I'm living in a funky condo complex in Cambridge and I've suggested an impromptu high school reunion with all of my Facebook high school friends. My old friend Laurie Ward is still really close and she, along with BMG, are around discussing the party. At some point in time a light goes on in my head that people may actually show up for the party, that this isn't just Facebook and we won't just send virtual beers to one another, but will actually see one another. So I realize that my house needs to be cleaned up. A pile of hardware on the floor from some sort of home improvement project gets put into plastic bags, and I tidy up the outside deck. And then people start arriving. Tons more people than I know through high school - including some I don't recognize (it was 20 years ago after all). As people arrive I find myself marveling at each one, trying to guess who they are and learn what they've been doing. At some point I realize I've been a terrible hostess, not just because I haven't offered anyone a drink, but because I forgot to buy drinks and snacks. I know I have some red wine somewhere - because I always have red wine in the house. So I start to rummage around a cluttered counter to find a bottle of wine. As I'm frantically searching, but trying to remain composed, the person with whom I'm speaking says, "I don't drink anymore. Do you happen to have ginger ale?" Someone else chimes in (I think it was Dave Gates), "Yeah, I'd love a glass of ginger ale." I NEVER have ginger ale, in fact, I never have anything to drink in the house except red wine, seltzer, Gatorade and beer. But the Gatorade and beer are BMG's beverages and I don't want to use them. So then I start to stammer and wonder how I can sneak out of the house to buy soda for my guests who don't drink and adult beverages for the friends who do. When I look up and see a rack of soda and boxes and boxes of Drakes cakes that have miraculously appeared. The Drakes cakes have weird names like "Zips" and "Twitter" which is how I know BMG, the Twitter Consultant, has saved my hide.
Not a very dreamy party, but nevertheless the high school party of my dreams. I'm pretty sure the impetus was my older sister's picnic with Facebook friends from high school in Marcellus Park yesterday. What is all the panic about? Is there a part of me who thinks I'm so unprepared to actually live my life in the present? How could I understand having BMG save me? Is he better at being present in the here and now? Interpretations from Junior Freuds most welcome.