Absinthe Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

Color me inebriated.  The drinks were fantastic, but having dinner with JulieAnn and Kent was divine.  (I’d do linky links, but right now is not a time for fancy formatting or hand-eye coordination, other than typing.)  I could worry about my drinking ability, since I had at least two drinks more than they did.  I’m slightly worried that I’m still awake and haven’t crashed – because, by gawd, I should be sleeping off this buzz.

The best best best part of the evening was an offhand comment that cemented a solution to a particularly challenging plot element I’ve been working on for 1.5 years.  In this instance, I’m grateful for the presence of alcohol and good friends for their inspiration.

Wish me luck at the Big Sur writing conference, through Sunday.

Here Am I on Writing

The last few months I’ve been working through my own “stuff” about writing.  I gave myself ample space (and very little blogging participation) to work it all out:  silence, histrionics, bellyaching, inspiration, desolation, and a pervading sense of isolation.  I let myself feel overwhelmed.  I also let myself get distracted (insert addiction or compulsion of the month, here).  I didn’t reach out to my friends who understand what writing means to me.

I’ve learned more about my self-imposed angst and inaction this time than in my entire last thirty years of non-writing.  I’ve learned that I will talk about my writing generally and not specifically.  I do not like talking about writing I haven’t written yet.  It’s letting the dream loose before it’s been realized.  I’ve learned that there are friends I can talk to about writing angst and that there are friends who I will avoid because they don’t “get it.”  I’m not saying they’re bad friends – I’m saying it comes down to different languages at a time when I crave communication and understanding.  Allow me a crude (but oh so favorite) metaphor, but it’s like putting a condom on a limp dick – a waste of time.

What do I need as a writer?  It’s not about time or resources or friends or ability.  What I need is the very very very simple idea that the only thing stopping me is myself.  Self:  get thee off thy ass.

Writing is more than fingers to the keyboard or pen to notebook, and it’s more than going back and editing for grammar, spelling and flow.  The other part of writing is making sure your words find an audience, and that can’t happen if they stay in my one brain cell every time I look at a computer and don’t type the keys that make them appear.

This week I’m submitting samples of my work to a writing conference.  I want to include a synopsis of the over-arcing story.  Based on acceptance, my work will be edited and critiqued.  That’s a lot of IFs to line up nicely.  It starts with submission (please don’t read any BDSM innuendo into that line) and putting my writing out there for critique.  Let it begin.

Bella Luna

The conference ended at noon and I walked around the gas lamp district. I know a Marlene Dietrich moment of vanting to be alone when it hits me. Peopled out, I say, and I listen to all the voices when I talk to myself. (Self, I vant to be alone.)

The idea of pomegranate chicken for lunch was in my head, but none of the Mediterranean places I passed had it on their lunch menu. I followed my feet around the gas lamp and found myself in front of an Italian place, Bella Luna, checking out the menu. I was checking out the host, too, because he walked funny. I thought he walked like a guy wearing heels, but his shoes were black, low-heeled loafers. (Stop, I’m NOT inferring or implying his being “light in his loafers” even though he was – hello, family greeting family – not an unusual happenstance.) Thoughts of pomegranate chicken vanished in the wake of the ricotta spinach ravioli in a vodka cream sauce… and with images of a man with a curious stride. The lunch hour had long gone by the time I’d found this place and was seated. A few tables had customers, but very soon I had the whole place to myself.

Andreas Bocelli seems standard at most Italian restaurants. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a personal weakness of mine, regardless of his international air wave saturation. The man could make angels weep, and here I was with a place to myself enjoying his music and duets with other artists and I didn’t worry about the tears at the corners of my eyes (in no way am I inferring a similarity with angels, btw).

I splurged on a glass of wine before and after dinner (that’s two nicely filled glasses, total). The mystery of the man with the loafers resolved itself because I heard him say his shoes were too big. I get that, I mean, the moment I put on shoes that were too big I would automatically continue to wear them. The server, Paul, told me his life story between being seated and receiving the tab. I don’t know the meaning, if there is one, other than a lunch I could have done a face plant into, wine so buttery and smooth I wanted to lick inside the empty glass, and random company of people and stories that helped me inform my own.

Elevator

We arrived at the elevator doors at the same time.  I knew she worked for the hotel because of her uniform, name tag, and the stack of papers under one arm.  I’m observant and skilled at the obvious. 

Her name was Maria.  I pressed the call button and we waited in silence for the next elevator.  The bell chimed, the door opened, and I stepped back to let her proceed, but she stepped farther back into the foyer, shaking her head with a self-effacing smile.  I gestured at the doors and said, “Please.”  She bobbed her head and looked at the floor and entered the elevator.  I came in behind and pushed the button for my floor, the twelth. 

