The image above came from http://www.wordle.net/, which lets you take a slew of words and create art out of them. I was referred to the site by successful author Michael. C. Cordell, or as I know him @SoCalVillaGuy. His book “In The Foothills” is a collection of poetry and short stories, and is available on Amazon.com now.
I quit. I don’t want to go to even one more f**king networking event.
I was complaining on Twitter this morning about “networking.” I hate networking events. Yes, I know how important they are, and this statement doesn’t mean I’m going to stop going to them. But I am not a fan. One-on-one meetings with people? I will do that every day. I love meeting people face-to-face and learning about what they do, and explaining what I do. Meeting a group of people I don’t know and trying to make conversation at said event? I’d rather vomit.
It’s not that I’m not social, I love being around people. But I feel like networking events are akin to speed dating. You get this short period of time to give a speech about who you are and what you do, and hope that the people you’re talking to remember you among the other 50 people they’re going to meet that night. There is no part of that I equate with “fun.” I feel like I’m constantly on edge, and always “on,” and I’m never relaxed, no matter how many drinks I’ve had.
The more of these f**king things I do the better I get at it, so I assume, at some point, that I won’t mind doing them. I’m still waiting for that point. I think, so far, talking about the book is easier than talking about myself as a composer, because the book is a physical thing that’s graspable, whereas music is much less “tangible” to sell someone on, particularly music that’s not part of a CD or band.
So yes, I want to quit. But I know I can’t. I’m making plans to embark on a book tour of the west coast, which right now included Bakersfield, San Francisco and Portland (get ready, Portland tweeters!), and that tour is going to be nothing but networking. Maybe I will return embracing it like a small orphan you find on your porch, in the rain, wearing a potato sack with the words “I’m Yours” written in Sharpie on the front of sack. But you’re in the middle of making dinner for your girlfriend, and your feet are getting wet, and you can’t even take care of a dog let alone a kid, like the stray dog you found but forgot to feed so it ate from the trashcan and died, and then the ASPCA came over and reprimanded you. I mean, it wasn’t even your damn dog, where do they get off telling you you’re a bad pet owner? Then you realize you’re still standing on the porch with this kid looking up at you with big, sad eyes, so you pretend you don’t see the orphan and slowly close the door and go back to the kitchen, stopping at the TV to turn up the volume in case the orphan starts crying. Where was I? Oh yeah. Quitting.
Not today, networking events. I’m not ready to give up yet.