RSS Feed (xml)I'm over at BlogHer talking about a day in my jungle life. Please excuse the crappy job I've done of linking, formatting's gone a bit wonky here. Again.
Showing posts with label Blogher. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Blogher. Show all posts
hot off the presses
I'm over here today talking about (wait for it!) our move.
If you aren't sick of me yet come over and say hello.
almost famous
I'm so happy to share that I've been invited to blog about our move to the jungle at BlogHer over the coming months. I've been asked to write six posts and the first is up today. While some of you already know the story, I'd love it if you'd stop by and let me know you were there. You can find it here: How we decided to move to the jungle.
Also, we are collecting posts for our upcoming (and the final hurrah for Mad, Su and I) Just Post Roundtable on Monday, January 12th (postponed due to the weekend). We can't have a proper send off without all of you, so please send me your posts for the month of December to girlplustwo(at)yahooDOTcom before the 8th. We have a goodbye favor to ask of you as well, stay tuned for my next post.
Happy New Year, All. Let's make it our best year yet.
Also, we are collecting posts for our upcoming (and the final hurrah for Mad, Su and I) Just Post Roundtable on Monday, January 12th (postponed due to the weekend). We can't have a proper send off without all of you, so please send me your posts for the month of December to girlplustwo(at)yahooDOTcom before the 8th. We have a goodbye favor to ask of you as well, stay tuned for my next post.
Happy New Year, All. Let's make it our best year yet.
we are all mythical hobbits
Some things take longer to die down than perhaps they should. Statements were misunderstood. People want to clear the air and move forward. It's human nature, seeking closure. Or maybe it's only dramatic if we make it so. But it persists, which says it must be about something deeper entirely, about the still undefined role of this place and the power it wields.
I've heard a number of people say post BlogHer this year that they aren't sure if they'll keep writing. That the conference caused them to rethink what they are doing and what they want to say. The energy around all of this has been very powerful and we've all got our own ways of handling the various emotions the conference stirred up.
Whether intentional or not, whether widely read or not, we have online personas, some quite akin to our real selves and others perhaps glimmery manifestations, but no matter how funny or serious or sad or angry or snarky or polite or well read or whatever, we have chosen to put our efforts into words that we then choose to share in the most public of all forums. We choose to do this and in the choosing we open ourselves up.
And if we allow for it, it can be incredibly meaningful. But that doesn't mean it doesn't come without responsibility. But to who? The writer? The reader? To thine own self be true? Is that enough? Or is that purely an american anthem about individuality and self-propulsion? I happen to think it's much more than that. I think we are all responsible and our responsibility is in making ourselves understood. Not necessarily liked all of the time, but at least understood.
We've got incredible power in this place. But it only works if we use it to turn the lights up. It only works if we can truly allow for give and take. But it's a choice, embracing this expansion, allowing for dialogue, widening the net. Allowing for compassion and for mercy. For depth. And then moving on.
Because if we aren't trying to be our best selves then what's this all for?
I've heard a number of people say post BlogHer this year that they aren't sure if they'll keep writing. That the conference caused them to rethink what they are doing and what they want to say. The energy around all of this has been very powerful and we've all got our own ways of handling the various emotions the conference stirred up.
Whether intentional or not, whether widely read or not, we have online personas, some quite akin to our real selves and others perhaps glimmery manifestations, but no matter how funny or serious or sad or angry or snarky or polite or well read or whatever, we have chosen to put our efforts into words that we then choose to share in the most public of all forums. We choose to do this and in the choosing we open ourselves up.
And if we allow for it, it can be incredibly meaningful. But that doesn't mean it doesn't come without responsibility. But to who? The writer? The reader? To thine own self be true? Is that enough? Or is that purely an american anthem about individuality and self-propulsion? I happen to think it's much more than that. I think we are all responsible and our responsibility is in making ourselves understood. Not necessarily liked all of the time, but at least understood.
We've got incredible power in this place. But it only works if we use it to turn the lights up. It only works if we can truly allow for give and take. But it's a choice, embracing this expansion, allowing for dialogue, widening the net. Allowing for compassion and for mercy. For depth. And then moving on.
Because if we aren't trying to be our best selves then what's this all for?
