--{ the group project }------
Sooner or later, if you're a good friend of mine, I will propose to you the Group Project. This Project can be in any form -- large (like creating a think tank) to medium (like putting together a band) to small (like writing a really funny essay). The project will, after a week of me over-exuberently hyping it, most likely be forgotten, because I am manic but flighty that way. But sometimes they will actually get started, at which point they will most likely fail, in a terrible screamy manner. So you should look out.
Anyway, about a month ago, I was talking about group projects to my friend Gina, who is my opposite in the same way that Dan is my close-to-mirror image.1 (That is, with respect to tastes.) It was no surprise that she spoke of group projects in disgust:
"Eww," Gina said, regarding an idea I had. "That sounds like a group project," said Gina, in disgust.
It was also no surprise that Gina hated group projects for the exact same reasons why I like them:2
"Because people so rarely have the same styles for working together, and everyone ends up fighting, and eventually they all hate each other."
See, I like group projects for exactly those reasons. Well, not exactly. I mean, it's not like I want everyone to hate each other. But I like finding out people's working styles. And I *love* finding out that I can work with someone, given the miniscule-ly low chances of such a good working relationship existing.
Okay, I'm overstating myself. "I love finding out" makes it sound like there are multiple instances in which I've experienced a successful group project. Which there aren't. For a long time, I had no successful group project experiences to point to at all. Now there's, like, one.3 When my friend Andy and I wrote a paper together.
But god, what a great experience that was! Totally worth all the failed group projects I'd gone through. Now, I'm not saying it was a great paper or anything. What I'm saying is that it was a great experience. To be able to write separate pieces and have them mesh together as one. ("We have the same writing style," I remarked. "Yeah, dry academic," Andy responded.) It's really quite fab.
And there's more to it than just the one-voice thing. There's the bubbling of ideas. The act of mutual creation. The putting together of a whole that's larger than the parts. It's like why, back when I actually practiced piano, I would always get really into playing duets with my brother (piano-piano, or piano-violin). It's like why I liked singing harmony all throughout college.
It's like a non-sexual simultaneous orgasm.4
And so, to me, it's a goal worth aspiring to. Even if it has all those harsh potentialities, like screamy angry fights and disruptions of relationships. To Gina, those risks aren't worth it. To me, they are. Especially now that I know how great it can be. But even before, I'd gotten enough glimpses of good group projects that I've always thought group projects were worth it.
041101
1. You name a movie. If I like it, Gina *hates* it. If Gina likes it, I *hate* it. Same goes for books and music. The movie Crash is the example we both often use. Fortunately, both our tastes are so specialized that chances are, with most things, we both hate them. So we are bonded, at least, in our dislikes. There are a few exceptions, however, like food, and McSweeneys.a
a. (From 041901.) Gina also has this bizarre way of reading my mind. For instance, when I went to Japan, I got her a present that I thought she'd be really into. I said, "Hey Gina! Guess what I got you from Japan!" She answered, "An ear pick!" I said, "Whoa, but wait. There's more, it's a special ear pick." She said, "Yeah, it's an ear pick with a doll on top." Today I told her I was going to see a movie with a friend from high school. Her answer: "What movie? Memento?" Bizarre, I say.
2. This, by the way, is quite different from one of us
hating something for a totally different reason for which the other person
likes that something. I think part of the reason we're such good friends
is that both of us use the same sets of reasons for things, at least,
which means we can talk about stuff, albeit mock-disparagingly so, with
each other.
I point to my friend Harry as counterexample: Harry and I like very
similar things, but for totally different reasons. As a result, it's
really weird talking about movies. The example that comes to mind
is Wild At Heart, where our post-movie chat was like two different
conversations.
3. I'm a big exaggerator! What I *really* mean, of
course, is that I haven't had any (1) big successful group projects that
were (2) tension-free. All the big ones have been tension-filled, and all
the tension-free ones (save the one I discuss above) have been not so big.
The paper with Professor Lazarus doesn't count, because I'm not sure I can
call it a group project, per se, because I spent half the time being wowed
by my proximity.
4. This would really embarrass him if he read this page, but fortunately he doesn't. I'm sure, though, that he'll find out second-hand through Wayne, though, who will probably eventually run across this page.