Chris’ mention of his own “nerd puberty”:http://underwhelm.livejournal.com/270755.html has sent me into deep recollection of my own experimentation as a young adult. In that time of my life, there was very little that I did that wasn’t a quest for more knowledge — pure experimentation in an effort to learn about myself, my world, and human nature.
Much of my early experimentation was related to computers. The order of its world intrigued me. The raw power of it drew me near — so inaccessible to most people, bottled up in a small, subservient box waiting for my command. Night after night I would spend hours in front of a command line. I wanted to learn and, since there was no one around to teach me, I was going to teach myself. There was an entire world, hidden from the view of most people, available under the simple keystrokes of this complex machine and I wanted to know every inch of its surface.
As I got older, my experimentation branched into other areas of life. I wanted to learn about people, and music, and god, and sex, and girls. I wanted to write poetry in France, speak Spanish in Spain, climb mount Everest, surf the the coast of California, act at the Globe Theatre, and dance at Stonehenge. By this time, I was deeply rooted in the world of computers, and, regardless of what I did, this fascination played a huge role.
The concept of free time was absurd and foreign. It wasn’t that I didn’t have any. Instead, I had so much that I wanted to do and learn and see and know that the idea of not doing anything, even for a few minutes, didn’t make sense. I was always doing *something*. If my face wasn’t illuminated by a computer monitor, it was crammed into a book, or mouthing the words to the Punk music pouring out of the hallways of Berkeley. If I wasn’t flirting with a girl or writing poetry in a coffee house, I was discussing the existence of God or playing a game of Go.
I found a strong interest in photography and taught myself everything I wanted to know in about a year. My interest in the Internet and technology only fueled this as there was so much information available to me if I knew how to find it. And I did.
In my first year of college, things started to change. I still had the desire for knowledge and experimentation, but my focus shifted. Learning, at least up until this point, had been a, mostly, introverted activity. Sure, I’d discus my findings with others, and share poems or stories with the beret wearing girl I had a crush on. But, for the most part, the real learning, the real experimentation, took place alone. While I had always had an interest in girls, and was almost always “with” someone, it wasn’t until this point that I started to actively seek that knowledge. I wanted to know everything there was to know about girls, and love, and sex. And I wanted as much of all three as possible.
These newfound interests only enhanced the list of things I was already constantly studying and improving on. And, while the things I did didn’t change much, they occurred less frequently as I was doing so many other things as well. Additionally, by this point, I was holding a full time job, and living on my own. This meant I had less time to do what I wanted to do. The jobs I held were interesting, at first. But, after 8 hours a day for a few months, I’d learn everything I possibly could about that job, and then I’d start to get bored. However, I still had enough time outside of work to pursue the things I really loved.
I’d take photographs of my best-friend’s girlfriend that flirted on the edge of nude. Then the three of us would share cigarettes and poetry on our patio. I’d go to parties and drink, though I wasn’t much of a drinker, to meet new people. One time, through a random series of events, I attempted to pierce a girls nipple right at my dining room table. I watched two people have sex on my bedroom floor. I started many a drunken game of truth or dare. And, of course, I will still coding regularly, reading technical manuals, listening to live music, and studying the religions of the world. My interest in human nature found me sitting at airports and shopping malls with a journal and a camera, watching people on a regular basis.
Somehow, this thirst has faded away. It slipped slowly and mostly unnoticed, until now. Now, as I struggle to recall the last truly interesting thing I’ve studied, or that last absurd thing I did in the name of experimentation. I’m not sure if working the same 40 hour a week job for 7 years is the reason, or just the realization of responsibility. Perhaps getting married played a role in all of that. I’m really not sure. What I do know is that it’s not the same.
I think solitude plays a major role in it all. If not solitude in myself, at least solitude amongst people who have the same thirst for knowledge. With other people around, you worry about putting them off, or boring them to tears. You think to yourself, “they don’t want to take 40 photographs of the same tree so that, later, you can study the effect different apertures, shutter speeds, and focal lengths play on depth of field. They just want to take the picture, and keep on walking.” You think, “they don’t really care about how my computer knows which application to use to display various different file formats, or what peer-2-peer technology was used to obtain a particular file. They just want to see Paris Hilton get it on with some guy in night vision.” In solitude, you have the luxury of catering to what you need, and to what you desire.
I don’t thirst for knowledge, like I did then. I’m more inclined to watch a good show on TV than I am to sit illuminated by a monitor coding for hours and hours until I realize that I have to be at work soon. I’m more likely to find an application that someone else has written and edit it to suit my needs than I am to start something new on my own. I don’t write poetry like I did. I don’t consume photography like I did. I don’t meet people like I did. I don’t party like I did.
Maybe this is a common loss among all people. Maybe everyone goes through this, at some time. Or maybe its just common among 40 hour a week office job type people. Or maybe it’s just married people. Or maybe it’s just me. Regardless of who else it affects, I feel its void.
I don’t mean to say that I’d rather do without my job, or my marriage, or what I’ve learned about responsibility and what is required of me as an adult. Those are important things and they teach me, regularly, important lessons. With my job, comes stability. With my marriage, comes happiness. With my responsibility, comes peace of mind. With my adulthood, comes privilege. However, I do want to stretch the bounds of the world I live in. I want to blur the edges between what I am, and what you are. I want to consume all the knowledge I can. I want to be 100 different people, all at the same time.
That thirst is still there. When something sparks my interest or imagination I can see it at work. Although it is rare, I can burn 4 hours without realizing it, pouring over a new piece of code, a poetry site, a photography anthology, or a new physics theory. I know I still have this internal need to know everything. I know I still desire to live every aspect of every lifestyle that I can possibly grasp in the 24 hours that are provided to me each day. I just have to find that spark again.
I want to thirst again.