Archive for the ‘The BlogHer’ Category

My first year at BlogHer was filled with fear. I knew almost no one before the conference and my agenda was full of goals to meet people whose blogs I read and to learn more about blogging. I attended panels during almost every time slot and I learned a bit about writing. Most importantly, I met friends who are now some of my closest and I wouldn’t trade that experience for the world.

My second year was less scary. I had friends there with me, I still had a list of people I really wanted to meet and I dropped some of my inhibitions about meeting them. I didn’t attend a single panel while there, but I flew back home with memories and without regrets.

This year was a little different.

I didn’t go with an agenda, I just packed my bags and started driving with some of my dearest friends beside and a few miles ahead of me. The only daytime conference event I attended was the Birds of a Feather PatientBlogger session that I was semi in charge of. And it was one of the best hours of my weekend. I want to give it the time it deserves here, so for now, I’ll just tell you that it was wonderful. Those who attended were equally wonderful.

And most of all, that session helped open my eyes.

I don’t have a “brand.” I don’t have dreams of fame or riches. I am not a professional blogger and I don’t strive to be one. Please understand that this isn’t because I think that there’s anything wrong with being either of those things (I don’t), it’s because that’s just not me. I write because I want to share my stories, some serious, some funny. I write to remind others who are experiencing chronic pain that they are not alone and to talk about what it’s like to be on this road. I write because it’s something that brings me happiness, peace and often, support.

I’m not an expert in social media, I don’t have connections with companies. I don’t turn down offers from companies if I think they fit with what I’m doing and can help or appeal to those who read here, but I don’t go out in search of lucrative deals. When asked what I blog about, I say health, sometimes I say whining. I know I’m not everyone’s cup of tea.

And you know what? I’m totally okay with that. In fact, I’m happy with that. Most of all, I am comfortable in my own skin for the first time in most of my life because I finally understand who I am, and I like that person.

I’m not fancy, I don’t apply make up correctly, I can do my hair in exactly two styles (ponytail and down), I own no trendy clothes or high quality beauty supplies. My writing is sometimes silly, often full of typos, sometimes is boring, but it’s always real. For a long time I’ve thought that these were all bad things. I thought that there was something wrong with me, wrong with my writing, with this site. But I realize now that I’m just me. I’m a simple person, and that’s not a bad thing.

I don’t want to change who I am anymore. I want to thrive within the confines of who I already am, instead of trying to be someone I’m not.

And I have BlogHer to thank for that.

So, BlogHer. New York.

I should probably start off this recap by telling you that I attended exactly zero panels at the conference, so what I learned at BlogHer was a bit less academic, if blogging can really be called that at all. The complete lack of attendance was brought to you by the change in time zones, overnight flights and my need to sleep. Plus, friends who peer pressured me into doing things like going to New York deli/bakeries and um, sitting in their hotel room.

Thankfully I’m a student so my ticket was cheap. Next year I will probably try harder. Maybe.

What I did do in New York, at BlogHer, was absolutely awesome. I know that all 2000+ of the attendees will have walked away with something different and many will not be as pleased as I was, as I am, with this weekend. But this is just my version, a small sliver of what I walked away from this weekend with.

In New York I made new friends, I saw and bonded with old ones.

I met people I’ve long admired, I came to admire many others.

I went to parties where I laughed more than I have all year.

I hugged friends and quietly cried when I left them.

I remembered how important this community of women (and a few men) really is to me.

I was re-invigorated in my writing, I was inspired to push myself to write more. More truthfully, more honestly, more freely, with more humor and more tears.

I was reminded of some of the ugliness of blogging and I was awakened to more of the beauty too.

I danced on a bed with some of my dearest friends in real life.

I gave a foot massage to another.

I had a conversation with someone I’ve never met that I can honestly say may have changed a big part of my life.

I met a Canadian who brought me maple syrup from her homeland. And said aboot.

I got blisters walking to a dinner at an awesome restaurant with a really fantastic group of writers, friends.

