Click Clique

When I got involved in the Burning Man community six years ago, then-friend-and-later-partner Stuart described it as "all the kids who ate lunch by themselves."  


That was a perfect fit for me.  While I only ate lunch by myself a handful of times (I preferred to escape to the library to avoid awkward social situations), I was definitely not a cool kid.  My parents were divorced which was not a common thing.  In 4th grade, I decided I wanted large frames for my glasses that were similar to my teacher's, thus producing a bevy of photos where my glasses are almost larger than my face (looking back, I have to ask - why did NO ONE stop me?).  I preferred the company of books to other kids.  In high school, I participated in the requisite non-conformist-angsty-teenager bullshit and wrote pages and pages of depressing poetry.  As a 13 year old, I fantasized about moving out of my mom's house because I thought (and it turns out I was right) I would probably be a better adult than she is.  My mom used to say I was "10 going on 40."  She was right. 


In the beginning, Burning Man was all about reclaiming my lost childhood...  which perhaps wasn't as lost as it was compressed into an unnaturally short period of time.  I found burners to be much more open than "regular people."  I suddenly had a bunch of new friends, lots of things to do on the weekends, and a way to channel my overly adult tendencies into experiences that allowed me to play, grow, and be.  


It has been an incredible experience.  I've witnessed art that took my breath away, found joy in things I never thought I would, and have met some truly special people.  I cannot honestly say that Burning Man changed my life, but the community I've become a part of has profoundly changed me.  


Lately though, I've had the chorus running through my head of "One Of These Things Is Not Like The Other".  I'm not sure who is the thing and who is the other but the pieces aren't fitting together as nicely anymore.  My community is starting to feel like a pair of shoes you dearly love but are falling apart.  I've been trying to pinpoint why...  


I am feeling bored by the requisite fire spinning and/or hula hooping that seems to happen to at nearly every event.  Instead of appreciating those experienced in the art of poi, I want to chuck them at someone's head.  


I am annoyed by the "spirituality" (=lack of personal responsibility) that has become rampant.  Jaded Cynical Atheist reporting for duty!  As someone put it recently... "Just because two things happen close together does not mean they are related."  Yes, yes, fucking yes.  If I hear that "things happen for a reason" or "such-and-such was not meant to be", I might just anally rape someone with a fire staff.  I won't feel bad about it either.  I really do try to be tolerant of people with imaginary friends or ridiculous ideas about the world but am failing miserably.  Which brings me to my next point...


Maybe I'm just getting old.  Maybe I'm rapidly approaching Get-Off-My-Lawn old person-hood.  I haven't yet reached the point where I want to do my crossword puzzle and you should shut the fuck up, but I feel it might be rapidly approaching.  


Maybe my inner child has died.  Perhaps I will wear black today to commemorate.  


And then there are the drugs.  Drugs too are rampant in the community.  I really have no issue with recreational drug use.  But it seems that every event and every party is merely an excuse to listen to loud music, get fucked up and make poor decisions which will later be dismissed as what the universe has destined for you.  My hard-won conclusion about this is that interactions with people are ceasing to feel real.  The "connections" that happen under the influence don't feel legitimate.  I find myself shying away from people I'm interested in getting to know because they're in Saucer-Sized-Pupil-Land.  Although I grew up in Nancy's Just Say No era, I don't always.  However, I tend to limit my occasional yeses to small groups of people who have also said yes.  With close friends and partners, it's more of a bonding experience.  And maybe Saucer-Sized-Pupil-Partakers are having a bonding experience with me...  I'm just not feeling it. 



Finally, there are the people who live for Burning Man.  They eat, sleep, and breathe it.  You can identify them by the tickers on their Facebook pages as to how many days until the man burns or their condescending references to "the default world."  Living for one week in a place that could fairly described as a "dusty hellhole" is utterly depressing to me.  I want to shake those people violently and scream "STOP IT."  I would also like them to critically evaluate why their default world sucks so much.  Ooooh.  It's probably the universe's fault. 


I'm currently stuck in this weird limbo of not wanting to break up with Burning Man yet not feeling terribly connected to it either.  I have committed to attending this year but am waffling as to whether I'll actually go.  It upsets me to think that perhaps I've outgrown something that has been so near and dear to my heart for six years.  But I have to acknowledge that my heart isn't in it right now.  I am truly faking it like a porn star.