Weblog Sin Pies

By Charley Daniels

Tuesday is my first panel discussion ever and quite possibly my last, too. All on the same day! I’m a little nervous.

What if I say something stupid? Or something so brilliant no one understands and it’s wasted? Or what if I accidentally start out the night by saying something perfect, smart, just right, and then the bar is too high?

I got the questions today, and they’re quite simple — which adds to my nervousness. When you’re on a panel and the moderator asks you a question, you can’t just be all, “Yes.” With an involved question, there’s no danger of that. At least you’ll stammer a little and say “um” and sigh a lot. That takes up some time.

The other thing about the questions is they’re more specifically personal than I imagined. I think the first one is about the panelists’ backgrounds and career path, something like that. And the rest follow that line of “in your experience…” or “what’s your advice for….” Which totally makes sense, because what the hell else are they going to ask me? And it’s perfect, because I generally know the answers to questions that begin with some sort of “tell me about you” query. But I’m still uneasy, because people will be looking at me. And other reasons as well.

What if they videotape it? Off-camera, I’m a medium-sized, medium-complected, standard-voiced dude. On-camera, I’m a weird, squat, pale, buzzing-voiced freak with a weird profile and no chin. (Feel free to let me know if this is actually how I am in real life, as well. If that’s the case, I guess I don’t have to worry about it.) Plus, one of the first things we learned growing up was video is often the best evidence that you’ve done something.

What if people are taking notes? Then maybe I’ll say something blatantly wrong and no one realizes but me, and I’ll see someone scribbling that down. Then what? Go up afterward and be like, “Remember that whole thing I said about fusion and fission and mathematics? You should just cross that out.” But knowing and admitting you’ve said something stupid is more embarrassing than saying something stupid to begin with. What’s next, apologizing when I hurt someone’s feelings? Being honest about where I’ve been all night? Keeping promises? Where does it end?

Anything could happen Tuesday, is all I’m saying. So I have to be prepared.

I mean, what if I’m really great and then I get asked back for more discussions and then it becomes a thing where I’m traveling the world chatting about editing and new media. And then I’ll have to quit my editing jobs. No time for real work, what with the panels and world traveling. But then I’m no longer working in the field that I’ve become so adept at talking about. Then what? I lose my new job as a panelist, that’s what, because it doesn’t make sense. I’m broke now, and starving and homeless too. But then I join the motivational-speaker circuit. “I had it all and now I’m homeless,” I’ll tell people. Major comeback! Money, fame, more-prestigious panels. Admirers, groupies, VD. Dementia, wacky memoir, fairly early death. Is this the life I want? I have to decide now. Like, right now.

By Charley Daniels

My last post was an August Fools joke! I got you so good.

Moving on.

This conversation just happened while Isabelle and I were watching gymnastics:

Isabelle: Did he just say “full tootsie double back?”

Charley: No, “full twisting double back.”

Isabelle: No, “tootsie.”

[pause]

Charley: Which makes more sense?

Okay, maybe I should address that August Fools joke that you all fell so hard for. As with all good lies, the way I made it work was that I made myself believe it for a couple days. See? I told myself that I was, in fact, going to give up drinking completely until Sept. 11. But inside my mind there was this hidden place where I keep things that even I don’t want to know. In there a voice said, “Actually, that’s not true, but let’s go with this for a while.” And thus the best ever Weblog Sin Pies August Fools joke was perpetrated. I hope you liked it!

Look, the problem with giving up drinking completely for one month is it’s not nearly as fun and delicious as not giving up drinking. Do you know what I mean? For example, I’m fairly certain that if it weren’t for Ketel One, I wouldn’t have come home at 4 a.m. Saturday morning covered in sand, the result of a tumble I took at the beach while trying to put my pants back on. I mean, these are the stories that we partially remember for most of the rest of our late 20s and early 30s, so I owe it to myself to keep that going. Don’t I?

And in case you’re wondering, the much more reasonable part of me has agreed to the “only drinking on the weekend and during public speaking” plan, which I think is far more realistic and also very healthy of me. Everything in moderation, people. Everything.

By Charley Daniels

So I’m going to try not to drink any sort of boozy liquid for a month. I started a couple days ago, but I thought I would wait to see how well I did before I actually wrote about it here. I’ve tried this before a couple times and have failed each time. In fact, when I told Isabelle I was going to do it she just said, “Yeah, right.” And in the couple days I’ve been sticking to it, whenever I mention it (which is often, because I whine) she rolls her eyes like I just told her I was training to become a superhero.

I know what you’re thinking: “This post looks really long. And wordy.” And you might also be wondering why I decided to stop drinking for a month. In the immortal words of my mom, who’s been known to rock down a drink or two: When it comes to abstaining from alcohol, sometimes it’s a good idea to see if you actually can. There may be other benefits as well.

But! I’ve already stepped in it big time, because yesterday I agreed to participate in a panel discussion about editors and new media. It’s in two weeks and it takes place at a bar. Though I’m certain I’m able to go to a bar to hang out without having a drink, it’s a whole different thing when I’m there to step on stage and be informative for aspiring editors who will probably be listening to what I say and might even be looking directly at me while I say it. I’ve come a long way from my thespian society days, and over the last 10 years I’ve lost every ounce of my ability to speak in public without feeling like a complete asshole. And I think we can all agree that that was a good change.

So I can stick with the program, try not to cave, and maybe huff some paint in the parking lot before the panel. Or I can make an exception for the one day. Trouble with making an exception is, right now I can drink pretty good, mostly owing to my Oregon vacation. Tolerance is sky high. But after not having had anything to drink for two weeks, I could get myself into trouble by overestimating how much booze I can handle — just before I step on stage as a guest panelist. I can see how this may seem like a win-win situation. For you. But there are plenty of reasons why I don’t want to stagger up there. My fellow panelists almost certainly won’t be cockeyed drunk, especially the one from the venerable public institution NPR, which hands out gravitas to strangers on the street because its people don’t know what to do with all the extra. I suppose I could just, you know, go easy. Which is something I am capable of. But nerves! Maybe I’ll wait to see what the questions are and then decide from there.

I can drink again, officially, on Sept. 11. I thought that was good day to come back because it’s easy to remember and it’s a good excuse to drink. Until then, I’ll miss beer. For more reasons than most people realize.

P.S. Some of you may intermittently notice a hilarious ad for “penis reduction pills” above the header. What can I say, the check cleared.