I got spit up and coffee on my pants, courtesy of one of my favorite kids. And then I got new pants because I’d only packed the one pair.

I had an opportunity presented to me, one that I can’t even share with you yet.

With the exception of accidentally blurting out (to her face) that the last time I’d met a pretty awesome blogger was when she was drunk at BlogHer last year and making a terrible (apology worthy) first impression with another, I have no regrets this weekend. Except that I didn’t get to meet everyone. That I couldn’t take more of it in. That it had to end.

I guess I do have regrets, but they’re the best kind.

There are more stories yet to be told. More silliness and seriousness unshared. I’m still taking it all in, still savoring these memories like the rare beauty that they are. Parcelling them out because I want to cling to them just a little bit longer. I hope you’ll be patient with me as I let you into this past weekend. These memories and lessons that I learned. The love I felt and shared.

And moments like this one, which need no explanation at all.

Okay, I already did a BlogHer post, and I know that, but now I have to put up some sort of special post because, theoretically, new people will be finding their way here via my “business” cards in the next few days. And considering that last year I stayed in an apartment all by myself and didn’t manage to blog once, pretending that I’m going to have time this year is laughable at best.

First, I don’t get into New York until Friday morning assuming all goes right, so if you think you saw me today or Thursday, you might be drinking too heavily. And if I look tired on Friday it’s because my flight left at 10pm Thursday from California and got me to Philadelphia at 6am Friday (Pennsylvania time), which was, you know 3 in the morning my time. And then I had a connecting flight to get to NYC. So uh, I may be a little bit exhausted. Maybe.

I have RSVP’d for just about every non-invite only party, so if you’re at the Voices of the Year Kirtsy Gala (where my piece is going to be featured!), Aiming Low party, Sparklecorn, Cheeseburgher and any other parties I might be missing, well, look for me. I’ll be the one holding a drink that looks like alcohol, but is probably actually either club soda or diet coke.

I am not pregnant. I just don’t drink much. Yes, you can probably have my drink tickets if you ask me politely and early.

I am staying in a room with La Primera, The Last Girl Standing and Daisy, JD. One time when I was staying at my father-in-law’s house, I woke up naked in the laundry room. So if you find me naked in the hallway, please return me to their room.

I have a blister on my heel. And that will be my excuse for wearing flip flops 90% of the time I’m there. See also, coordination issues in tall shoes.

I am bringing pretzel m&ms with me. But I’m only sharing if you’re really, really nice.

My business cards are hard to read, so if you get something that is bright! pink! it’s probably from me. Sorry about that.

Yes, you can totally look at my scar (you might be surprised at how many people ask me), but please, for the love of all that is sacred, do not touch it. Not that I think a lot of people want to, but it totally icks me out. I got my hair cut tonight and I had to fight myself to not slap the crap out of my hairdresser when she combed over it. Also, for the love of God, don’t hit me in the back of the head. I really have zero desire to go to the hospital in New York.

I’m trying not to have to check my suitcase. If my clothes look suspiciously like they were jammed tightly into a suitcase, it’s because they were. You know, to make room for the m&ms.

Since there aren’t that many pictures of my face on the internet and I can’t walk around backwards all day, I’ll have a little picture of my twitter avatar in my nametag. That also assures that you’ll spend MORE time looking at my boobs. Which is a win for both of us, really.

More than anything else, I’m just really excited for this trip, for a weekend with old and new friends. For a little break from real life. For another opportunity to feel connected to this amazing group of women (and men).

First of all, you may notice a slightly new look to the blog. And if you came by last night or earlier today (and use a monitor like mine) you hopefully got a good laugh out of the Overflowing Bra header, I know I did. I almost miss it now. Anyways, there are a few more little changes left to take place, but overall, I’m really excited and really grateful for all the work Jenna has done. If you notice anything that’s not working or isn’t user friendly, let me know and I’ll fix it let Jenna know and she’ll fix it.

But, that’s not really what I’m going to write about.