For Whom The City Lights Glow
I'm pleased to offer a guest post by the ever lovely Slouching Mom. After reading her thoughts about her BlogHer experiences it moved me enough to ask for more. She's written quite beautifully about another view from our recent weekend.
I didn’t know San Francisco would be so cold a place. And I don’t mean the kind of cold you can combat by pulling on a sweater.
I stepped out of the taxi onto a crowded sidewalk in front of the swank hotel that had promised me a Heavenly Bed. (Later that day I’d discover that the bed in my room WAS heavenly. I don’t know what the management has done to achieve beds like that. I wanted to take it home with me.)
The sidewalk was jammed with people, people coming, people going, people sightseeing. And with someone who was neither coming nor going, who was most definitely not taking in the sights. He was sleeping. Or perhaps just closing his eyes against his own reality. His arms and legs were curled protectively around his chest. For warmth, for privacy, maybe for both. He was pressed as close to the wall of the hotel as he could get, but still, people were stepping over him.
Stepping over him.
I thought, How could people be so oblivious to their surroundings that they could walk over another human being? Without even hesitating? What does that say about how they overvalue their own lives and preoccupations? Because, don’t you know, they have places to go. And he so obviously doesn’t. No, from the looks of him, it’s been a long time since he had somewhere to go. A long time since he slept in anything resembling a Heavenly Bed.
You’ll think I’m naïve. But I’m not. I grew up in New York City in the seventies. Those were some of the worst years for the Big Apple’s homeless. Since then, New York has handled the problem of its homeless with clumsy but well-meaning hands. Things aren’t perfect there. Yet they are better, by a long shot, than they were when I was a kid.
Why can’t the same be said of San Francisco?
I wasn’t sure until the second day of the conference whether what I had witnessed at the entrance to the hotel was just an isolated event, however distressing.
That’s when I went to dinner a few blocks from the hotel.
And found that – if you looked – there were lots of people sleeping on sidewalks. Or sometimes, sitting up or standing. As human beings, even the homeless, will do.
One man was rather jovially trying to assist all the lost tourists. Your hotel?, he’d shout. The hotels are over there! And he’d point left where a group of befuddled tourists had just decided to try right.
He was not misleading anyone. He knew these streets.
But instead of thank you’s he received withering, or fearful, or angry stares from people so far out of their comfort zones they might as well have been on the moon. That group of tourists? They went right. Idiots, I thought. Was I being uncharitable? You decide.
I thanked him on their behalf. I figured someone ought to acknowledge him.
No problem, darlin’, he replied. I like to get people where they need to go. Used to be a bus driver, y’know.
I wanted to stop right there and stay awhile. Find out why he wasn’t still a bus driver. I was sure that he’d been an excellent driver. Why had he ended up here, there, everywhere, nowhere?
But I couldn’t stop. I had somewhere to be, you see.
Later that evening, as I lay in my Heavenly Bed, it was not the doings at the conference that kept me awake.
It was the man who used to be a bus driver, who for all I knew had slept in a Heavenly Bed himself, in a life so far removed from his life of today that it might as well have been another life altogether.
Who sixteen stories below me was surely tossing and turning as well, trying to find the elusive sweet spot, the spot where the concrete didn’t rub painfully against his limbs, his back, his head.
I finally fell asleep, high above him, the lights of San Francisco twinkling, beckoning me through the sheer curtains on the windows in my hotel room.
But those beautiful city lights? The tragedy is that they beckon only some of us. For the rest of us, they’re just one more hindrance to falling asleep.
I didn’t know San Francisco would be so cold a place. And I don’t mean the kind of cold you can combat by pulling on a sweater.
I stepped out of the taxi onto a crowded sidewalk in front of the swank hotel that had promised me a Heavenly Bed. (Later that day I’d discover that the bed in my room WAS heavenly. I don’t know what the management has done to achieve beds like that. I wanted to take it home with me.)
The sidewalk was jammed with people, people coming, people going, people sightseeing. And with someone who was neither coming nor going, who was most definitely not taking in the sights. He was sleeping. Or perhaps just closing his eyes against his own reality. His arms and legs were curled protectively around his chest. For warmth, for privacy, maybe for both. He was pressed as close to the wall of the hotel as he could get, but still, people were stepping over him.
