A week from Saturday is something called Throw Your Voice, which is billed as "a single day conference for bloggers, podcasters, videocasters and other new media producers that will be held at the Oklahoma City Coworking Collaborative in Midtown Oklahoma City on Saturday October 3rd, 2009."

The very phrase "new media" makes my eyes glaze over, but apparently I'm considered part of same. From the email telling me about the conference:

It is aimed at both the new blogger / podcaster as well as the old hat. You have been around blogging for awhile and I think you would have much to offer to the less experienced bloggers.

Of course, as the regulars know, "old hat" describes me to a T, or perhaps some other letter not so skinny-looking. As I wrote in "Chapeau vieux" about a year ago:

I figure this is the time to point out something I thought was perfectly obvious: I first hung out this shingle more than a decade ago. By Internet standards, this is pre-Cambrian; certainly I can't boast of newness, a characteristic much prized on the Web, while still purveying this by-now old-hat shtick.

But being a known quantity does help to clarify my perspective. By now, just about anyone who is interested in Oklahoma blogs is either reading me already or has made a conscious decision not to read me. And I'm fine with that: differences of opinion, with a little help from gravity, make the world go round.

Which makes me wonder, therefore: what would I have to say? The days when I putatively bestrode the local blog scene like a Colossus are long gone, and who the hell wants to hear from someone who'd casually toss off a word like "bestrode" anyway?

Still, there's this nagging voice somewhere north of the nape of the neck which tells me I ought to attend this thing, if only to bask in the adulation of the youngsters. (If I could locate that voice, I'd be sorely tempted to put a sock in it. Literally.) And while I'm naturally suspicious of anything that smacks of egoboo, I'm not entirely immune to its pull.

So I did what I always do under circumstances like these: stall. The invitation came in ten days ago; I have made no response one way or another. Perhaps I'm hoping that the 100 open slots will be filled and no one will miss me. And I wonder just where I get off thinking that any of the New Breed of "new media" types actually regard me as anything other than a dusty antique with a crazed finish and a wobbly stance. Still, the proponents insist, "We all have something to offer!" And presumably they meant to include the ancient veteran who keeps trotting out the same old war stories.

Still, if I'm honest with myself, I have to include this old war story, from the spring of 2005:

[I]t's not because I've been embraced by the A-list (I haven't) or because I've worked diligently to promote the site (I haven't): it's simply that I turn out rather a lot of words, and sooner or later somebody reads them and finds them somewhat worthy. In other words, there's some truth to that possibly-apocryphal Woody Allen quote about how half/80 percent/90 percent (choose one) of life is just showing up. It's not like I'm anything special, but dammit, I'm here.

And there's a lot to be said for practicing what one preaches.

The Vent

  25 September 2009

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 Copyright © 2009 by Charles G. Hill