One month from today, thousands of bloggers from all over the country and even, perhaps, the world, will be convening in New York for 2ish days of complete madness, alcohol, swag and no sleep. And since about half the internet has posted their BlogHer must do/see lists, and I love me a good bandwagon, I’m hopping on it. If you’re not going to BlogHer, I promise to make it entertaining anyways.

1. There is no swag in the world worth hitting a baby for. And while I have no idea who did that last year, let’s just make this a life rule- DON’T HIT BABIES. Period. Ever. Especially not for a vibrator. I mean really, I can’t believe this has to be said.

1a. Did you know that swag stands for stuff/shit we all get? I had no idea. File that under things I learned at BlogHer last year.

2. Bring business cards. If you don’t have them, make some or order some. I highly HIGHLY recommend moo cards. They’re easy to create and not too pricey. If you can’t manage the cost (because dude, BlogHer is crazy expensive) print your own or even hand write some. You’re going to come across hundreds of people and most of them will want to know more about you and having business cards with your blog, email and twitter stuff on them is a great way to do it.

2a. Be creative with your cards, but don’t be all TMI. I’m just going to leave it there.

3. Leave yourself room in your suitcase for the way home. You’re going to get swag, don’t hesitate to weed through it before you leave, but you’ll need space for it. Last year I packed my small suitcase inside my larger one and on the way home I checked both. Granted, it didn’t cost me anything to check luggage because my airline wasn’t trying to rob me of every last dime I have like the one this year, but, yea. If you’re unwilling or unable to check 2 bags, just leave yourself room to pack goodies.

4. If they hand out chocolate in the swag it will probably be gross. So you can just give it to me. I’ll take that nasty chocolate off your hands.

5. Do not skip meals. There will be alcohol, there will be some smallish rooms and if you’re not paying attention, you’re gonna give yourself a good case of the omg I’m so famished I might pass out and die in this tiny room. Especially if you’ve already given me all of your chocolate. Then you’d be a real predicament.

6. RSVP for everything. You may not make it to everything, but you won’t get into anything if you don’t RSVP.

7. Be outgoing, but don’t be crazy. And if someone tells you that they’re not MckMama, they’re not. Don’t keep asking them. I really wanted to meet a certain blogger last year, but I chickened out and I regretted it for a while. I’ve since met her and she’s entirely lovely. Just FYI.

7a. Not everyone is as lovely and fluffy and wonderful as you want them to be or as nice they sound on their blog. They’re all humans like you and many of them profoundly lack social skills or like me, are SUPER awkward in new situations. But if they’re treating you crappily, walk away. There’s no reason to keep trying and there are just WAY too many people there who are lovely and fluffy and wonderful (I’m not sure what I mean by fluffy, but whatever) to spend your time trying to convert the assholes.

8. Bring a variety of clothes and shoes. I wore skirts and t-shirts to the panels during the day and dresses and jeans/tank tops to the parties at night. But be yourself. If you hate dresses, don’t bring a dress. You’re going to be miserable in it and then you’re one of the previously mentioned non-fluffy assholes. Don’t be one of those. Also pack layers because some of the rooms last year were so cold they nearly froze my fingers off and others were so stuffy I nearly had to step out.

9. Do not, I repeat, do not miss the community keynote on Friday night. It is one of my very favorite things about BlogHer. It’s where you’ll get to hear (and apparently this year, see) some of the best and funniest writing you’ve had the privilege of hearing in a while. Frankly, you can pretty safely miss the other keynotes (I did last year), but don’t miss the community keynote. And bring tissue. Ohdeargod bring tissue.

10. Please, please, please introduce yourself to me. If you’re reading this and you’re going to BlogHer, please find me. I am really friendly, really really awkward, but really friendly and I want to meet people, that’s a HUGE part of why I’m going.

10a. My name is Katie, but I’ve decided I’ll respond to Overflowing Bra too. I’m a big fan of irony like that.

