All you do to me is talk, talk

I am going to have to break the habit of using song lyrics as my titles very quickly or I'll wind up having to do it forever and that's not something I really want to do to myself. Makes the idea of posting in the journal just a tad more daunting.

Speaking of.

I used to podcast. "Used to" meaning that it's been a good long while (five-ish years?) and the time gets away from you, but so do the skills. And then, before you know it, so does the drive.

Now, I still listen to podcasts. Moreover, I mostly listen to ones made by people I know, several of whom I met while doing podcasts. A lot of them were guests on my show ("my" as in I co-hosted things like Podcast of Terror and Elsenerds, not mine in that I was the controlling force of either of those things).

Phil, for instance, once told me that he looked up to me because I was a part of things like the Galactic Netcasts/Network group. Nevermind the fact that I strong-armed my way into doing shows with that gang, and for whatever reason, they allowed me to. But the way I saw it, I globbed my way into hanging with the cool kids, and that somehow meant that I exuded some kind of residual cool energy.

Mostly, I liked having conversations with people. And I thought these folks were some of the most fun and interesting to chat with.

I'd done a show with my closest friends for a few years before this. Very underground (meaning no one heard of it ), but we did wind up with one "fan" who later joined us and became a part of the group, even as the show itself faded away.

Anyway, it took me some time and, more, some reaction from Dave (head of GN at the time) to figure out what I actually brought to the table when it came to being on a show. And that, it seems, was going off on a rant.

Once I figured that out, I leaned in. Hard.

I'm not going to say it was an endearing trait for the people who were attempting to do a show with me. Or that I was necessarily interesting or smart-sounding. But if you picked a subject that I had even a passing knowledge of, I could probably rattle off five to ten minutes of rage-excitement and fill air. And, although we were always a very small blip on the podcast charts (even when podcast charts were much shorter and more obscure to the general public), we had what I always felt were very humbling numbers of people who, if not listened to us, at least downloaded our show every week. And yes, somehow or another, we wound up with some fans on those shows as well.

Which I always did my damnedest to turn into actual friends. Fans confuse me. Friends confuse me too, but in a more delightful way most of the time.

Now, five years away from it all, and just as many years away from really having many people in my direct contact to talk with on a regular basis (work chitchat doesn't count), I've gotten way more guarded and, to be quite honest, silent. I mean, I talk all day for work. I field phone calls and help people with their tech. But being pleasant and helpful isn't the same as being interesting.

I just haven't felt very interesting. Or, maybe worse, I haven't felt like saying the things I think out loud any more. Because the things I think aren't pleasant or helpful, or even fun and interesting.

It kind of feels like I lost track of who I used to be. Or, I see who I am now, and I don't think anyone is begging for this guy to get on a microphone.

Which somehow isn't completely true. I have, as of this week, as many as three different people/shows encouraging me to come join them for a chat. One person who has been extraordinarily patient for the last couple of years while I have been crawling my way towards "getting my shit together" enough for my office and life to be ready to get on a stream again. Another person just hit me up because we had a nice back and forth relating to their show. And this past week, two friends I knew from "back in the day" are relaunching their old podcast that I had guested on a couple of times, and asked me to guest on the first ep.

This is so exciting and a huge compliment and I feel... Terrified. Defeated. Total imposter syndrome.

Erin and I watched the new Babish podcast from this week (we're big fans) where he's talking with Josh from Mythical Kitchen, and they get into the brain chemistry of imposter syndrome and how it still affects both of them. Josh appears to have a better handle on it, having put in a ton of work to physically feel more secure so he can have an easier time getting the mental stuff manageable.

Andrew seems to still be fighting with his headspace. And, I mean... This is the Babish guy. Easily one of the top YouTubers at this point, at least from the cooking world. Supremely smart and entertaining and funny and brilliant in execution. Seemingly someone who can talk about literally anything and make it a fun time.

And he talks about how he feels going into a show or podcast the way that I have always felt. Like, there is no way in Hell anyone would or should listen to me and what I have to say. And, like me, he goes into every show with utter dread. And then he's suddenly doing it, feels at ease, has the time of his life. And then its done, and he's back to feeling that same unworthiness for when he goes into his next show.

Now, to me, this is a guy who is at the top of the game. And how can he feel the same shittiness and undeservedness about himself that I do? I will never be at his level. I'm not even trying to be. I just want to chat up some friends and have a good time, and if others we invite in can laugh and learn along with us, that's maybe the best feeling in the world to me.

But then I remember. Back before he was at the (much higher than I, in my opinion) level as a podcast host that he is today, Phil looked up to me. And I remember Brandon telling me, the first time I got invited onto Mind of a Geek, that he was excited to talk to me, just me and Matt (granted, he loved Matt too. He just wanted me to know that I offered something that was enough just on my own). The first time we got fan mail on the D20 (not that one. The other one), or when Matt and I got an email from Lucy in England for PoT saying she was our fan from overseas, yes, it wasn't just about me, but I was very much a part of both those shows. So at least I wasn't so atrocious as to be a complete turn-off from what everyone else was doing.

Still, I can't fix my brain. I have spent my entire life basically hating myself. Convincing myself that everyone else hates me even more. Which is ridiculous... No one can hate more more than I do. It would take up so much of their time.

So I'm trying to psych myself up. As well as doing the physical stuff I have to for getting the office just up to "workable" status. Perfect is the enemy of done, but the state of my office is the kid giving Done a daily wedgie and stealing its milk money. And yes, I've been trying to work towards perfect, or even just adequate. But in three weeks time, I won't have the choice. I've condemned myself to going back into podcast mode, pretending I have something compelling to share with strangers (and some old friends) on the internet.

I guess it's only as ridiculous as anyone else that does it. It's not going to change the world. But it hopefully won't make the world any worse than it already is. The bar is tremendously low right now at least.

I just hope I remember how to talk.