Oh yes I did.
Unfortunately, because it was a
cozy little bar and I was fifteen minutes late because I don't know my right from my left (true story), I swear every person turned towards me for evaluation as I realized there were no seats left, found a spot at the bar and clung to the counter for dear life.
I was a nervous disaster for the first 45 minutes.
Alone! At a bar! With
a cool jazz band! And
amazing women! And no clue how I would meet any of them. Sure I'm loud once I'm in a group of people I know, but in a room full of strangers (awesome strangers -
so much worse!) I would rather be invisible and hide in a corner (preferably behind my invisible camera). Lucky for me, there were no corners left and Karen took her place on stage to read with the band.
Then I had to pee, realized in the bathroom I had an unzipped pocket and no phone, darted out of the bar (hoping
Karen wouldn't take it personally), found my phone, came back in, met
Darrah, and found that I was still just me and had nothing to fear.
It's very hard to know who you are when you go out alone after years of being in the company of little clingy beings, taking a break only to go out and work. I was on an artist date with myself, struggling to remember what we had in common. And then Karen started talking about confidence and how she got tired of trying to be someone else (I'd get sick of putting product in my hair for 30 years, too...)- not even the person people expected her to be, just the person she
thought people expected her to be. The only person making her be someone else was... herself.
I don't mind being alone, so why was I panicked that everyone else would consider me socially inept? The bartender asked which beer I would like, kindly warned me that my choice was bitter, so I laughed and said,
It won't matter! It didn't. It all tastes like crap to me and I just wanted something to sip. It was perfect.
It didn't matter when I started taking pictures of the floor. It didn't matter when I smiled at different parts of Karen's book than everyone else. It didn't matter that Karen moved to the music like it was in her soul and I was stiffly leaning against the bar shoveling cheesecake into my mouth. No one there expected me to groove with the music, that's just what I
thought people would expect of me. That's not me. I appreciate music by watching the artful way the mechanics of the instruments become music. I appreciate the great company by watching candlelit bubbles rise in a glass. I appreciate Karen's sweet, confident readings with a piece of chocolate cheesecake.
If you haven't already gotten your copy of Karen Walrond's
The Beauty of Different, go now. Do it. And then put it on your life list to meet her, because her view on life will improve yours. In the mean time, follow
Karen's blog, Chookooloonks because it will put a little more wonder into your day, and that's never a bad thing.
P.S. If you're a Seattle local, definitely cut out some time to see the
Jason Parker Quartet. They are fantastic.
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