crazy conference confessions

so i'm done with the conference.
i'm done with the preconferences.
i'm done with the room service.
i'm done with the fake smiles.
i'm done with the time laughter.
i'm done with the forced enthusiasm.
i'm done with the maroon shirts.
i'm done with the 9 o'clock bedtime.
(though i still fall asleep before 10.)

truth is i enjoy parts of the conference.
i enjoy a room service meal or two (especially the desserts).
i enjoy talking with authors and veterinarians.
some of the laughter was real.
and the smiles with that cute redheaded guy were very real.
(his business card is burning a hole in my workbag.)

but i'm tired. i'm glad it's over for another year.
thank you to my friends and family for supporting me.
especially my roomie, lizzy lou, and my new neighbor.

So, today, the quotes are my own.
Here are a few things I wish I could have said,
but withheld because I can be a semiprofessional at times.

To a co-worker: No. I'm tired. I'm going to go home. I know this conference is your life, but it's not mine.

To another co-worker: Your not in charge. Your title means nothing while you're working this conference. Your new to this company. You don't know how things work. Let her do her job.

To an attendee: Read the damn sign, Stupid!

To an exhibitor: I'm not actually falling for your act. I see right though your British accent, old man. Don't believe my smiles and nods.

To an advisory board member: Shit, with that beard you look like my ex, just aged 30 years. And you demeanor and crude jokes are like his too. Thanks for the reminder of why I'm not with him, but, um, would you mind shaving? You're really creeping me out.

To the same board member: Although the complement I just gave you is mostly true, I'm not telling you that I'm completely reworking the last article you wrote for us. Exactly how much smoke do you want me to blow up your ass?

To a nonexhibiting exhibitor: You know, you're really cute. I love your red hair. What state are you from? Are you married? What are you doing for dinner tonight?

To a veterinarian: Okay, were those smiles and that brush against my arm a come-on? If it was, it totally worked.

To a new co-worker: Meeting you has made me feel much better about the future of this merger. I used to think your magazine was crap. Now I think it is the manure from which a brighter future may grow.

To my editor: Listen to all of these freakin' compliments about me from our authors and board members. You need to give me a promotion. You need to give me a raise.

word of the day: callow

callow n. lacking in maturity or experience
An example would be, the callow young editor will, with time, recognize when she is under editing and over editing.

callow fumblings

okay, i'm having one of those weird in-between moments days.
i'm in transition.
okay, i'm always in transition.
but it's more marked right now.

transition is tricky because it requires tentative steps into an unknown sphere.

it's not just the conference, though i have the nervous churny feeling in my stomach everytime i think of my new responsibilities and everything that conference takes out of me every year.

i'm having one of those bigger life-questioning moments as well.
after a talk with a friend this weekend, i was reminded that the me i believe i am and the me others experience are different people.
this, is frustrating as hell, because of course, i think the former is pretty good. but i'm sometimes disgusted by the latter.

so, perhaps, lizzy lou, you should ignore me. perhaps you should ignore my previous ramblings.
i thought my philosophy seemed to work, at least for me, at least with some people, at well enough.
but maybe it's time for me to move beyond.
it's at least time for me to reevaluate.
ick.

so today i'm feeling my callowness, my immaturity.

the friend monster

Guilt. I hate it. Yet, I know I can be the queen of the guilt trip. It's disgusting really.

LizaLou, you're completely right about those people who make you feel guilty for not being there when they want you there—in that limited window of opportunity they provided. But the thing is, few of these people will be ever worth your time, worry, or effort. These are people you have to accept as they are and that your relationship with them will probably not progress any further. Given that it won't go any further, this is usually the point where I turn my focus to relationships that will.

You're not that unsociable, my event-going numbers are pretty similar to yours:
80% of bar-visiting invitations declined
80% of dance-club invitations declined
40% of regular party invitations declined
85% of college party invitations declined
but
95% of gatherings with my close friends accepted.

I am just that sociable.

These percents are right in line with me and what makes me happy. I care little if I miss the wildest party or best dance music ever. But I care a great deal if I miss the best joke my best friend has ever told or the evening spent together talking and being comfortable and happy.

We're not much different on this one. I think we'd both prefer that afternoon spent doing random errands with a close friend or spending an evening in a dear friend's living room even though you have no particular plans rather than at a large, social party filled with people who you'd have to make an effort to know, who'd probably prove at least mildly interesting but you'd probably not see again until the next big party.

Time is valuable. Time is limited. Why do you care so much if a acquaintance pouts a bit because you won't booze it up in a smoky bar with guys trying to rub up against you?

You know that I hate to tell people no. you know that I like to make people happy. I don't like for them to pout. Slowly, slowly, I'm learning this process of just flat out saying, no. It's hard. My tendency is to try to placate them. "Oh, that might be fun." "I'll see what my plans are." "Maybe I'll go." Bullshit. And then I let them down later because I back out at the end. It's rude. And I've decided that it's disrespectful. I have to respect the person and myself by being truthful and honest from the start. Damn that valuable decisiveness. I hate making decisions. (They seem to be easier when I'm telling others what I think they should do though.)

