Ever had one of those weekends where, no matter how detoxifying your Sunday afternoon, you can’t quite conjure what you did on Friday?
I have. Actually, I did.
In fact, I’d shove this entire weekend squarely into that corner. And I’d give it a time out and make it face the wall, too. Lest you begin to pass judgment on me, however, you ought to let me explain why it was completely worth it.
Um, yes, sure, a few caveats are in order. For example, my statement is not to say that I imbibed so excessively that I dutifully sacrificed a portion of my memory and stomach lining to the Patron Saint of Porcelain. Ahem. You know what I mean. And, oh, that’s also not to say that I engaged in any sort of questionable activities that would lead to an intentional loss of cerebral cache (I gave up sniffing Elmer’s in the sixth grade, anyway). Not unless you classify sipping spirits with the local nerd neighborhood as a waste of brain cells. Which I truthfully think makes a great oxymoron. Oh, wow, there I go, remembering Friday night!
But it wasn’t a mere happy hour that threw me for a loop. Give your girl here a little more credit than that. I mean, I was in a sorority, wasn’t I? Errr, so, you see, it was the third annual session of this funny little un-conference called BarCamp Houston that really pulled the proverbial rug out from under me. While I don’t feel like giving you the etymology behind the nomenclature, suffice it to say that my executive summary highly endorses this disorganized organization of a collaborative workshop. And despite the misleading moniker, there was no bar at all. Well, not there, anyway.
It was my maiden appearance at such a symposium, and I had no idea what to expect. I had heard horror stories of races for your life to the whiteboard and Nancy Kerrigan-style thwackings of the competition (substituting IBMs for billy clubs, of course). So I donned a summertime-jubilee-in-the-park frock (while doing Nancy no justice by riskily exposing my invaluable knees), and toted my pumpkin-encased laptop along with me, in the event that it was necessary to assuage any doubts that I, too, am a very worthy member of the Houston techie geek community.
In true better-late-than-never fashion, I rolled into the Houston Technology Center well past lunchtime (’cause this vegetarian don’t play Pappas, yo), just in time to catch the very essence of what makes a great BarCamp seminar – my darling friend Tracy giving a presentation on the wonders, marvels, and thrills of the Flickr-verse. Except I’m positing a guess that when she floated out of bed on Saturday morning and put her cute, boisterous self in that smashing teal blouse, she probably had no idea she’d be doing any such thing. Speaking to a group of eager admirers, that is. Because yet again, in true BarCamp manner, every attendee is encouraged to become a presenter.
While I arrived altogether too late to participate in that way, I didn’t spend the afternoon bemoaning my inability to shower and dress at a decent hour. No, no, no. In the true spirit of me being me, Little Miss Extrovert took her show beyond the motherboards. The atmosphere was delightfully – and somewhat surprisingly! – congenial, and if there were any software engineers in the house, they certainly didn’t show it (I kid, I kid!). I maximized my time chatting up so many fantastic people from such far flung places such as Denton, College Station, and Katy (Bueller?), each doing his or her own thing to make cyberspace a happier, more interesting, more useful place for civilian neophytes the world over. We web lovers truly are a great lot (if I do say so myself), and we have the personality and pizazz to show for it.
Sure, someone got all shippy on me, accusing me of “diluting his personal brand.” And yeah, what occurred later with helium balloons is nobody’s business but our own. I can’t help it that the details got a little stormy as the day unraveled into twilight. But what happens at BarCamp stays at BarCamp? Not a chance. For what happens at BarCamp takes us all a long, long, longer way.
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