Conference Confusion Syndrome

A conversation with my frontal lobe after two days in a conference mega-complex. Mega meaning five restaurants, acres of “covered” gardens (aka TERRARIUM), and hundreds of Sherwin-William guys.

Hello? You. Brain. What comes before Imig? A. Yes. You, A. Imig. Go get some air. Walk around the perimeter again. The outside perimeter. Walk past the palm trees, take that bridge under the covered bridge, take a right at the waterfall, nod to the unmanned boat—keep walking past the gazebo. You’ll know you’re real-outside when the temperature drops 30 degrees and all you can see is parking lot.

Breathe girl breathe. Suck it in. Remember to thank whomever sponsored the oxygen, because this shit is AUTHENTIC. 

Okay. Who are you? Ann. What is your blog? Ann’s Rants. AND? Listen To Your Mother Show, AND? Queen of Swords, Frasier 5 nights a week, Spin City, Montel Williams, Judge Judy, Relic Hunter, Maximum Exposure, Leeza, Entertainment Tonight—Did you realize that ET is a news magazine? If you look at the topics covered by 60 minutes, Dateline NBC, and 20/20 over the past year you will see that–

that–

A. Imig? You are at a blog conference in Nashville, not an ad sales conference in 5 star Purgatory. We of your long-term memory apologize for this conference confusion, spurred by passing a “American Sales Idol” conference room. You don’t need a canned spiel anymore (although that “Hello people I’m walking downstairs next to” was a surefire way to impress those last folks!)

You need no discounted Brooks Brothers suit. You need no trouser sock. In fact you can wear pajamas on the red carpet tonight and take your picture with a Raisin. You can go laugh and learn and listen to engaging, creative, hilarious women and never stop eating all day long. If you never stop laughing and eating you won’t even notice the no-air and non-retractable cage over your new habitat.

Now go draw a map to  real-outside for your friend Ellie. I just heard her tell someone that she blogs about “Art…and…jewelry” despite the fact that she blogs about addiction, creativity, and motherhood. She needs immediate oxygen swag. Deliver her to oxygen. She can take the unmanned boat.

Also, A. Imig? Rest assured, the nuns in habits congregating around the Irish Pub are real. No need to freak out. The Sherwin-Williamites might be worth your freak out, however.

And? try taking a right out of the conference area—after the carpet changes twice you’ll find yourself at your room, saving you the efficient elevator down/escalator up/walk down fake main street hike you just finally mastered without a Sherpa.

Finally, we inside your frontal lobe will try to close the widening gap between your glazed-over-nice-to-meet-you-perma-smile and your brain IF you stop with the Steve Urkel sounds.  Give it a tad more enthusiasm for a genuine laugh. Hint: you need to smile when you laugh.

Now get back out there in there.