Sometimes I wish that all those other people, all those peripheral friends and acquaintances, would just go away—even the nice friendly ones—so that I wouldn't feel guilty for not spending time with them, so that I can spend all my free time with the people I feel matter most. Then I remember that if I did that, I wouldn't have put in the effort to become friends with you. I wouldn't be friends with my roommate, either. And I sigh. Stupid relationships. Stupid relationship building.

my friend

You've heard my ramblings on friendships before, so I won't repeat it here … or I'll try to tackle it from another direction at least. (Yes, LizaLou, these thoughts are in response to you.)

Few, I think, stay really close to their high-school friends. I'm truly close with only one of mine; the others I see from time to time, but that's really only because my roommate writes them. Quite simply, I don't make the effort because I feel we've drifted into our separate lives. Still, I'm glad my roommate arranges a social visit from time to time. It's just surprising, considering how reserved she is and how social I am.

But I'm not surprised that I'm not close with most of my high school and college friends. We were but social friends. Our closeness was developed from time together and activities. So once the time evaporated and the activities faded, there was little to keep us connected.

Now, I think it's because they never knew me, and I never knew them. Yes, I was the gregarious, out-spoken, sometimes mindless me that you know. But I kept a great deal hidden; I was afraid of their disapproval. They too, kept themselves hidden from me.

The friends that I have now who will be my friends in twenty year's time are the ones who accept me as I am. It's not about the time we spend together or what we do as much as we simply enjoy each other.

There's a huge difference between being social friends and being truly bonded to one another, though you might not be able to tell at the time. My measuring tools: Do I hesitate to speak my thoughts or make a move because he or she may disapprove of me? And does it seem like they hold back with me? If the answer to either of these is yes, then it's a social friendship. But most close friendships must begin as social ones. I hate that. I stink at social friendships.

Those bonded friendships are treasures. Neither of us is required to share our innermost thoughts, but we know that we can say or do anything and sill be completely loved and accepted and welcome.

word of the day: kerfuffle

kerfuffle n. disorder; commotion.
also written as curfuffle, kafuffle, gefuffle.
an example would be, this morning, there was a kerfuffle as my editor and i tried to figure out how to spell "kerfuffle."

the highway through the hills and valleys

Life, this journey, it never stops. Even if I were to plunk down and refuse to budge, the landscape around me would. When I think about resisting change, I always think of Dr. Seuss and his north- and south-going zaxs.

South-Going Zax said:
I'll stay here, not budging! I can and I will
If it makes you and me and the whole world stand still!

Of course the world didn't stand still. The world grew.
In a couple of years, the new highway came through
And they built it right over those two stubborn Zax
And left them there, standing un-budge in their tracks.

So often, I'm a zax. I get so wrapped up in my goal, so focused on the path that I've decided to take, that I just stop at the first roadblock. The roadblock is usually tiny, insignificant, but all I see is that it has broken my path. I allow a little stone in my path halt my way. I stop and the world keeps going around me. I'm lucky, and often someone coming along accidentally bumps into me, pushing me over or around the stone. But it's too late. The path has already changed.

Perhaps this is one of those ramblings where I should end with, "it's not the destination that matters, it's about the journey." But all I still see is the destination. The path is still a means to get me to that goal. But what is my goal? Don't I really just want to get there so that I can stop? So that I don't have to travel on these paths anymore. So that I can sit and be? I feel like if I just get there I can stop and the world will stop with me, and I and it can just be.

One of my former co-workers, Danny Goldenbaum finished his CD, "Hills & Valleys." So I'll end things off with excerpts from the title track:

The other day you caught me thinking and you asked me what was wrong.
I said that life must keep on moving, and it's time I moved along.
...
So then I linger on, across the meadows. I climb the hills of time.
And when the day has come and thing get better, you'll be by my side.
The other day I saw you sitting. It looked like something was on your mind.
Could it be that you were thinking about the loneliness inside?
...
You can't deny that I have waited for a better life, a better friend to make it clear what I got.
Life was hard, but I refuse to let them run me down,
if I climb the hill, a valley always comes around,
if I listen to the words of a wiser one,
just maybe I'll, just maybe I'll be—just maybe I'll—be.

august radiator heat

It's hot. Lots going on. Lots to do. My grandma's moving on the 14th. My friends are moving on the 14th. Then there is the convention and 12-hour work days in horrid maroon work shirts. But first, I must tame the mammoth stack of manuscripts that has grown on my desk and piles of paper haphazardly climb higher and higher. How much longer until the towers fall?

I have a little fan by my computer desk. It whizzes and whirrs air in my direction. My left arm is cold. the heat is outside in the august sun. the heat is inside in those piles on my desk.

This is it. This month I cannot be behind. I cannot melt under the pressure. This month it is crucial that I shine from a job well done and not from the glistening of sweat from stress and strain.

I will be so happy when august is over.

Okay, "Amelie" is my favorite movie, so a friend of mine showed me an earlier movie by the same director. It's the "City of the Lost Children," and it's dark and confusing and stunning. So today's quotes come from the Krank, Miette, One, and a clone. The tie in with my August stress/heat wave? The lessons learned, of course, including:
I am the original me. Those others are just inferior copies.
People create their own heat and can share. But I mean that in a completely platonic way.
Stupid people really shouldn't speak. They should eat more vegetables.
Don't judge others' abilities by their size. Some short people can jump really high.

Clone: C'est moi l'original! C'est moi!

Miette: What are you doing?
One: Radiator.

Krank: Quiet! You vegetable!

One: Miette too little.
Miette: Not that little.