“Which floor?” I asked her.  She looked at the panel and then the floor.  “Same, sir.”  I stepped back against the wall as the doors closed.  I wondered for a moment if I looked or felt threatening to her.  How did I look to her?  She looked at the floor and I could see my reflection in the opposite wall.  I’d been hearing “sir” more often the last few years, and more regularly the last several months, and part of me wondered when THAT happened.  Was it like puberty and a sudden onset of different hormones?  Was I physically the same?  What inside me turned me into my idea of my own father?

As the elevator continued climbing I made one more attempt to engage her.  “This hotel is beautiful.”  She raised her head and met my eyes.  Almost.  I continued, “Thank you, I’d love to come back and stay here.”  Her entire face changed, the light in her started with a white smile and ended with shining eyes.  I smiled in return and entered the foyer.  As I walked down the hall to my room, I muttered “sir” under my breath, not sure how the word fit into the idea of myself.

How do you handle “sir” or “ma’am”?  Do we spend our lives fooling ourselves or imaging who we think we are?  Do you hate these kinds of existential and introspective questions?  Discuss.

Conference Thoughts

Day two at the conference in San Diego. 

Yesterday was a travel day from Oakland to San Diego.  The few times a year when I go to conferences, I don’t mind the time spent at airports.  I intentionally don’t pack a book or magazine so that I can browse what’s available at the airport.  This trip, I came across “The Alchemist” by Paulo Coelho, a Brazilian novelist.  I read the prologue in the bookstore and had to buy the book.  I re-read the passages on the plane, letting the words speak their rhythm and magic.  I didn’t care if the guy next to me could see the tears at the corners of my eyes.  I turned up the volume on my mp3 player and re-read the words again.  Every once in a while I would look out the windows at the clouds and I had the distinct impression that I was exactly where I was supposed to be in life.

***

The reception last night was at the hotel for the conference.  The entire company meets every two years to go over business policies and procedures, best practices, and networking.  Many of the folks are road warriors, doing on the road consulting across the country.  I had hoped to meet other folks with my software/vendor background, but quickly discovered that I’m it, I’m the resource.  I’ve been in this place before in my life, too.  The things I get to learn (and relearn) are supervisory skills, better project management, more diplomacy, more diplomacy, and more diplomacy.  Grace is in there somewhere.  And compassion.  And patience. 

***

Meeting people has been fantastic.  I love the company.  Everyone seems genuine and authentic.  What I came up against tonight was the sense of being alone in a sea of people.  Don’t get me wrong – I felt welcomed by everyone, but I wanted to be home.  I missed Scott.  I left dinner early and came back to the hotel.  The saving grace to the evening was listening to music, talking to Scott on the phone, chatting briefly with Eddie on Yahoo, and making myself write this post.

One Day Left to the Conference

We got in on Saturday evening and we had dinner at a great Mexican restaurant with killer margaritas. Since then, I’ve left the hotel once, which was last night for dinner with some former co-workers. Sunday: finalize presentation with my co-presenter, finalize narrative for Tuesday’s two-hour session, then opening social and drinking almost pure vodka most of the night.

Monday morning, I get up and don’t spring back from a night of drinking as well as I would have 10 years ago. In fact, I had the shakes until about 11:00am, but no nausea, thank you very much. Monday night (last night) – Italian dinner with one glass of wine and sleeping by midnight.

Tuesday, today: up at 6:15 for my 7:00 “coffee talk” panel session. Surprise! I was wide awake and coherent, and I even looked slightly cute with a minor faux-hawk, black silk shirt, black shoes, and jeans. 8:00am was the start of the two-hour session, which turned out well. Noon – the service awards and “business” lunch and I picked up another nat’l award – go me! Afternoon sessions and networking, and I got 9 prospects for the 5 open positions on a team I’ll be chairing next year. The last hour I took a nap and now I’m debating a big juicy cheeseburger from the hotel pub before hitting the 7:00pm meeting to deconstruct and go over this year’s conference results. 8:00pm – party party party until the music stops at midnight tonight. I have to be reasonable with the alcohol intake, because I have another god.damn.fucking.early “coffee talk” tomorrow morning at 7:00am.

Oh. Seasons. I have most of XIV, but I want feedback on the draft before I post. Sorry. I’m having writing anxiety and I need some strokes.

Speaking of strokes. I am remembering, vividly, why I hated travel and hotel rooms. My GAWD, there’s nothing remotely interesting on the adult television channels, and I’ll be double-damned before I watch Jenna Jameson do her thang. Double standards: why is it okay to show threesome movies with two women and a man, but they can’t show two men and a women? Oh that’s right – I’m staying at the Mormon-owned gay-hating Marriott. Fuckers.

