"It's no problem, man. No problem at all." (A dream)

Those last words I said to him were out loud, in the real world, as I slipped back into consciousness.

He had collapsed and was laid up in the hospital and all of us, every one he'd met, had gathered to dance in his honor in a large, open area on campus. We had all done this once, and no one was afraid this time. We were happy, jovial. It's going to be okay. Then we got the word that he was home, and we all gathered up into an Army Deuce And A Half to make the trip out to his country home, navigating the fields and gardens.

We pulled up and we all jumped out and walked through his palatial country house, with flowers hanging in the veranda and old-style wooden doors. I pulled my shirt down over my sidearm, but we were greeted by his aunt and uncle, his uncle wearing his old flap-holster (oddly, on the same side that his arm was missing just above the elbow) from The War. We rounded a corner, and there he was, sitting near a corner of a rather large, open living room. I walked straight to him.

"How're you doing?" I asked as I hugged him. His hug in return felt practiced, but weak; he'd done this before.

"Ten years," he smiled as we broke apart.

"Plenty of time! Get everything done!" I exclaimed, more for myself than for him, gesturing and looking around at his house. I was trying to get used to the fact that the doctors said he only had ten years to live in a hurry. It's one thing to know you're going to die sometime; it's quite another to know how much time you've got left.

"I dunno," he said, starting to break down. "I still gotta pay this off," he indicated around to his country home, "I'm in negative money here, my brother is sick..." He was beginning to lose it, the tears plainly evident in his eyes. I looked back at him, making my decision on the spot.

"It's no problem, man. No problem at all." I meant those words, every last syllable. Even as I woke up from the dream, I realized that I was saying the words aloud to the cacophony of my two angrily-beeping alarm clocks. The words were true, and I understood them.

The "Me" in T-E-A-M

I think I've figured it out: all of my passions so far, all of my hobbies, have been solitary activities, ones where I set and meet the expectations, ones where I impress no one but myself, where failures only matter to me. I suppose that's the definition of a hobby, I guess, but they really haven't brought me happiness. Temporary, yes, until I get bored with it and move onto the next thing.

What I really seem to revel in is a team mentality, being a part of something. I feel this when I ride my bike with someone (like Team In Training or random people I meet on the trail), when I play soccer (by definition, a team sport), when I played in a band and when I auditioned for The Motive, or when I do any activity with someone else. Even if the actions and motions are inherently individual--I don't really need someone else there to 'help' me ride a bike, for instance--as long as there's someone else there doing it with me, then I'm happy.

This is perhaps the reason I don't play video games as much as I used to, the reason I haven't really gotten back into art or airplanes, the reason I was (am?) depressed after reading the "Thanks, but..." email from The Motive, the reason I scour the "Musicians Wanted" section of Craigslist: I am lacking in human company. Even if it's just to show off, I want someone there to show off to. The Internet doesn't count--put a couple of computers and The Cloud between me and my 'audience' and it takes all the fun out of it.

Now that I've identified it, what should I do about it? TNT happens every weekend, sure, and every now and then I do things with other people (i.e. going to the range, snowboarding, a buddy ride), but "every now and then" isn't often enough. I'd like for things to happen at least more than half the week, so that I can start to appreciate my "alone time" again.

Hmm, that's interesting--if I want to appreciate my individual hobbies, I need to increase my social contacts and situations. Curious.

It seems to go back to taking things for granted: back in school I was always surrounded by friends and activities, so I never really participated in any of them, and focused more on "being myself", since it felt like my social circle would be there forever, thus there'd be time enough to do things with them. Now that they're no longer there, I have plenty of time to be "me", and now I long for human contact again.

Having tasted both, it's time to strike a balance...