We techie types tend to be a pretty solitary lot. Or, at least, that's the stereotype: coding away, in a dimly lit cave somewhere, the carcasses of energy drink cans and pizza boxes strewn about haphazardly. In my case, that's generally true.
But I'm sitting in the midst of some great technical minds at Velocity 2008, and I'm something of a minority. Nearly everyone here has someone else, and I'm more alone and awkward than a traditionally alone-and-awkward bunch. Without the persistent exercise, my verbals skills regress to a series of grunts and stutters on the odd occasion someone addresses me. A podcast host, looking for a story, finds my mumbled responses too boring to pursue. Sitting in the atrium bar, the waitress doesn't even approach me, even though I'm eager to throw money at her for food and drink.
Contrary to popular belief, many geeks tend to act confidently in crowds. They seem to be happy striking up conversations with complete strangers, knowing they have some nugget of technical expertise and language in common. Or they seem to be happy plugging away on their laptops; none of them looks around nervously like I do, searching for a familiar face, or for a familiar name... or for someone to cut through the buzzing conversations with a friendly word.
But no one comes. Instead, I'm drinking another glass of free wine, substituting conversations in front of me with a few words on a blog directed to no one, written as a self-pitying bit of catharsis. I'm left with self-analysis, through which I find that I'm much more of an extrovert than I've been in the past. Even though I'm no good at it, I find myself increasingly craving conversations and human interaction.
Bah, I've descended into my navel, and I'm not sure how to get back out. Better cut my losses, post this while I still want to, and see if there's any of that free wine left.
I am currently eating a bag of Spicy Sweet Chili Doritos, and it is 100% due to Stephen Colbert.