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Up and at 'em!
Oct. 1st, 2003 07:32 amProbably the worst part about telecons, for me, is the night before. I sleep poorly, ever nervous that somehow, for some reason, I'll oversleep. Other interpreters I know have gone to the extent of buying multiple alarm clocks, to preclude the possibility of not showing up for a telecon.
Part of last night's pre-telecon jitters for me was a disturbing dream (or maybe I wasn't asleep, but only thinking) in which I end up old and destitute at some time in the future. The more I think of it, the more I believe I was not actually sleeping, because as some part of me - the incorrigible optimist - found ways to deal with the situation, the miserable pessimist in me would restart the story with some additional handicap added to the mix: sickness, blindness, and so on.
The fact that the local coyote chorus decided to do their version of Handel's Messiah at 4:45 am did not help.
In any event, this morning's telecon itself was a piece of cake. In the aftermath, I get the feeling that I probably could have written an interesting book on the joint space program, based simply on the many and sundry telecons I've been a part of over the years. There have been so many different kinds of telecons and many different kinds of principals involved: bureaucrats, pedants, good-old-boys, comedians, nerds, budding linguists, insensitive louts, overly sensitive puffballs (and oh, yes, ordinary janes and joes, too).
Unfortunately, I don't retain such experiences in memory for long (I have always been somewhat envious of people who write detailed memoirs that include names, dates, times, and places - one would suppose from memory, although detailed journals are probably not excluded), so anything I would come up with today would be a series of composites with little depth or real renderings of character.
Time to get ready for the rest of the day.
Cheers...
Part of last night's pre-telecon jitters for me was a disturbing dream (or maybe I wasn't asleep, but only thinking) in which I end up old and destitute at some time in the future. The more I think of it, the more I believe I was not actually sleeping, because as some part of me - the incorrigible optimist - found ways to deal with the situation, the miserable pessimist in me would restart the story with some additional handicap added to the mix: sickness, blindness, and so on.
The fact that the local coyote chorus decided to do their version of Handel's Messiah at 4:45 am did not help.
In any event, this morning's telecon itself was a piece of cake. In the aftermath, I get the feeling that I probably could have written an interesting book on the joint space program, based simply on the many and sundry telecons I've been a part of over the years. There have been so many different kinds of telecons and many different kinds of principals involved: bureaucrats, pedants, good-old-boys, comedians, nerds, budding linguists, insensitive louts, overly sensitive puffballs (and oh, yes, ordinary janes and joes, too).
Unfortunately, I don't retain such experiences in memory for long (I have always been somewhat envious of people who write detailed memoirs that include names, dates, times, and places - one would suppose from memory, although detailed journals are probably not excluded), so anything I would come up with today would be a series of composites with little depth or real renderings of character.
Time to get ready for the rest of the day.
Cheers...