11. Have a freaking good time. If you’re going, it means you paid for tickets, for airfare, for hotels and for other crap too. And that’s entirely too much money to not have a good time. Get away for a little while, take naps if you need to, but make this experience the best it can be for you. Don’t worry about what other people are doing or saying or thinking, don’t be a shit starter (no one likes those people), and just have some fun.

I know, I know.  You’re tired of BlogHer talk.  One more, I promise.  Then back to the whining, which I know you all love and have missed.

On the Wednesday before BlogHer, I got an email from the people at BlogHer asking if I would be interested in a special panel.  It was going to be “small” and was therefore by invitation only, and by the way, it was with the Senior Advisor to the President, Valerie Jarrett.  The topic was to be healthcare, and I jumped at the offer, if only because I was completely certain that at any moment they’d realize what a horrible mistake they’d made and that they’d rescind my invitation.  Oddly, they didn’t.

I didn’t know if I was allowed to tell people about the panel, since it was invite only, but I mentioned it on the snafu limo and let me tell you, those ladies know how to make you even more nervous about an event that your stomach already flips at the thought of.

But Friday at 1:15, I walked nervously into a conference room with 16 other women, grabbed a plate of lunch that I ate almost none of (and later, while listening intently, I licked pasta sauce off my fingers while Valerie was talking, and then tweeted about it, and not one, but two people thought I had licked it off of her fingers, which, in retrospect, would’ve been such a great blog moment.) and sat down to listen.

Valerie asked us each to introduce ourselves, tell her about our blogs and lives and why we were there.  She shook our hands, listened to our stories and then we got down to business.  (There’s a full recap here, if you want to read all of it.)  She spoke for a few minutes on the state of things and then opened up for questions.

I won’t bore you with every detail, partially because I have such an overwhelmingly conservative readership (how did that happen by the way?), and partially because I think the most important ideas were a common thread in each of the questions.  And I think that everyone should hear about this.  Yes, even you, the staunch Republican reading over there.  I’m serious.

Valerie Jarrett is not working just for Democrats.  Valerie Jarrett, whether you believe me or not, is working for Americans.  She answered difficult questions from women who were fired up and motivated and she let us know that WE were important, that YOU are important.

Loralee, one of the bloggers, told Valerie about how her livelihood was lost to health costs not covered by her health insurance.  And she cried, and Valerie did not just listen, but she empathized and consoled Loralee.  And when Loralee told Valerie that her husband, a Utah Republican, didn’t think that the Obama administration could or would do anything useful for them, Valerie did something surprising.  She handed Loralee (and later Casey) her business card, and told Loralee to have her husband call her on Monday, and they would talk.

Valerie Jarrett was not put off by the fact that Loralee’s husband was a conservative who believed that this suggested health care reform was socialism (it’s not, I know many of you don’t believe me, but truly, if you understand socialized medicine you’d know that this is not it, but that’s neither here nor there), she cared that it impacted a family and wanted to see what she could do to help them.  She wanted to hear their concerns and work to alleviate them, to prevent other women from sharing in Loralee and Casey’s woes.  She showed how the Obama administration cares, on a VERY personal level, about all of us.  Even you, the staunch Republican in the corner.

And she left us with very important suggestions.  If you have ideas, concerns, thoughts or anything else in that category, you must make them known.  You can stand aside and bitch (okay, maybe she didn’t say that exactly) about something, but that will not get any of us anywhere.  There is just no way that your needs and concerns can be represented if you do not make them known.  Not even the president is a mind reader.

So what do you do?  How can you be a part of this?

Write a blog post about it, leave a comment on this post.  Write a letter or email to your congressman, senator, or anyone who represents you.  Tell your story, ask your questions, make your concerns known.

Change isn’t a 4 letter word.  It’s not a bad thing.  It’s necessary.  People shouldn’t lose their homes and savings because they can’t afford health insurance.  Children shouldn’t go without healthcare because their parents don’t have the money to pay for it nor the information about how to acquire it.  I don’t care if you think the President is in kahootz with the devil himself, there is no way you can think that the healthcare system isn’t profoundly broken.  It NEEDS reform, but the way that will take shape depends on you and me.

