Recently, I was at the Calvin Festival of Faith and Writing (which is actually what I did this year instead of #unco12.) Someone tweeted, "Conferences are not for introverts, I need a nap!!"
As much as I understood that person, I thought, does that mean we introverts can't go to conferences or unconferences? NO! It just means you have to plan ahead.
As a veteran conference goer, with two #uncos under my belt (#unco10 and #unco11), I have made a lot of mistakes and a lot of good moves. I've learned a lot more from my failures (ain't that the way?) and figured in writing this post, I could help somebody who has never been to #unco. Because dude, it is overwhelming. I am not going to lie.
Some hints: if you knit, or do any sort of craft, BRING IT ALONG. Because it will be a way for you to be internally focused even if you are sitting in a group. If you have a laptop, an iPad, an iPod touch, an e-reader, bring it along. Because all the cool kids are. This is a very highly technologically centered group. If you don't know how to use any of these, but you have one, bring it along, someone will help you. If you are technologically lost, bring SOMETHING to do with your hands, even if it is just a pack of cards to play solitaire. (But beware, no one will know what a pack of cards is, so you might attract more attention than you desire.)
I'm a librarian. When I go to a conference, there are hundreds, thousands of people, sometimes tens of thousands, and for an introvert, that is actually easier than 50 people. Because there's no way everyone is staying at the same place, eating at the same time, eating at long tables. And you get some alone time walking between hotels to different meetings. #Unco? Is 50-60 people, some of whom know each other from other years, from Twitter, from Facebook. It's overwhelming. It's a bit like the first day of high school.
Last year, it rained. Which pretty much dashed any chances of this introvert getting out and taking a walk. (I think I didn't pack either an umbrella or good rain shoes.)
I'm writing this a year later, so forgive me if you disagree with my memory. But it seemed as if all the social activities were geared to night owls. When I arrived the first day, uber late, because of all my plane delays, the last thing I wanted to do was worship with a bunch of people I'd never met.
Do not plan to go to everything. This will be your biggest temptation and downfall. Go to something, then take some time alone, take a nap, take a walk. The extroverts will be up late playing role playing games, they will be going to every session--do not fall into their habits, you will eventually crash. This is YOUR unconference. Which means you get to choose. You are not getting college credit for this. You are not going to have to pass an exam at the end. No, at the end you are going to have to go home. So you want to not be strung out when you leave.
Take your vitamins, wash your hands. At least 15 people left #unco11 with a cold. It was a nasty nasty cold.
Wear your thick skin. It's NOT personal, it's not PERSONAL, IT'S not personal.
Sign up for the spiritual direction sessions. It will be a chance to be one on one with a person who will really listen. I didn't do this either time, but both times, wish that I had. Sign up early, those sessions will fill up.
I'm sure I left a lot out. I am grateful for my two years at #unco, I met wonderful people that I have continued to connect with on Twitter and in real life. Please leave suggestions that have worked for you in the comment box.
Most of all, take your good time in your pocket. After reading all this, remember, you want to go to this. You have paid good money and taken time out of your life. Have fun.
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Monday, August 1, 2011
Chicken soup with riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiice... (with corrections)
My life has become quite small these days. I go where there is air conditioning. Which means the back room (technically bedroom, but it's only been that for 3 of the 17 years I've lived here, so it's still the back room to me) of my garret. I have a/c in the front room, but it seems silly to run it if I'm spending all my time in the back room. And everything I need is here: books, laptop, DVDs, VHS, TV... this summer has been spent on my open futon (a full size bed) watching Ugly Betty, falling asleep to Saving Grace, and tweeting tweets. Occasionally I venture out, with my friend Lilly, on Sundays.
I long for fall, when it is cool enough to be comfortable in all of my apartment, when my TV shows come back on the air (Good Wife, Castle, How I met your mother, Bones.) When I have the energy to do more than go to work or sit on my bed.
Which is where you find me now, writing this post, on a Monday morning. (My weekend is Sunday/Monday.)
Holly got me thinking about coping mechanisms with her post on Eating a Tangerine yesterday. And how my coping mechanisms are two fold. Call my mom or Susan, who lives in Michigan. If they aren't home, try some other people, and then watch some Ugly Betty. Why Ugly Betty? Because it is what I watched last summer when I had Shingles. (Oh, a story for another day.) So when it started to get hot, I ordered seasons 1 & 2 from the library. I own seasons 3 &4.
So what's the deal with the title, Suzi? Oh yes...it's about how Twitter opens my life even when I have the door locked and secure.
The saving grace of songs. Twitter, for me, is about the sharing of ideas, moments, and always, cupcakes.
And with one particular tweeter, songs from Really Rosie, written by Maurice Sendak and sung by Carole King. Deb knew the songs because her father was a pilot* and she often rode on his flights, flights that had a radio station devoted to Really Rosie songs. I knew them because my Granny sent me records. (You know, those round vinyl things?) Half of my current record collection is of Menudo records I bought with my own money when I was a girl living in Honduras,* and the other half is of records my grandmother sent to me when I was a girl living in Germany and Honduras. L'il Abner, Hello Dolly!, Annie, and yes, Really Rosie.
There's a TV show that the songs were from, but I have never seen that show. I just know and love the songs. Deb and I got to know each other through another tweeter** (I can't remember who!) who was complaining about Upstate New York types, and Deb said, well, technically Upstate doesn't start until you cross the Tappan Zee Bridge, at which I replied, "I can tap across the Tappan Zee..." and Deb knew the rest of the lyric!!