Back on Friday

A quick note to say I’ll be back on Friday. There is a fast and furious regional conference in Los Angeles and I head out first thing tomorrow morning for the 7:00am flight. My boss’ flight this morning was delayed several hours due to fog in Burbank, so wish me luck – I really hate waiting in airports. It’s downright implausible that I’ll be online tomorrow evening, because the folks at this specific regional tend to be heavy on the drinking and socializing and I’m expected to participate (no one has to twist my arm on that one – I can already taste the tequila).

See all ya’ll late Thursday when I get back, which really Really REALLY sucks because I’m going to miss dinner with AZ Awakening in SF. Faaaaaawk.

Assignment for all ya’ll until Friday: if you’ve done a presentation/speech/public speaking before, share your most embarrassing moment. Pretty please. Sorry, but I have yet to hear anyone beat my Bells Palsy story, which I may have to share publicly sometime.

Smooches.

Countdown to Conference

Tomorrow morning, I head out for an annual conference – in DC. Most years, I never leave the hotel because there’s a) so much going on b) they have an excellent gym c) they have excellent food options d) they have a Starbucks e) it’s cold as hell in DC this time of year and f) I’m working off one hangover before the next.

This year I have to be on my better behavior. I got a call a month or so ago from a conference board member – I’m slated to get one of their annual awards. I wasn’t excited until my boss (who’s this year’s conference president) told me (off the record) that I had the most points out of all the nominees. Yeah, I was shocked. Usually, I’m the one who’s in trouble or causing trouble. Maybe the nominees were all fuckwits, which gave me a shoe-in?

This year, I’m doing not one, not two, not three, but four presentations, co-facilitating a two-hour round table discussion, doing a tour with first-timers, manning two shifts of an information table, and trying to sneak in quality time with old friends and co-workers at the bar.

I’ll try and post from the conference. I fly home on Wednesday evening. During the flight to and from DC, I plan on finishing part IX. As I mentioned to Sacred Sister, I’m a little nerve-wracked about a sex scene.

Quick Update

Construction on the remodel for our place should start in October, but some minor things like moving the water line and the sprinklers is will happen first. We’re extending the living room six feet, blowing out a wall and hallway in the living room, and adding a bedroom to the left side of the house. We anticipate two months of construction, dust, and chaos.

I leave tomorrow for San Diego. I may or may not be posting, depending on internet access and the conference itself. I’ve not been to this before, but I’m co-presenting with a vendor. In November, I’m slated for four presentations. This coming March, I’m set for at least three and possibly four. My self-concept needs an overhaul – so much for my beliefs about shy and quiet. I’ve noticed that I don’t feel any fear in pubic speaking, maybe a slight nervousness, but it goes away once I get into the topic. Hard to believe I failed Speech class in high school for refusing to do any speeches, eh?

Be well, good peoples.

Taking a breather (not a breathalizer)

There were over 250+ registered attendees to the users group yesterday. It will continue today, but I expect about a fourth may leave early – it’s the normal attrition. I’m going in later – my first session is at 11:00.

Yesterday was busy and stressful, but ultimately rewarding. It’s great to re-connect with the various folks I have trained or consulted with in the past. My only “complaint” was my third session which was in a horrible time slot – 2:00pm. It’s merciless. People are naturally sleepy from digesting lunch, plus the heat didn’t help. I asked people to stand and move around to help them keep focused, which works wonders. The day was rewarding in that I had three off-the-cuff job offers, none of which I’d seriously look at because of location or pay issues, but it was gratifying just the same. I did snag TWO consulting gigs, though. I’m doing a happy dance right now. Close your eyes – whatever you imagine is probably how it looks.

Last night after the conference, a lot of folks converged on the local El Toritos and commandeered the bar area: the margaritas were flowing. My boss’ boss told me the story of how she had dinner with our president and a vendor’s marketing VP on Tuesday night. My reputation will forever precede me – she had told them of the last two years of national users groups and how I would get wild and crazy on the dance floor. She also let them know the vast amounts of alcohol that I consumed, and how I was still drunk from the night before when I got to the DC airport at 6:00am – I slept the whole way back to Oakland (6 hours). I’m slightly disappointed with last night’s crowd, since we were all out of there by 10:00pm. What happened to the good ole days when we used to get kicked out of the hotel or restaurant bars?

Today – just two sessions, and I don’t present, I just facilitate the roundtables. I have my coffee, I’ve had breakfast, I’ve updated this blog – all is well with the world.