We played pub trivia tonight - tossing around answers to four rounds of questions in exchange for small shots at pride and a few beers. Good questions from a pun-favoring fellow, Adit. A perfect combination of humor and hubris.

Its easier to catch, as we get tired, our levels of frustration and ego - easier to catch in others. As we tire, we fail to hide our discomfort or annoyance, fail to hide (or be polite about) small disagreements. We stand our ground for the simple sake of doing so, for the credit (from no one in particular) of being right. We strive to bring others to our viewpoint much more so that we willingly work to understand theirs’.

I’m projecting here quite a bit, as the above I most certainly see in myself (we see that in others that we fear in our self). Still, the tendencies exist. The question is, as winter progresses, will we learn to observe ourselves, to catch our pride and frustration in the act? Will we miss the immediate action, only to notice it later? Or will we be oblivious entirely, creatures of our base natures, acting out without first formulating our responses?

The psychology of the unfolding months will be hard-pressed not to intrigue me.

Mary Roach puts it very well in the introduction to her book, Spook:

The deeper you investigate a topic like this, the harder it becomes to stand on unshifting ground. In my experience, the most staunchly held views are based on ignorance or accepted dogma, not carefully considered accumulations of facts. The more you expose the intricacies and realities of the situation, the less clear-cut things become.

_______________

On other notes, the windows are beginning to be covered to prevent stray light from our station to leak out and interfere with experiments sensitive to the visual spectrum. From now on, our views of the sky will be from the outdoors, our faces and minds exposed to the heavens and -90F temps. The wind is kicking at near thirty knots, and the front “sail” of the station (a giant piece of material bearing the US Antarctic Program logo) rattles away, sounding like the heavy rain of a thunderstorm.

Repairs were also performed in the New Power Plant (NPP) yesterday, requiring power to be conserved throughout station to balance the generator loads appropriately. Most of us worked in the dark, the soft glow of our monitors the only lights. I spent some time visiting with a couple of good folk over in the B2 science lab, laying on the floor in the dark, listening to harmonica, laughing, and singing whatever pop songs rolled into our heads.

There’s something great to be said about the camaraderie that beckons in the absence of power, the memories we pile up of family and friends circled around candles during blizzards or august thunder storms. That gathering calls to mind the feeling of friends around a fire, philosophical discussion and banter around a woodstove, or a group huddle on a cold Michigan road in October, watching the Northern Lights flare up in the sky at the beginning of an epic backpacking trip.

Losing something so familiar, and finding that we do just fine without it, seems to bring up a smile, a playful edge, and more risk than usual. When the power goes out, I have an overwhelming urge to have a snow day - skip work, responsibility, and concentrate fully on something we oft forget about - play.

Ethan (from the link in the upper left) and Calee write about the dark a touch too.