Awkward Metaphors

I'm getting ready for the academic conference cycle, which for me begins with the sociology meetings in August. I always have mixed feelings about these conferences. They're important for professional reasons, but socially they can be intimidating, embarrassing, and sometimes painful. I love seeing good friends and sometimes enjoy meeting new people, but I also dread the numerous socially awkward moments. ASA is the most uncomfortable meeting for me, probably because of the strong negative associations from grad school that seem to be dissipating very, very slowly with time.

I came across Sarah Vowell's funny description of her own social awkwardness as I was beginning to read Assassination Vacation:

"But when I'm around strangers, I turn into a conversational Mount St. Helens. I'm dormant, dormant, quiet, quiet, old-guy loners build log cabins on the slopes of my silence and then, boom, it's 1980. Once I erupt they'll be wiping my verbal ashes off their windshields as far away as North Dakota" (p. 4).


I can't completely relate to the Mt. St. Helens metaphor. Rather than a volcano, I'm more like a fumarole. Rather than a full blown explosion of verbiage, I'm much more likely to emit a short burst of sarcasm or perhaps a quiet snide remark that sort of lingers over the conversation.

(That reminds me ... I should scan our honeymoon pictures from Yellowstone. There are some great geysers and fumaroles in those photos.)