Stepping over him.
I thought, How could people be so oblivious to their surroundings that they could walk over another human being? Without even hesitating? What does that say about how they overvalue their own lives and preoccupations? Because, don’t you know, they have places to go. And he so obviously doesn’t. No, from the looks of him, it’s been a long time since he had somewhere to go. A long time since he slept in anything resembling a Heavenly Bed.
You’ll think I’m naïve. But I’m not. I grew up in New York City in the seventies. Those were some of the worst years for the Big Apple’s homeless. Since then, New York has handled the problem of its homeless with clumsy but well-meaning hands. Things aren’t perfect there. Yet they are better, by a long shot, than they were when I was a kid.
Why can’t the same be said of San Francisco?
I wasn’t sure until the second day of the conference whether what I had witnessed at the entrance to the hotel was just an isolated event, however distressing.
That’s when I went to dinner a few blocks from the hotel.
And found that – if you looked – there were lots of people sleeping on sidewalks. Or sometimes, sitting up or standing. As human beings, even the homeless, will do.
One man was rather jovially trying to assist all the lost tourists. Your hotel?, he’d shout. The hotels are over there! And he’d point left where a group of befuddled tourists had just decided to try right.
He was not misleading anyone. He knew these streets.
But instead of thank you’s he received withering, or fearful, or angry stares from people so far out of their comfort zones they might as well have been on the moon. That group of tourists? They went right. Idiots, I thought. Was I being uncharitable? You decide.
I thanked him on their behalf. I figured someone ought to acknowledge him.
No problem, darlin’, he replied. I like to get people where they need to go. Used to be a bus driver, y’know.
I wanted to stop right there and stay awhile. Find out why he wasn’t still a bus driver. I was sure that he’d been an excellent driver. Why had he ended up here, there, everywhere, nowhere?
But I couldn’t stop. I had somewhere to be, you see.
Later that evening, as I lay in my Heavenly Bed, it was not the doings at the conference that kept me awake.
It was the man who used to be a bus driver, who for all I knew had slept in a Heavenly Bed himself, in a life so far removed from his life of today that it might as well have been another life altogether.
Who sixteen stories below me was surely tossing and turning as well, trying to find the elusive sweet spot, the spot where the concrete didn’t rub painfully against his limbs, his back, his head.
I finally fell asleep, high above him, the lights of San Francisco twinkling, beckoning me through the sheer curtains on the windows in my hotel room.
But those beautiful city lights? The tragedy is that they beckon only some of us. For the rest of us, they’re just one more hindrance to falling asleep.
naked blogging
If I had to sum it up I'd say we are all the same. We all have our bouts of insecurity, we all overreact, we all squeal with joy and hug strong and hard. We feel overwhelmed, we feel shy, we feel powerful and we feel courageous. BlogHer this year was all of that but in the end what has meant the most for me for two years running was seeing old friends and meeting others whose words I've read all year long. It's an extended slumber party, we stay up too late and lose our voices and popcorn gets spilled and somebody inevitably gets locked in the bathroom. Some of us even drink too much, those mojitos are stronger somehow in groups.
But the best and perhaps most sacred time this year was when Jess, Tanis and I left the conference and went to a naked bath house. We waltzed into the old Victorian and for some reason hadn't really thought through that in a few short minutes we'd actually be sitting naked in front of each other in a big tub in the middle of the day. In fact, the moment that will last with me for the rest of my life was when the woman made it clear: all your clothes come off HERE ladies and Tanis' face registered a look of fucking horror. I think I fell over laughing then but I can't quite remember. But as we sat across from each other naked inside and out in the bright light and too hot water it summed it up perfectly: At the end of the day we are all simply naked. We are women and we were naked this weekend, both in and out of our clothes. It's not always pretty and sometimes it's more beautiful than you can imagine but either way it's real. And so while the weekend was one of mixed emotions sitting here now I am so very happy I went. Meeting women I've only read and emailed with and reconnecting with women who've come to mean so much more than I'd have thought possible two years ago is part of the garden I'll plant around me this year, your words and laughter and wisdom and truth will continue to keep me company as it grows.
