Alterna-Family

I recently started a new job. One aspect of this position is that my employer emphasizes an alternative work environment. This is probably giving you a mental image of 90's dot coms with pool tables and funky interior decorating. What I'm actually talking about, though, is on a totally different end of the new-workspace spectrum.

I live and work in a home with all of my coworkers--which fluctuates based on who's working abroad at any given time, but when I moved in was at 18.

When I found out that I'd gotten the position, I made a point of enjoying this as much as possible. I cannot tell you the fun that is involved in telling people in a somewhat conservative country, "I'm going to live in a commune." People in Chile thought I was crazy for being a vegetarian--dropping the C word definitely pushed me over into the "insane hippy" category for a few of the people I talked to. Which is a fun thing to accomplish for someone who hasn't owned anything patchwork since the 10th grade.

The truth is though, even my liberal friends were somewhat skeptical of this workspace/living space idea. Frankly, so was I. Imagine any work environment you've ever been in. Dramarama, correct? I worked as an apple-picker for awhile when I was living in New Zealand, and I discovered that it is possible to have office drama even when you have no office, work alone in a row of trees all day, and generally have your iPod on the whole time. (My favorite: "long-arming," which is when someone in the row next to you picks good clusters of apples from your side of the tree. Known long-armers became social pariahs...but we all did it on the sly.)

Now think about any living situation you've had that involved a high number of roommates. Chances are you still hate one of them. I know that I'm carrying around a couple of grudges; one for the girl who created insane house policies by posting angry announcements in the kitchen, one for the woman who would play music outside my door until 4 in the morning, and a big one for all of the people in hostels who pack each of their belongings in its own plastic bag and then pack at 5am. Or the ones who don't bring a flashlight when they know they're coming in late. Or the ones who talk when the other people staying in the room are sleeping. I guess I'll save this for a hostel manifesto.

I digress.

In any event, there are three areas of social contact that are extremely loaded: working together, living together, and traveling together. I have never had a friend with whom I was compatible on all three points. So signing up for a situation in which I would be doing all of these things with the same 20-odd people was a bit daunting.

And by daunting I mean, it sounded like a recipe for making my social life a living hell.

Well, thankfully, I was wrong. Way wrong. And what's followed in the three weeks since I arrived here has been one of those moments in your life when you realize that you've got yourself figured out wrong.

I think it may come down to having a weird set of genes. My father's family is full of loud social people--the kind of people where you pick up the phone and don't have to say your first word for at least 10 minutes. My mother's family, meanwhile, is full of people so reserved that conversation can be a matter of intense effort. So I wound up a little odd, as I see it. With people I know, I am extremely outgoing and almost never shut up. However, for most of my childhood I was so incredibly shy that I preferred dark colored clothing on the grounds that it would make me less noticeable. I pulled a little vigilante Cognitive Behavioral Training on myself, and by now I only feel shy when meeting a large group of new people--but even then I can generally fake comfort until it actually becomes real.

So that's what I did when I arrived in California. Surprisingly, the comfort became real within a few days, thanks to a truly incredible group of people who are accepting of themselves and of others. And that's when the realization settled in: I was made for this kind of situation.

In short, I'm a social addict, and someone let me into the catnip.

At any time of day, if I want to socialize, I wander around until I find someone who isn't working. At the same time, if you're visibly being productive, no one bothers you, so I never feel interfered with. I have dinner every day with at least 10 people. Whenever I want to leave the house, I usually have at least a few options for people to tag along with. Meanwhile, I'm getting to know people socially while also developing an understanding of and respect for them as professionals. The lack of boundary on that front means that compliments flow like water around here, and disputes are dealt with with the frankness you'd use in a social setting. Meanwhile, I laugh more often every day than I ever have.

Today was the first time I've spent time alone since January 31st. I was tired and run down after a bit of an overdone weekend, so I worked in bed (in my pajamas). It was a nice break, but I'll be back in the common areas tomorrow. Yes, I'm honeymooning right now. My blood content of warm fuzzies is probably off the charts. In any case, though, my new living situation has caused me to rethink my perspectives on communities. In Chile, everyone lives with their (often extended) family, and the feeling was extremely claustrophobic to me. Meanwhile, the typical studio-for-one goal that many young North Americans share felt cold and isolating, but roommates seemed like bad news. So here's a middle ground: a group of people who came together over shared ideals and lifestyle goals, living together family style.

So I just may be a way bigger hippy than I thought, because moving into a semi-commune has been the best living situation I've gotten into yet. Now if I could just make friends I don't live with...