And We’re Back…

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Midnight rambling…or searching for underwear at 1 am when your bags have gone missing

Nothing like a professional conference to throw oneself back into the working world. Good news: we showed the film! Bad news: conferences are boring. Ok, conferences in and of themselves aren’t necessarily boring. But I did find this conference to be particularly lacking. In fairness though the talk I really wanted to see I couldn’t, because Chicago managed to send our luggage somewhere else. I don’t know what trip our bags took and I hope they had a good view and some drinks wherever they landed, but it meant we had to rescue our bags instead of attend the conference when the bags did decide to arrive.

More conference shenanigans also meant small turnout to our film. But on the bright side those who did attend liked it a great deal and are interested in bringing it to their schools. That’s our big hope. Then on the serendipity front, we talked to a potential distributor who is interested and may very well take the film on. Hooray! Much celebrating all the way around. It is not to say that taking care of our film hasn’t been near and dear to me, but I am also more than ready to let someone else run with it. I have learned the very hard way that self directing,producing, and distributing is a seriously full time job, one that very nearly pulled all the hair out of my head. (By the way, for any film hopefuls out there – you better love what you’re doing because the chances of getting paid are pretty slim unless you manage to sneak in a few explosions or big name celebrities. Am I bitter? Naw…chafing a bit, probably.)

So conference talks can be less than stimulating, but a positive of conferences is that they can be places to catch up with people you’ve not seen in a long time. This was one such conference, and it included seeing some people who were in the film who have now gone on to fabulous things like doctoral programs and such. But I hasten to add, it is very odd for me to meet someone and be greeted with, “Oh, I’ve heard all about you! How’s it going with such and such…” And I’m left thinking, what was your name? Why do you know anything about me? It isn’t necessarily that I find such encounters offensive; actually they are somewhat flattering in that you’ve-actually-heard-of-me kind of way, but also a bit disconcerting in that what-prompted-all-of-you-to-sit-around-and-talk-about-me kind of way.

I am not used to being noticed, and especially not used to being noticed also being a good thing. I suspect I’ll never get used to it. I suspect though that actually is a good thing, to not be used to it. I’m not interested in being that self-conscious. Or aware. Blissfully unaware I say. Blissfully unaware and unconscious, even better.

My head cold is making me ramble. Time for tea with honey and a hot bath. And some mindless Netflix binging watching. And chocolate. Oh, did I mention how much I miss having extensive, soul-searching, process-oriented existential breakthrough conversations with people who also love having such conversations? My goodness we would’ve all been great patrons of small, dark, eastern-european pre-revolution bars stocked with only a small crate of bourbon to serve us pathetic angst-ridden neo-poets. Such people I met up with at the conference, and was reminded of the small gap left in my life after they left…as I relayed to them, it is not possible to fill such a hole with replacements. You just live hoping for the next encounter. So here’s to another vow to make such encounters more frequent than less. (And to finding many excuses to take the piss out of each other as often as possible.)