I'm in a very introspective place right now. Last night I hosted the moderators/speakers workshop for InterPLAY, the St. Louis Interactive Festival so many of us have been yammering on about. We held it in Chris's building and it was the very first time such a large group of people outside Chris and Doug's circle saw it.
It was also the first time that I met a handful of area
bloggers whose work and personalities I've admired from afar. One by one I met
them at the massive metal side door before we trekked through unfinished construction
and up the elevator to the finished
After the meeting Chris gave an impromptu tour of his building. This building has shaved an easy five years' off of our life. But what is duration if it's hollow? What is life if you don't at least stick a toe into the unknown everyday? I hung in the back as he explained each room, his motivation, the purpose of the place. That building is his dream manifested. We are going through such a stressful time right now, it seems like this past year has been a series of those. Looking back they seem nothing more than a bunch of scattered vignettes, frozen moments of tears, heartache, frustration.
I tried to downplay my absolute terror at the enormous weight of such a dream, to scoff at the various amounts of stress we've been under to pull this off, by making a couple of jokes here and there. I didn't know what the people there thought of it everything, until I read Mae's account this morning. Her words pierced through it all and relieved some of the pressure, somehow, simply because she gets it. (Read her post.) When I told her that sometimes Chris and I lie in bed at night, turn and look at each other with terror in our hearts and tears in our eyes, and silently communicate "Oh my gawd. What if we fail?" it was the most honest I've ever been about this entire experience with anyone. Like, just by even admitting the possibility will make failure a reality or something.
The good - or sad - thing is that I am so driven for him, that drive, that belief in him has eliminated my doubts, my cynicism that it won't work. He doesn't have bad ideas. His planning, his execution, is spot-on. Sometimes I get so frustrated living with a counterpart who is so much better than me on so many levels but it's the reason why when he extends his hand while standing at the edge of a cliff and says "Jump. Trust me," I do.
And I jump.
I also enjoy watching him on the cusp of accomplishing his life's dream, second he says, to us. (I don't care how sappy that sounds. That's where my head is right now.)
So as he was telling everyone about recording music, about his building, a legacy really, and sweeping his arms all around, I was proud. Pride tempered with fear. For so long I've felt very alone in this feeling. Because of that I'm thrilled to have met Mae and realize that she gets it, too, she's there herself. She's right on the cusp of something amazing.
When people do well in
A lot of them will be at InterPLAY this weekend. I would be over the moon if you could join us.