Let’s try this again. I started a blog post with the title “My sad attempt at being social.” It was a rambling affair of self-flagellation. Then I tried again with, “I didn’t chicken out too badly.” Too badly? Really Pia? Even if we were to overlook that lame-ass title, it was still nothing but babbling, and not the pleasing babbling of a brook in the woods on a lovely autumn walk.
Why? Oh well I don’t really know. I’d like to blame it on my failed attempt to play with Skype last night, but as I think back on it, it was mostly working fine. It was me that couldn’t use it properly. Talk? You want me to talk to people? [insert sardonic laughter here]
In retrospect, I did better than I expected. Here I sat, downloading and using a new social program with no time to figure it out first. I get IM, so that part of the Skype client was fine, but put me on a conference call with a computer who’s mic is in the keyboard and I’m bewildered that any time I type the whole group laughs because I won’t talk but they can hear me.
What helped was the great group of people who convinced me to download the infernal thing. This rare attempt at being social started when I finally made time to pop in on The Funky Werepig blogcast. Along with the program broadcast every Sunday night, horror writers and lovers congregate in an online chat room to shoot the shit. Some I knew already from Twitter and some were new to me. All were welcoming. The Skype thing was a way to get together and chat after the show. Or, in my case, a reminder that I need to learn a new tool by playing around with it alone before diving into a conference call.
Call me technologically inept. Call me hopelessly shy. Call me a good fucking girl for trying. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll be back there next Sunday. If not I hope not to forget the week after that. I like the TFW and the peeps in the chatroom, plus Brian Keene will be visiting at the end of the month. Two-for-two. Plus I have no excuse not to figure this Skype shit out before then.
I never did remember to write up resolutions for October. Here’s one fallen in my lap. I can jump out of my seat as if it was a chipmunk the cat dragged in, or I can scoop it up and embrace it, dragging myself kicking and screaming just an inch out of introverted-me.