If you want to make your concerns known, or want to know more about it, check out what Erin at Queen of Spain wrote about the experience (she was there and asked my very favorite question of the panel).  And get involved.  You have no excuse, because healthcare impacts every single one of us, in one way or another.

Help make the future yours.  Help this administration serve you, republican or democrat, doctor or patient.  Don’t be a part of the problem, be a part of the solution.

(Hi, if you got here from a business card, that’s because I’m an idiot and bought my own domain 5 days before BlogHer and with 250 business cards in tow.  Bookmark this bad boy, or grab the feed, the old site is, well, old.)

I’m going to try and get through much of the blogher stuff in this post as I can so that those of you who don’t care don’t have to keep reading about it.  But it’s likely going to take at least one more post after this, but that one is a different kind of story and it needs to be shared.  I’ll give you a hint, I got to meet with the Senior Advisor to the president and it was kickassery.

I flew in Thursday on the Party Plane, which had around 20 bloggers on it and was sheer awesomeness.  Southwest was AMAZING, and hilarity ensued.  Less funny was the limo snafu where two stretch limos ended up being only one stretch limo and we managed to fit 20 people into it.  I spent about two thirds of the trip on Meghan’s lap, but because she’s pretty much the nicest person ever, she didn’t tell anyone that I outrageously violated her personal space.  That I know of.

That night I went with “DJ” to the People’s Party and then the Room 704 party.  The former was insanely crowded, but in the midst of it, I got to meet Casey (and only had a briefly huge moment of OMG she knows who I am, and dude, she just hugged me.  She maybe even meant to, or maybe that was just me roping her into a totally uncomfortable moment.  Whatever.  It happened.) and several other lovely people who I should probably still remember.

Friday was an early morning panel on TMI, a play date with Valerie Jarrett, and then by far my favorite panel of the weekend.  It was on being a “patient blogger” and writing about health issues.  I had another small losing-my-shit moment when Mr. Lady, who was moderating, said she knew who I was (and then I tweeted about it, because it’s better to make your internal dorkiness known to the world…)  The discussion and it’s amazing panel members reminded me of why I began blogging in the first place and of what I wanted for this space.  Then more parties, one with a chocolate fountain, one with unicorn cake and whiskey.

Saturday I accompanied a new hilarious friend to the “Married with Children” fountain (sometimes known as the Buckingham fountain), so that she could get us all arrested conquer an item on her bucket list (a poorly explained reason that prompted my husband to ask me if she was dying.  (She’s not.)).  I’ll let her tell you about it, but revel in my pictures when she posts them.  As it turns out, given a decent camera set on autofocus, I’m not a horrible photographer.

Later I went to a humor blogging session where I laughed so hard I nearly passed out (also? Satan likes his rooms cooler than that one) and learned much about being funny.  As I’m sure you can tell.

I then went home, changed and found myself invited to a super secret pizza party which…wait, I don’t think I’m allowed to tell you about.  But whatever you do, don’t look up the hashtag supersecretpizzaparty on twitter.  Seriously.  Don’t.

From there I went with Heather, Mike, Meghan, Maya, Emmie and Megan to bowlher, (affectionately known as blowher), where I wowed everyone with my mad bowling skills.  Dude, 72 is a totally respectable score.  Shut up.  And from there, we went to the Cheeseburgher party, where I got to meet The Bloggess, Crystal, and Amalah, among others.

Frankly, I could go on and on and name drop more people who don’t remember me, but I’d rather take just a moment to say a few other things.  There were 1400 women in one hotel.  There was enough estrogen floating in the atmosphere to kill a fleet of elephants and of course, with the estrogen, came the drama.  It is what it is.  We’ll never all get along, but the internet is a big place.  Who says we need to?

