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?)
When 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.