Well, I have my handouts, complete with diagrams and pseudo-behavioral objectives. I have Benadryl in my purse, and a case of Calamine lotion in my car. (Though maybe I'll strap it onto the back of my motorcycle if I decide to ride to the meeting.) I have my secret assistant lined up along with the bribe for said assistant. So I'm as ready as I'm going to be. I'm really hoping that since it's Labor Day weekend, there won't be many attending the meeting. Plus I didn't see it advertised in the two venues where I usually see it. (They probably didn't want to advertise using the terms kick ass heroines.)
In theory when I initially propose these ideas for myself I think it's smart. My brain conjures up all kinds of convincing psycho babble to convince me. "Get outside your comfort zone. Push yourself. Put yourself out there." But as it draws near and the reality of the situation hits me full force, I come to the conclusions that either my brain is trying to kill me or I'm just a complete idiot.
Gotta say I'm afraid my homicidal brain might come up with something like a Tourette Syndrome outburst, though I don't suffer from the disorder, to murder me with embarrassment immediately upon speaking. My go-to curse words for the past two months have been fucktard and shit balls, (though maybe I'll work in futtering just to make it complete).
So I'm thinking it should be a pretty interesting meeting.
The Game Is...Something
2 days ago