There’s also quite a bit of backlash from people who, in my opinion, are taking shit way too seriously.  This was a blogging convention.  Not a save the world convention.  Yes, the sponsors were a little excessive.  Yes, the swag whores were whorish.  But, dude, who cares that more people went to a panel about popular culture than one about travel blogging?  Who cares that someone is labeling you a mommy blogger?  (And do you blog about your kids and mothering them?  Then I just don’t know how that label ever possibly became associated with your blog…).

In the end, it was good, mostly clean, not at all sober, fun.  I had an even better time than I imagined, and shhhh, don’t tell my husband (and don’t tell my mom, she’ll just tell everyone she knows), but I already have my ticket for next year.

Hi, yes, I’m that girl.  The one who ordered 250 business cards and then 5 days before she was due to hand them out thought, do you know what would be super?  Changing my blog address.  And it is.  So, hopefully you’ve been redirected, feel free to chuck the old site and, you know, bookmark and stalk me here.  I know you want to.  Everyone does.  I’m kind of a big deal.

Anyways, I’m not exactly sure how to go about writing about BlogHer and it’s probably stupid to try since it’s not even completely over, but I thought that since this is going to be a 30 billion blog entry journey, I should get to it.

Things I learned at BlogHer:

1.  If you’re driving to LAX from not near LAX, leave really early.  And if you see a U-haul in front of you that is smoking profusely, don’t give it a wide birth if you can go around it.  Because you just might give it enough distance that when it bursts into flames on the 10 freeway, the fire department is going to shut down the 10 freeway 10 feet in front of you.

2.  Take pictures if a U-haul catches on fire in front of you.  Or everyone will think you’re lying.

3.  Even if you’re running a little late, if you have more than an hour before your flight, no matter how stressed you are, don’t park in the short term parking.  I’m about 99 percent sure I’m going to have to pledge my first born child to LAX tomorrow.  Which is unfortunate, because I was so hoping that the first one would be mine.  The second and third?  Eh.

4.  Never ever assume that the person sitting next to you on a plane, or limo, or even in line in the bathroom, has the same size blog as you.  Because 10 minutes later, when they’re name registers in your brain, you’re going to feel stupid for having a conversation about how you don’t know anyone and isn’t that awkward?  With someone who practically owns the internet.

5.  If someone asks you to watch their bags at the airport (um, and you know them and they’re not a terrorist), you should actually watch the limo driver put the bag in the car.  Otherwise, you might feel like the world’s biggest douche when someone calls the person whose bags you were watching to let them know that the bag was left at the airport because the limo was full and apparently it didn’t seem important to the limo driver to try and rectify that space issue.  Or you know, let us know ahead of time.

6.  20 adults were not meant to fit into 1 stretch limo.  And having a pole up your ass is not nearly as funny as it sounds as a figure of speech.

(More tomorrow.  Now, I need to shower.  Because I also learned that smelling like crap is not a good way to make friends.)

Tomorrow morning I’m leaving on a jet plane.  And not just any jet plane…the party plane.

The party plane is a Southwest Air flight with about 20 bloghers on it.  In my head, I imagine it’ll be a lot like a big sleepover.  Only on a plane.  And with alcohol.  The party plane will land in Chicago and be met by not one, but two stretch limos (whatever is worth doing is worth doing RIGHT) to drive to the hotel.

And once there, I have 3 days full of things to do.  Including meeting 1399 women and learning a thing or two.  I even got a super-amazing bit of news today (which I can’t share yet because a) I’m afraid I’ll jinx it and b) I’m not 100% sure I can tell you) in regards to an event within the event, and well, it’s awesome.

As these 3 full days come upon me, my stress has risen.  And now it hath overflowed.  Onto my face.  First it was the most horrible acne outbreak of pretty much my whole life.  The zit on my chin is going to enter every room 5-10 full minutes before I cross the threshold.  DUDE.

And, wait for it, tonight, I realized that my eye was itching.  And when I went to rub it, I felt it.  The tell tale sore, swollen, warm lump.  A stye.  A stye in my eye.

If you’re going to blogher, or if you’re at LAX tomorrow, I’ll be the girl with the leprosy and lumpy eye.  Pleased to meet you.

