day 3: sunday.
i roll out of bed, feeling like i haven't gotten any sleep at all. i throw on some clothes and wander to the convention center, going straight to the bagels and coffee. the keynote speech has barely begun when i slip inside the half-packed room. the room goes dark, and the macromedia guys show us the flashy flash.

i am sitting by the aisle and a woman without realizing almost sits on the lap of the guy in front of me. i stop her just in time and tell her there's an empty seat beside me. i quickly regret it, because each time something "distasteful" comes on the screen, she taps me on my shoulder and gives me a disapproving look, like what is this world coming to? and each time, i just shrug, as if to reply, i have no idea, ma'm, although really i'm thinking, lady, how old are you and why are you even here?

i am not a morning person.

...

i have lost all sense of time and don't realize that it is sunday and i should be going to church until tuesday when my mom is on the phone and asks me where i went to mass.

...

the first panel i go to is something about design trends. i am half-listening.

this guy across the room keeps looking at me, or i think he is. i am not particularly attracted to him -- he reminds me of someone, i'm not sure who -- but i keep looking just to see if he's still looking, and he is, but probably only because he thinks i'm looking, and we do this dance for the whole hour that we're there.

also, i fascinated by the 12-year-old designer from canada who is on the panel. when i was 12, i was playing ding-dong-ditch and plastering my wall with wham.

...

i don't have a cell phone (we're "landline-locked," dana says), but it's easy to find whoever you're looking for because everyone congregates in the same spot.

lunch plans are being made, but there are too many people to gather and there is too little time to eat. "no time for lunch," karin says, is the #1 thing sxsw needs to change, and she's so right.

...

the "freelancing in new media" roundtable is packed and i am sitting on the floor toward the back of the room. it is fascinating, only because derek powazek and lance arthur are speaking, and i have long been enamored with their work. it is boring, because i am not a web designer nor a freelancer. somebody makes a comment about how important content is, but nobody talks about writing for the web. boohoo for me.

...

at the next roundtable, "confessional websites and life online," i sit between ariana french and jack, at the back of the room directly across from maura, so i can make faces at her. pamie ribon introduces herself and the rest of the panel, maura and stephen falk. all three have well-known personal websites.

"since this is a roundtable, why don't the rest of you introduce yourselves, tell us how you started your sites and why?" pamie says, looking at us, the people around the table.

panic strikes. i lean over to ariana. "do we have to say something?"

"no, i don't think so," she says.

"okay, good."

but, still, i am sweating. everyone at the table is speaking, and almost all of them have personal sites.

i begin to wonder if it would be obvious if i slivered out of my chair and onto the floor. probably, so instead i nervously scoot my chair back, inch by inch by inch. for some silly reason, i think if i am not sitting right at the table, they won't notice me.

"are you nervous?" jack whispers.

"no, i am not going to say anything, do we have to say something? i don't want to say anything. i'mnotgoingtotalk."

"i'm nervous," he admits.

"yeah," i sigh, "me too."

...

it's my turn, and i feel like i am in high school and my teacher has just called on me to share my essay with the class.

"do i have to?" i ask, in one last attempt to escape, but i make the mistake of looking straight at maura who declares, "yes," into the microphone.

"hi. i'm christine, and the only reason i'm sitting at the table is because at the last panel i was sitting on the floor, and i wanted to get a seat this time," i say, nervously. a few people laugh. "but i do have a personal site, and it's maganda dot org."

the six colored boxes are on and off the screen in no time, and i realize it wasn't a big deal at all.

after the panel, a woman approaches me and tells me she's read my site and likes it very much. her name is sarah, and she came all this way from hawaii. we chat for a few minutes, and she leaves me standing by the drinking fountain, glowing. suddenly i understand how truly addictive this can be.

...

after dinner, another meal of delicious food and hearty conversation, brenna and i go back to the hotel. there's a party at the frog design offices in an hour.

in my room, i contemplate writing -- at this point i've barely filled a couple pages -- but decide instead to pull down the covers and crawl into bed, convincing myself i'm just lying down, not sleeping. next thing i know my eyes blink open and i look at the clock: it's 9:30. at first i think i am late for the bagels and coffee and keynote, but then realize it's nighttime.

...

walking up congress, we notice an image of a frog projected onto the side of the building and a line of people waiting outside, and know we are in the right place. we fall into place behind a small asian girl who is smiling. her name is cathy, and she's a web designer at frog in san francisco. she just arrived an hour before and is as disoriented as we are. we are handed red sponge clown noses and are led upstairs. it seems like everyone is already there.

we lose brenna immediately, and cathy and i swim in the crowd. a cute boy grins as we approach, and he throws his arms around cathy and then me, saying he's so glad we're here.

"i don't think you know me," i say.

"yeah i do," he says. "we went bowling the other night."

i laugh. "nope, that wasn't me."

"oh my gosh, i'm so sorry," he says, blushing. "well you get a hug anyway." and he embraces me as if we are old friends.

it's a circus, with clowns and cotton candy. i have a beer.

...

i find jack, and he asks me where i've been. i just woke up, i tell him, are you having a good time? yes, he says happily, and then he tells me how he made eye contact with a cute girl.

...

there is nothing attractive, or even enticing, or even enigmatic about dragging a condom through your nose, down your throat and out of your mouth. yet, we are all sitting on the floor in amazement. that's when i know it's time to leave.

a whole bunch of us are standing on the corner outside the building for no reason at all. one by one, everyone leaves. nikolai and i walk back to the hotel and share our impressions of everything and everyone so far.

"some people are as interesting as their weblogs, some are less interesting as their weblogs, and some are just the same," he says.

and me? i almost ask, but i decide i don't really want to know.

>>