Last night was very nice (I hear Neil Gaiman in the back of my memory, saying "It was very nice." My mind is no help), though the Tea Lounge is not (was not?) a place where I felt totally comfortable. I looked around at the people there, and felt too big (been feeling that a lot lately), too old, too not-white, too not-artistic, too not-professional....
It's odd, I suppose. Some places feel like people are more loudly X (where X is a quality that they deem important); some gatherings, too. (Remembering a fannish gathering in NYC, where it seemed that the name and history of the gathering were supposed to impart some sort of magic to the get-togethers, and the people didn't have to contribute. No, it didn't work.)
On the other hand, it could have been because of the loud (probably drunk) group near us, including the man who felt obliged to imitate a newborn's scream, then apologized, saying, "She really does sound like this: AAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHH!" and the woman tearing up one of the weekly free papers and commenting on the ads for Asian call girls.
Despite these things, Judge and I talked for a couple of hours about a variety of things, and I enjoyed myself. (Aside: why do men, so often, have amazing lashes? Soren's are long and gold-tipped, so the length is half-hidden unless they catch the light; Mark's are so long and dense that they cross and half-tangle at the corners of his eyes; and Judge has improbably long black lashes, fanning around intense eyes that seem to be a green-infused brown. [Me? I use mascara, and still can't achieve that affect.]) Another evening of conversation, from which I left with new information, including enough knowledge of some things to begin investigating them, and memories of two people with odd patterns of eye contact trying to connect with each other.
(It's only been in the past five years or so that I've learned how to make eye contact with people in what are considered normal patterns in this culture. And even so, I don't think I do it "right," else my doctor wouldn't constantly be saying, "You have wide eyes and a slightly fixed stare. have I checked your thyroid recently?")
It's odd, I suppose. Some places feel like people are more loudly X (where X is a quality that they deem important); some gatherings, too. (Remembering a fannish gathering in NYC, where it seemed that the name and history of the gathering were supposed to impart some sort of magic to the get-togethers, and the people didn't have to contribute. No, it didn't work.)
On the other hand, it could have been because of the loud (probably drunk) group near us, including the man who felt obliged to imitate a newborn's scream, then apologized, saying, "She really does sound like this: AAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHH!" and the woman tearing up one of the weekly free papers and commenting on the ads for Asian call girls.
Despite these things, Judge and I talked for a couple of hours about a variety of things, and I enjoyed myself. (Aside: why do men, so often, have amazing lashes? Soren's are long and gold-tipped, so the length is half-hidden unless they catch the light; Mark's are so long and dense that they cross and half-tangle at the corners of his eyes; and Judge has improbably long black lashes, fanning around intense eyes that seem to be a green-infused brown. [Me? I use mascara, and still can't achieve that affect.]) Another evening of conversation, from which I left with new information, including enough knowledge of some things to begin investigating them, and memories of two people with odd patterns of eye contact trying to connect with each other.
(It's only been in the past five years or so that I've learned how to make eye contact with people in what are considered normal patterns in this culture. And even so, I don't think I do it "right," else my doctor wouldn't constantly be saying, "You have wide eyes and a slightly fixed stare. have I checked your thyroid recently?")