When a Lecture Turns to Horse Sh!t...

First the backstory. I-330 had an avid interest in a round table session at the Montreal Literary Festival. I asked her to see the program of all the lectures and found several programs/presentations that I found quite interesting. By happenstance there was an overlap of one that I was interested in and the one she was primarily interested in. Seemed like a perfect outing for a nice Saturday late moring/early afternoon.

So, off we ventured this morning to the venue...

I won't comment on her experience with her session, except to say that she told me she found it quite enjoyable. However I would like to put forward my experience.

I went to see a lecture about the impact of Charles Darwin on the West. http://bluemetropolis.org/Festival Here's the description of the lecture below, from their website:

"This year marks the 200th anniversary of Charles Darwin’s birth, and the 150th anniversary of the publication of The Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection. Tijs Goldschmidt, a Dutch writer and an evolutionary biologist will present a public lecture celebrating the impact and legacy of Charles Darwin on western thought and culture."

You would think the topic is about Charles Darwin? No? Well if you didn't think it would have anything to do with Darwin, you would be entirely correct. I was hoping to hear insightful opinions into how Darwin's work has had; or perhaps some interesting tidbits of how he approached his work. Perhaps some insight into the reception from political and religious groups at the time, and over time. Instead, what did I hear about?

Icelandic pony turd practices. Really.

There was a context for this 'shit' however. The lecturer veered away instantly from anything relating to the description of the session. Tijs Goldschmidt said he was tired of talking about his published work for which he is better known. Instead we were to be treated to his views of iconoclasm. Well, if the description of the lecture was this then I would have thought about it differently and might have selected something that was closer to my interests. In fact there was. I was also extremely intrigued by a symposium entitled 'Becoming a Writer' that I was also quite interested in. Although, it could have turned out to be about cultivating Chia Pets for all I know.

Anyhow, the apparent connection between the scatalogical practices of Icelandic ponies and iconoclasm is that the dominant stallion pony will deposit his droppings on top of a lesser ranked one. This evidently speaks to the practice of painting over another artist's work. To his credit, the presenter did draw some thought provoking inferences that had merit. However, it's not that much of a stretch to understand about how male dominance practices play out in an animal population, and how inferences and parallels can be drawn to acts of iconoclasm.

He was an engaging and entertaining speaker who held the audience's attention with little effort. He spoke with aplomb. His closing that related to a sculpture on Oscar Wilde's grave was quite entertaining and left everything on a light note.

Interestingly enough it appeared that the majority of the 100 or so that comprised the audience had probably been on the Beagle themselves. The scent f mothballs was palatable. It was immediately evident that the ones near me in line were quite rude. Butting in front of people with a very defined air of unconcern. This same group continued to whisper amongst themselves during the presentation, but only after chastising the organiser that they could not see the screen for the slide component of the presentation. They actually made the speaker ask the AV tech to move the podium to the floor from the stage so they could see the screen.

Jesus Christ, were they there to see 6 slides or to listen to a scholar who had travelled here speak? Evidently, with age does not come grace or respect.

Anyway, it's what happened after this that is occupying my thoughts. I managed to really anger I-330 through my mulish stubborness and lack of tact. This is difficult for me to face.

The subject was a silly, small thing relating to what I'd said about the timelines of our presentations. I think that when I was calculating when we would each finish our sessions I was looking at the wrong times, below instead of above them in the schedule. Anyhow, I'd apparently said one thing, and thought another and I'd crossed the wires in my head. The net result was that she was expecting me to finish rather a bit later. This wasn't the case. I was already agitated from this mystery session, and listening to the guy sat next to me ranting about his stupid flash for his camera for 20 minutes. When she expressed her surprise that I'd finished early I became defensive of my time calculation skills and was gruff and analytical, thereby making her angry. I was also a tad obtuse. I didn't help matters by then reacting to her anger with detachment; matters were certainly not improved by becoming minimally communicative.

I was a jackass and perhaps a bit of an Icelandic pony to boot...

What I wanted to do, and was thinking of doing as she walked over was to give her a hug and ask her how it went for her. Instead I didn't think and wound up making a mess. She is an inspiring, engaging and truly interesting person. Sometimes I forget that the way I approach things in an analytical fashion isn't terribly attractive.

I've been conscious of this in the past and know that I need to couch my analytical self in more approachable terms. It's not that I try to make her angry it's just that sometimes I don't think.

This post will end here, but will be continued.