So this morning, Deb was feeling like she had two hard days coming up, so of course (you knew it was coming) I sent her some cupcakes and (as per our friendship) a bowl of chicken soup with rice. To which she replied, I may dump the chicken soup on someone's head...and I replied, oh yes. Me too.
(Aren't those the best two words in the English language? Me too.)
If only that was a way to solve problems. Just show up with a bowl of hot chicken soup and dump it on someone's head. The conversation I had on the phone Saturday with a person who does not understand the concept of conversation? Well, I guess dumping chicken soup on the phone would have other consequences, but it reminds me of what Dicey's Gram did with the phone when she got the news that her son Bullet had been killed in Vietnam. She threw the phone through the windows at the phone company.***
Yesterday, when I was feeling glum and shaky and Deb sent me cupcakes and alligators all around. Which gave me something to hum. It's a great song.
A, Alligators all around, B, Bursting Balloons.
and then I can't remember the lyrics until
Q, quite quarrelsome. U, usually upside down,
V, very vain. W, wearing wigs, X, xing xes Y, yackety yacking Z, zippity zound
(and then it repeats to alligators all around.) In researching the lyrics, I found this dear YouTube.)
_________________
*correction: her dad was a gate agent, but employees flew free, and therefore often.
*My dad worked for the State Dept., so I lived overseas for a good part of my childhood. Brazil until I was 2, Germany for 1st & 2nd grade, Honduras for 3rd-6th.
**Laura Mac. Gosh I know the best people on Twitter.
***The Tillerman cycle, by Cynthia Voigt. The throwing of the phone happened at the end of The Runner, I'm pretty sure, and was recounted in Dicey's Song, as to why Gram was "crazy as a fox."
I long for fall, when it is cool enough to be comfortable in all of my apartment, when my TV shows come back on the air (Good Wife, Castle, How I met your mother, Bones.) When I have the energy to do more than go to work or sit on my bed.
Which is where you find me now, writing this post, on a Monday morning. (My weekend is Sunday/Monday.)
Holly got me thinking about coping mechanisms with her post on Eating a Tangerine yesterday. And how my coping mechanisms are two fold. Call my mom or Susan, who lives in Michigan. If they aren't home, try some other people, and then watch some Ugly Betty. Why Ugly Betty? Because it is what I watched last summer when I had Shingles. (Oh, a story for another day.) So when it started to get hot, I ordered seasons 1 & 2 from the library. I own seasons 3 &4.
So what's the deal with the title, Suzi? Oh yes...it's about how Twitter opens my life even when I have the door locked and secure.
The saving grace of songs. Twitter, for me, is about the sharing of ideas, moments, and always, cupcakes.
And with one particular tweeter, songs from Really Rosie, written by Maurice Sendak and sung by Carole King. Deb knew the songs because her father was a pilot* and she often rode on his flights, flights that had a radio station devoted to Really Rosie songs. I knew them because my Granny sent me records. (You know, those round vinyl things?) Half of my current record collection is of Menudo records I bought with my own money when I was a girl living in Honduras,* and the other half is of records my grandmother sent to me when I was a girl living in Germany and Honduras. L'il Abner, Hello Dolly!, Annie, and yes, Really Rosie.
There's a TV show that the songs were from, but I have never seen that show. I just know and love the songs. Deb and I got to know each other through another tweeter** (I can't remember who!) who was complaining about Upstate New York types, and Deb said, well, technically Upstate doesn't start until you cross the Tappan Zee Bridge, at which I replied, "I can tap across the Tappan Zee..." and Deb knew the rest of the lyric!!
So this morning, Deb was feeling like she had two hard days coming up, so of course (you knew it was coming) I sent her some cupcakes and (as per our friendship) a bowl of chicken soup with rice. To which she replied, I may dump the chicken soup on someone's head...and I replied, oh yes. Me too.
(Aren't those the best two words in the English language? Me too.)
If only that was a way to solve problems. Just show up with a bowl of hot chicken soup and dump it on someone's head. The conversation I had on the phone Saturday with a person who does not understand the concept of conversation? Well, I guess dumping chicken soup on the phone would have other consequences, but it reminds me of what Dicey's Gram did with the phone when she got the news that her son Bullet had been killed in Vietnam. She threw the phone through the windows at the phone company.***
Yesterday, when I was feeling glum and shaky and Deb sent me cupcakes and alligators all around. Which gave me something to hum. It's a great song.
A, Alligators all around, B, Bursting Balloons.
and then I can't remember the lyrics until
Q, quite quarrelsome. U, usually upside down,
V, very vain. W, wearing wigs, X, xing xes Y, yackety yacking Z, zippity zound
(and then it repeats to alligators all around.) In researching the lyrics, I found this dear YouTube.)
_________________
*correction: her dad was a gate agent, but employees flew free, and therefore often.
*My dad worked for the State Dept., so I lived overseas for a good part of my childhood. Brazil until I was 2, Germany for 1st & 2nd grade, Honduras for 3rd-6th.
**Laura Mac. Gosh I know the best people on Twitter.
***The Tillerman cycle, by Cynthia Voigt. The throwing of the phone happened at the end of The Runner, I'm pretty sure, and was recounted in Dicey's Song, as to why Gram was "crazy as a fox."
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