But the best and perhaps most sacred time this year was when Jess, Tanis and I left the conference and went to a naked bath house. We waltzed into the old Victorian and for some reason hadn't really thought through that in a few short minutes we'd actually be sitting naked in front of each other in a big tub in the middle of the day. In fact, the moment that will last with me for the rest of my life was when the woman made it clear: all your clothes come off HERE ladies and Tanis' face registered a look of fucking horror. I think I fell over laughing then but I can't quite remember. But as we sat across from each other naked inside and out in the bright light and too hot water it summed it up perfectly: At the end of the day we are all simply naked. We are women and we were naked this weekend, both in and out of our clothes. It's not always pretty and sometimes it's more beautiful than you can imagine but either way it's real. And so while the weekend was one of mixed emotions sitting here now I am so very happy I went. Meeting women I've only read and emailed with and reconnecting with women who've come to mean so much more than I'd have thought possible two years ago is part of the garden I'll plant around me this year, your words and laughter and wisdom and truth will continue to keep me company as it grows.
giving notice
We are bumping up against the start of BlogHer and The People's Party, which I have the pleasure of hosting alongside these five lovely and talented sisters. My "hosting" is a word I'll use loosely here, the real rockstar of the bunch is Megan , who has rounded up enough sponsors to make sure everyone gets free drinks. Jenny wanted to do a live feed for those of you who can't attend but want to watch and the good women at Kirtsy have decided to indulge her so if you can't be there you can watch it here. She might be naked, so take that as a warning from me to you. Or it's a potential photo op. Or better, blackmail material. You decide.
And on the less drinky but still kicky end of things, I'll be speaking about our Just Posts on Saturday at the Beautiful Blogging panel. This little soiree is moderated by Kyran Pittman from Notes To Self and will also include Krystyn Heide from the Hope Revolution, Alyssa Royse from Just Cause It! and Lucrecer Braxton, and her Art Slam initiative, all new writers to me with really amazing blogs. If you haven't yet discovered them you should go check them out, each blog is full of love and hope and art and goodness.
And on the still kicky and more thinky side I've got a new review up about educational resources and learning activities for little ones, a very cool thing for us parents with kids ages 4-8.
And on the less drinky but still kicky end of things, I'll be speaking about our Just Posts on Saturday at the Beautiful Blogging panel. This little soiree is moderated by Kyran Pittman from Notes To Self and will also include Krystyn Heide from the Hope Revolution, Alyssa Royse from Just Cause It! and Lucrecer Braxton, and her Art Slam initiative, all new writers to me with really amazing blogs. If you haven't yet discovered them you should go check them out, each blog is full of love and hope and art and goodness.
And on the still kicky and more thinky side I've got a new review up about educational resources and learning activities for little ones, a very cool thing for us parents with kids ages 4-8.
June Just Posts
Community: 1: a unified body of individuals: as a: state, commonwealth b: the people with common interests living in a particular area; broadly : the area itself
In a week a number of us from our online community will gather together at BlogHer. We will connect with old friends and meet new ones for the first time. It's a collision of worlds, BlogHer. One that pulls us out from behind our keyboards and into the light. We discover things we did not know, we are perhaps taken aback by previous assumptions, we are pushed and broadened and enriched and moved. Others in our community will stay behind and continue communing with others the way we do all year round, through emails and posts, comments and groups.
The Just Posts are another form of community, one where individuals find a crowd, where issues can join us, where pain and suffering and joy and light can open our eyes. It's a place where everyone is welcome, all we need to do is write. We all see with different colored lenses, but it's the way we allow the light to shine and bend that draws others around us. We do this with words, with images, and with heart and soul. It's an ongoing joy to be a part of all three of these connected worlds, month after month it's a priviledge to gather here and it means nothing without all of you.
Just Post Writers
Andrea at Punk Rock Mommy with Planting the seeds of my own garden
Andrea with The burden of perfection
Averagebean with Freedom of speech?
