Today we were driving on the interstate and we passed some old apartment building called Pickwick something or other. I remembered being 12 years old, moving from my little town to Indianapolis, driving on the interstate and seeing this place. Pickwick. I thought it sounded romantic. Like Dickens.
There is a building along the side of the main apartment complex, a big talll building with aluminum siding all over. I don't know what goes on there, something sportyish, but to me it was ajsdjkal-- excuse me I just killed a fly on my keyboard, for real-- but to me it was a landmark and it was given value, this aluminum building, because I knew it was a place I would never go and that people there play a sport I'll never know how to play and live in apartment rooms I'll never enter. It was like a place I didn't belong. And I could feel that when our car would pass. I don't know why.
I was an only child until I was 15 so there are a lot of things I don't know about. Dumb things. Board games. Bowling. Dumb things. But things. I have never ever played checkers. When people try to tell me how to bowl better, I have a panic attack and a meltdown. I remove my bowling shoes. I threaten to walk home.
I think I used to feel like that about BlogHer and Blissdom and Conference Time Season on Twitter and all that. Even though I went to Blogher in Chicago a couple of years ago. I still felt like I didn't belong. Like it was this place I didn't quite get. But I just heard that the 2012 Blogher Conference is in New York City, and I swear to you, I will find a way to go. I think I might even belong.