Thursday, January 31, 2013

Return to #Dad2Summit - Got Words But I’m Not Loquacious

I’m winging my way cross country to Houston today to attend the second-coming of the Dad 2.0 Summit. (Needs a proper sequel name. Dad 2.0: Part Deux-Doo? Dad 2.0: The Other Parental Unit Strikes Back? Dad 2.0: Eclectic BoogerWiper-aloo?)

I'm Speaking At The Dad 2.0 SummitWhen I get there, winging it will be the last thing I’ll be doing. I’m speaking.

Reading, really. Aloud. One of my blog posts.

I’m not going to pull one of those “oooh, I’m so shy and socially awkward that I need Xanax to walk out to the mailbox” routines on you in an attempt to fill the comment section with all sorts of “you’re so brave – hugs!” I have plenty of personal hang-ups (just ask My Love) and the occasional panic attack but general social anxiety and agoraphobia are not among my many issues despite the fact I spend the majority of my time home alone. (New sequel name -- Dad 2.0: Lost in the Houston Four Seasons.)

In fact, when I found out I was going to read before 200 or so peers, I couldn’t have been more stoked.

“Finally!” I thought. “I’ll be able to complete an entire sentence without a member of my family interrupting me.”

Yet, I do have one fear. The fear of not being able to talk.

Except for 10 years ago when my legs completely went out from under me while testifying at a zoning board hearing, I’ve been up before crowds before without real issue. Heck, I’ve “played” percussion with a rock band in a real New York City concert before. Twice!

However, since I spend so little time speaking at all these days beyond telling Li’l Diva to turn the volume down on her latest boy band heartthrob or ordering our dog to drop whatever he has in his mouth (two weeks ago it was the back half of a dead squirrel), I tend to blow out my voice quickly in social situations.

Couple hours of yapping in a loud room, a few belts under my reversible belt (black AND brown!) … that’s when I feel a hockey puck well up in my throat and I start to strain for more volume and clarity. Shortly thereafter I’m sounding like Kathleen Turner after she’d sucked down a fifth of rot gut and couple packs of unfiltered Camels. And developed a back sinus infection.

Those of you who’ve tried to have a conversation with me on the last day of a BlogHer conference or last year’s Dad 2.0 Summit know I’m not yanking your larynx on this.

I’m hoping that won’t be the case this time. I’ve learned some goofy sounding vocal warm-up exercises that will make my roommate seriously regret his lodging choice, and I’ll be sucking on the lozenges all day today for tomorrow morning -- I go on stage.

Then I’ll die.

Most likely from profuse flop sweat.

(No idea why this video clip requires you to first prove you are over age 17. But it’s worth it. ‘Tis a classic.)

Hmm, that zoning board incident I had … that was also in Texas.

I am so screwed.

18 comments:

  1. 1. Best. Movie. Ever.

    2. And Yes, I'm made of corn and wheat (like all the best whiskey).

    3. You'll do fine.

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    Replies
    1. You so get me, fellow worshiper at the Temple of Doughty.

      Delete
  2. Good luck! Maybe you need to take a maraca or rhythm egg with you on stage.

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    1. How could I have forgotten my rhythm egg?! I need to put you in my road crew.

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  3. Have fun, and knock em dead! Well, not really dead. Just a saying.

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    1. It was more a question of me passing out. Or puking on someone. Anyway, thanks.

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  4. "“Finally!” I thought. “I’ll be able to complete an entire sentence without a member of my family interrupting me."

    That literally made me laugh out loud.

    Also, you're going to do an amazing job, because you ARE amazing.

    And here's hoping you do NOT end up with a Hockey Puck in your larynx, or covered in flop sweat! Good luck!

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    Replies
    1. Oh, stop it, you. And take your meds. ;-)

      Actually that first bit is completely true. The Mother of All Uncoolness and My Love are notorious for cutting me off in mid-sentence.

      Delete
  5. Good luck... I'm sending you good mojo. Should reach you in plenty of time provided we don't have a blizzard...

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  6. The way I see it you have two options: Not talking until after your reading, or doing the diva thing and having a proxy read it for you.

    Have fun and good luck!

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    Replies
    1. Heck, I should have just demanded my own VH1 special.

      Thanks for the well wishes.

      Delete
  7. I like some of your potential names - Deux-Doo. Okay it's childish but this sort of like comes from a dad of two young boys (6&8) who think those types of words are hilarious no matter how they are used.
    Congrats on being asked to speak. I hope you kick butt.

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    Replies
    1. As long as I don't have to diaper butt. Done more than my fair share back in the day. Thanks, Larry.

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  8. Having heard the speech first and read this second, I wouldn't have known you were worried--you sounded great. And the story was funny and honest -- preps me for when my twin girls are pre-teens!
    Would you be interested in submitting to my website--it's a new idea: an "open blog" where anyone can submit their best and worst parenting moments. I'd live it if you would submit an essay.

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    Replies
    1. Thanks, V. Your link was bad but I figured it out. I'll check it out.

      Delete

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