(I should gleefully add here that the stye is not noticeable anymore, which is possibly my one and only BlogHer miracle.  It was almost immediately counteracted by a U-haul on fire.  More on that another time.)

Consider this the beginning of the BlogHer posts that will probably entertain some and bore the hell out of others.  This one is coming to you at 5:57 in the morning, though I’ve been awake for nearly an hour now.

You see, I’ve been nervous about aspects of BlogHer.  Primarily the making friends aspects.  But I was trying to let not think about a lot of it (denial?  I has it) and was pretty successful.  And then I went to lie down for bed last night and BAM suddenly the anxiety came out of no where, my blood pressure rose to astronomical heights and sleep was an impossibility.

Eventually I did get to sleep, but when the cats had a rumble at 5 this morning on the bed, I was back in the same panic filled hell.  And I know, it’s a conference, it’s women and it’ll be fine.  But it’s a conference.  With a shit-ton of women I don’t know and what if it’s not?  I have visions of myself having lunches alone and of not having anyone to talk to at parties.  I worry that I will be horribly awkward, or, not awkward enough.

I’m still incredibly excited and I remember sitting at home reading all the BlogHer posts from a year ago, painfully jealous.  I have lived this conference vicariously, and now I want to live it myself.  So I’m making a few promises for myself.  I will join conversations, even when I feel too young/unimportant/whatever superlative I’ve chosen for that moment.  I will be cool when I meet people I’ve long wanted to meet (unlike last night when I saw Joan Rivers walking around and yelled, “HEY, THERE’S JOAN RIVERS.”  Cool as ice, this girl).  I will not feel put out when people don’t remember me and I will work to make myself memorable.  I will participate in as much as I can and I will stop all the worrying.  (Okay, I’ll stop some of it.  I can’t even make myself that kind of promise).

And maybe, just maybe, I’ll have some fun.  Or something.

As BlogHer draws near, the topic of blogging and bloggers is perpetually on my mind.

I have a small blog (and I love it, just for the record) but many of the blogs I read are not small. They are ginormous. Like the size of things my mom has heard of (she who does not read blogs (that’s her Native American name)). These bloggers are like the popular seniors in school with the fancy cars and boys/girls fawning over them for attention. And I am but a mere freshman.

I had the luxury of meeting some really wonderful Los Angeles bloggers a few weeks back, and what surprised me the most was that some of them actually knew my blog (or at least graciously pretended to, and that has to count for something, right?). One direct messaged me on twitter afterwards to let me know that he just realized that he also had read here before and didn’t make the connection at the time.

And all this went to show me that I am totally not an upperclassman in the high school of blogging. Because every time someone indicated that they had some idea of who I was, I secretly freaked out. Even when someone commented that she expected me to be “edgier” in real life (which I found hilarious, by the way), I more than taken aback that she even knew who I was than that she had any expectation of me.

Every time a “big” blogger (that is, size of readership, not physical stature, of course) comments or twitters to me, I nearly pee my pants, (and then immediately email Daisy, if she didn’t email me to tell me in the first place) because I’m a huge dork. I’m that freshman who plays the french horn in the marching band of Blogging High School. Or maybe more like the 8th grader who takes only math classes at the high school and has no social skills. No matter how you slice it, I’m one heaping pile of dorkiness. And social awkwardness.

More and more the idea of going to a conference with these women (and men), scares the bejesus out of me. Not because I think poorly of myself or worry about not making friends, but because of how I react in such situations. If I’m star struck by someone else’s words in the comment section of my blog, what the hell am I going to do when I’m (theoretically) face to face with them in Chicago?

If I had to guess, I’d say most likely I’ll run and hide. Or burst into tears. Or hurl.

I can promise you, with almost 100% certainty, that I will not be cool. I probably won’t even be intelligible the vast majority of the time.

But then again, if you’re a regular reader, you probably wouldn’t expect anything more.

(Anyone here going to BlogHer? Would you like to be my friend? PLEASE?)