know, hello proper grammar? And that’s why I love writing to bare my humanity rather than for notoriety. Blessings to all of my friends who tolerate, some support, and a few even encourage me to record our private moments, take screen caps of our conversations, and for me sometimes forgetting that you are even in the room during the process.
Revelations on Who People Think I Am
After being diagnosed with atrial flutter, I told my friend Hackim and he confidently responded saying something like there is nobody stronger to take this on than me. And ever since then, I have been trying to live up to this strong person that Hackim thinks I am. I get it. Hackim has witnessed me charging up steep climbs and riding people off my wheel, and he naturally thinks that my athletic prowess carries over into personal struggles. Sounds reasonable but I haven’t found it to be the case. Rather than feeling strong, I have been mostly pessimistic for the past three months. In fact, I think it is because of my athletic prowess that I have not been strong.
Choosing to ride up a steep mountain or ride a person off my wheel is my choice and mostly in my control. I do not choose atrial flutter, long COVID and anxiety, and they often feel out of my control. I like to be in control, especially when I’m struggling with something like my health and anxiety. But the past three months have taught me that sometimes, it is better to surrender than to try and assert control. For example, my current protocol for anxiety is to let it run its course. Initially, I fought it and tried to force myself out of it. Now, I acknowledge it, and I ride it out, and in the meantime, I treat the symptoms as I would with a cold or some benign illness. I phone a friend, take a walk or exercise, write, all the while telling myself that things will turn, and just to be patient, and be hopeful. My goal for the next couple of months is to add “be strong”, and be the person my friends think that I am . I am one step closer since doing a fateful trail run in Bend with Sarah, who dished out some much needed therapy in the form of amazing advice. I listened to every word, Sarah.
Neighborly Communities
Almost everywhere I walked in Bend, strangers would make eye contact with me and greet me with a warm hello. Service workers were cordial and often engaged with me above and beyond the transactional conversation. Both Lyft drivers, from and to the airport, engaged me in conversation for the entire 30-minute ride. My friend, Lauren, jokingly said that people were overcompensating with me so that they don’t come off as racist. Plausible. Me, coming from the Bay Area was like W. T. F. #IYKYK. It got me thinking as to why some communities are much more neighborly than others. Why are the people of Bend, Oregon so neighborly, and more importantly, how the f*** can the Bay Area become more like this? I don’t have an explanation but if you do, please share in the comments. I am not sure if neighborly is the right word because it is just a form of politeness, and susceptible to disingenuous behavior.
All I know is that I met some quality human beings while in Bend, Oregon from first-time encounters to friends of friends. The jovial grocery store clerk who complimented my taste in food, offered me some suggestions, which led us to talking about all sorts of other things. Lauren’s friends, Ant and Claire, who I immediately knew are exceptional human beings because of their warmth and sense of humor, and more importantly, I was on the receiving end of such warmth and humor. And let’s not forget Emily’s friend, Sarah, the trail run therapist. Cough away that atrial flutter #IYKYK. How do we build more neighborly communities in 2024?
LOL I +1 what Lauren said on Oregon people not wanting to seem racist.
I have a lot of theories on why smaller towns feel more neighborly, and I don't think it's going to change the Bay Area any time soon.
1. Smaller towns have smaller populations, which means there's a higher likelihood you'll bump into someone you know when you're out and about. This automatically primes people to be more open and aware of their surroundings, and fosters a sense of familiarity.
2. Racial and socioeconomic homogeneity also helps with people feeling more open to others. Put in other words - when you see someone who looks like you, you can empathize with them more. And conversely, when you're in a more diverse place, you're less likely to look at a random person and think, "Ah yes, I know what this person is going through". This makes it less likely for people to want to help each other (think tribalist mentality) and more likely to keep to themselves.
3. Big cities have an urban environment that are more anonymous... people feel disconnected from their neighbors due to the sheer number of individuals around. Imagine if you struck up 30 min conversations with every single person you saw in Oakland / SF. You would be exhausted and never get to where you needed to go (which also is a double whammy, since in the Bay your personal schedule is usually of the utmost importance)
I also have a theory that the traffic / geographic footprint of SF / Oakland are too big for people. When I lived in Denver, no friend lived further than a 20 minute drive. I was much more willing to go see people across town, to linger at my work place talking to a coworker, to putz around... because I knew getting home was a not-too-trafficky 20 minute drive. Here in the Bay, you can see a lot of things because things are dense, but your friends / community are not often a painless 20 minutes away. There's some friction involved (dangerous bike commute where i have to think about where to lock my bike, an unpredictable BART train, expensive Lyft, etc etc). The effort it takes to get places is higher, which makes people rush about to make their schedules??
All this to say... What SF / Oakland lacks in neighborlessness, it makes up for in different ways. But I agree in that I miss this friendliness of smaller towns! Also just generally outside of California people are nicer lol.
Maybe the answer to building more neighborly communities in the Bay is that fundamentally you have to get really hyperlocal. You have to focus on a smaller unit of geographic area that would have the same amount of people. AKA your building, or your street, has as many people in it as a neighborhood in Bend. And you focus on making connections there?
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You do really love your selfies, but I don't think it's narcissism. I think you're reminding yourself that you have a good life, good friends, that you visit interesting places. And you like sharing those memories with others.
There are the kinds of people who claim not to be narcissistic, but then don't listen deeply to others or pay attention to their surroundings because they're really thinking about themselves. And that's not you: you're a great listener, a generous friend, and always observant.
Oaxacans have been so nice to me — maybe they don't want to seem racist!? Okay, JK, JK.
I agree with everything Chi wrote. When we moved to Berkeley, I was like, "Ima talk to every neighbor I see every time I walk Coco." Which I did for the first couple of months and it was great. But soon enough, I couldn't walk the dog without losing an hour (while nervously checking my commute time on G Maps). So I changed my walking path and became just another socially isolated, lame Californian listening to a podcast or webinar while efficiently walking the dog.
Small is nice. Not being rushed is nice.