Blog Antagonist with Speak English Me
Chani with Wellness Wednesday: take back your time
Christine Kane with Making Friends with Songs and Food
Defiant Muse with The mommy myth
Flutter with I am an omnivore
Girlgriot with Gotta do more than holla and We can, I mean WE can
Hel with Afternoon in an urban footgarden
Her Bad Mother with Joy, And Pain
Identity Theory with The weapon of rape
Indigenous people's issues today with Five key indigenous people's issues
Jen with Where the streets have no name, the middle way and the shattered ceiling and what it means for our children
Julie with Kids and sex?
Kaliroz with indifference to me, is the epitome of evil
KC with Wheels
Mayberry Mom with 20 lousy pairs of scissors
MOMocrats with Moms need help in California family court system
Moosh in Indy with the healthcare of stereotypes
No Caption Needed with High Noon in Sadr City
The Expatriate's Kitchen with World Refugee Day
Toddlywinks with The powerlessness of three
Tossing Pebbles in the Stream with To laugh or be outraged
Susanne with Corsets, coolness, caps, and cosmetic surgery
Suzanne Reisman on blogher with Banning the Pill Kills Women. Period. and "Third Genders" in Societies with Rigid Gender Roles
WhyMommy with Thank you, AmVets
Just Post Readers
Janet
Moosh!
Alejna
Celeste
Don't forget to stop by Mad's and Su's before you go. We are here every month collecting posts about social justice from around the blogosphere and around the world and everyone is welcome to participate either by writing or by sending posts you've read. If you'll be at BlogHer next week you can also find me talking about the Just Posts here. Make sure to say hello (and no throwing tomatoes either).
collecting some tokens
Even though I've been blogging for two years I've only met one blogger socially outside of last year's BlogHer frenzy. While I've fallen insanely in love with my BlogHer peeps, none of them live anywhere near me so we've not seen each other since and it's probably what I'm most looking forward to this July. (Yes, I'm talking about you so you better get ready for me to climb all over you with giddy joy). So imagine my happiness when the lovely Alejna from collecting tokens fame emailed me to say she'd be in California and hey, did I want to get together?
So we had the pleasure of having Alejna and her family over for dinner and they were kind enough to drive a rather long distance to get here. We ate and laughed and talked and got to watch our daughters play and our partners connect. The evening stretched out, two women and their mates and daughters and it was sweet and lovely and grounding and good. We had the pleasure of discovering each other face to face and she is every bit as beautiful and witty and brilliant as she is on her blog. And she makes pregancy look damn good too. My only sadness is that they live on the other side of the country because I'd love to do it again next week.
And it made me all the more excited for BlogHer, to see old friends from last year and to get to have the chance to meet so many new ones. Three weeks to go and I can barely wait. Just barely. Dude.
So we had the pleasure of having Alejna and her family over for dinner and they were kind enough to drive a rather long distance to get here. We ate and laughed and talked and got to watch our daughters play and our partners connect. The evening stretched out, two women and their mates and daughters and it was sweet and lovely and grounding and good. We had the pleasure of discovering each other face to face and she is every bit as beautiful and witty and brilliant as she is on her blog. And she makes pregancy look damn good too. My only sadness is that they live on the other side of the country because I'd love to do it again next week.
And it made me all the more excited for BlogHer, to see old friends from last year and to get to have the chance to meet so many new ones. Three weeks to go and I can barely wait. Just barely. Dude.
Power to the People
So in case yesterday wasn't clear these five lovely and talented sisters asked me to help spread the word about an incredible act of community service, of ultimate kindness, of gigantic deliciousness, otherwise known as the pre-Blogher party. The one with all your bloganistas in one room reunited and feeling so good. Hell, even if you aren't coming to Blogher you can still come to our party. I mean, it's free, and it's for you. For you and you and you and you. For anyone who wants to come.
So without further ado, I give you The People's Party, held on Thursday, July 17th at the Westin in the Elizabethan Room at 8:00pm till whenever someone sets something on fire. If that wasn't clear and you need it fancier, it's all shimmery below too. All that matters is that you join us. If you are interested you can RSVP in her soft and velvety comments section or just tell me here and I'll pass it along for you because I'm nice like that.
