I never know what to do with myself. I think I come across as one of those annoying people that attaches, leech-like, to anything remotely famous. In reality, I'm just utterly taken with anyone with the ability to inspire others, and have a bad habit of staring to see the intricacies with which they commit said social seductions.
It's like the difference between a timex and a old-school Bavarian cuckoo clock. Both adequately perform the same function, but one is infinitely more interesting. I feel like the same black-on-grey LCD numbers with the blinking colon between, but I feel happiness, not envy or obsessiveness, to be in the presence of a social marvel of carved wood and curiously peek-a-booing milkmaids and musical avians.
I love the group of ladies that I've recently tossed myself into the social circles of. Brilliant, vibrant, and decidedly awe-inspiring, all. I'm due to go to a party peopled robustly with these shimmering gems of sexual wordsmithing shortly, and profess to being nervous for the first time in a long while. I feel like I'm falling back on cliches, staring sightlessly into the deep recesses of my closet and muttering "But what am I going to wear?" And New York! Only a short hour's journey from the safety and comfort of my house, but a large and intimidating metropolis, filled with acronyms denoting places I've likely only passed through on grade school class trips to go see Cats.
And naturally, I worry about making an ass out of myself. Faced with Dan Savage, and in the company of the delightful Jamye Waxman and Tristan Taormino, all I could manage to blurt out was this story. Add in that I had a delerious 102 fever and a heavily liquored cocktail of some sort, and I'm fairly sure I'd managed to convince three important people, simultaneously, that I was an idiot. I also hugged Audacia Ray at a convention because I thought I knew her. She was very gracious, considering a stranger took a fair amount of liberty with her personal space.
Alternately, I'm so pleased to be able to offer something up for the sake of the greater good, like managing to coordinate items for the calendar raffle, or let a blogger know that a new toy is coming out in their favorite shape, or maybe this lubricant might be good for their allergies, etc. It's really neat to be able to share things I learn with people that can use them.
At the end of the day, I am a toychick. Not a sex blogger proper, more of a roadie for the sex blogger society. I like it here, though. It's comfy.
-TTC
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4 comments:
Can I be the cuckoo clock?
I was just commenting on twitter today what was I going to wear to this party. Don't worry, I'm sure whatever we wear this will be a fun time for all of us.
Don't forget about brunch the next day either.
Wow TTC. You are a beautiful, eloquent and interesting writer. I really enjoyed reading this and other posts of yours!
And idiot is not a word I'd ever use to describe you - unless you wanted to be called an idiot because it turns you on.
I'm looking forward to hanging out with you in NY. It's a smaller city than you might imagine and I know you'll have fun! See you soon.
Aww..thanks guys. *blush* I dunno, guess I'm sort of starstruck and happy the blogosphere has let me sneak in.
I hope to get my "sexbloggish" pedigree up to snuff over time - I've blogged personally for over 10 years, but not in the industry - and continue to meet the awesome people behind all these blogrolls I see.
You guys are great. :)
I didn't start this adventure intending to be a "sex blogger" rather more of a life blogger.
Over the course of the last three years I have fallen in blogger love with more than my fair share of sex bloggers. Rachel, Audacia, and Catalina are the ones that come to mind immediately but if you look at my links page you will see countless others.
If I met them, in person, I'd probably be an idiot. I might even cry little girl tears because I would be so awestruck.(Which is why I guess it's a good thing I'm not able to go to NYC!)
I'm glad you've added your unique voice.
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