Featuring Special Guest Che Bloggess and her Hairdryer of Power via Live Streaming Feed (and you know, live in person because she's tricky like that)
So without further ado, I give you The People's Party, held on Thursday, July 17th at the Westin in the Elizabethan Room at 8:00pm till whenever someone sets something on fire. If that wasn't clear and you need it fancier, it's all shimmery below too. All that matters is that you join us. If you are interested you can RSVP in her soft and velvety comments section or just tell me here and I'll pass it along for you because I'm nice like that.
Featuring Special Guest Che Bloggess and her Hairdryer of Power via Live Streaming Feed (and you know, live in person because she's tricky like that)
The People's Party is brought to you by:
Izzy Mom
The Bloggess
One Plus Two
Mother Bumper
Velveteen Mind
Oh, The Joys
And these cats were crazy enough to want to sponsor the madness:
be sure to wear some flowers in your hair
It's a game of sorts and you are at Clue #5. Follow the breadcrumbs 1-6 because we've got a surprise and it's for you, for every single one of you who wants to come. Go on now, clickety click. Put it all together and it'll tell you what's what.
Either start at the beginning or follow the tease (heh, who's stalking who now, dudes).
What? It's not clear yet? Then you'll have to come back tomorrow for the Full Monty.
Either start at the beginning or follow the tease (heh, who's stalking who now, dudes).
What? It's not clear yet? Then you'll have to come back tomorrow for the Full Monty.
(otherwise known as my last blogher post)
Taking one dimension and adding two more created a roller coaster of giddy, irreverent, joyous and cantankerous feelings over the past three days and as I sat exhausted, dehydrated and yes, lonely in the early morning airport hours all I could think was how lucky I am.
I met amazing women this weekend, women I cried with, shared incredibly important memories with, flirted with, and connected with. I had the honor of wandering the streets of Chicago with three extraordinary women and we all fell into a bit of magic along the way. Palms were read and truths were spilled onto the sidewalk. I had the immense joy of sitting around a bar with most of Mommy Bloggers Toronto and I might attest that a room had never felt so bright. I got to hug and connect with old and new friends and realize there was never quite enough time to feel like it was enough. I spent a balmy outdoor night learning more about a wild woman's heart. And I shared a room and much of the weekend with two of the most beautiful women in the world who welcomed me with open arms and open hearts from the moment we said hello.
I know there will be a lot of Blogher posts floating around this week and I sit here slightly torn about how to express the joy without shutting the door on those who couldn't come. I realized that not talking about it would be doing such an injustice to the women I met and talking about it too much would do the same to the ones I hope I get to meet in the future. But it's an example of what exists through blogging. Opening our eyes and hearts to those we'd never run across otherwise and how much I'd be missing out on if not for all of you.
That didn't mean there weren't rough moments; awkward passings and a stumbling of words. Of not knowing how to react in large groups or how to jump through the veil of small talk into the deep emotions we so freely toss around while safely behind our computers. But even in those moments I learned about myself and the romanticizing I've done about how easy it would be to blur those borders and I decided I am okay with that too.
But mostly I felt like I'd have loved to have the weekend last just a bit longer. But what joy was on the other end of my arrival, toddler legs around my waist and a gorgeous hunk of a man who not only kept my child alive but cleaned the house and grocery shopped to boot.
I met amazing women this weekend, women I cried with, shared incredibly important memories with, flirted with, and connected with. I had the honor of wandering the streets of Chicago with three extraordinary women and we all fell into a bit of magic along the way. Palms were read and truths were spilled onto the sidewalk. I had the immense joy of sitting around a bar with most of Mommy Bloggers Toronto and I might attest that a room had never felt so bright. I got to hug and connect with old and new friends and realize there was never quite enough time to feel like it was enough. I spent a balmy outdoor night learning more about a wild woman's heart. And I shared a room and much of the weekend with two of the most beautiful women in the world who welcomed me with open arms and open hearts from the moment we said hello.
I know there will be a lot of Blogher posts floating around this week and I sit here slightly torn about how to express the joy without shutting the door on those who couldn't come. I realized that not talking about it would be doing such an injustice to the women I met and talking about it too much would do the same to the ones I hope I get to meet in the future. But it's an example of what exists through blogging. Opening our eyes and hearts to those we'd never run across otherwise and how much I'd be missing out on if not for all of you.
That didn't mean there weren't rough moments; awkward passings and a stumbling of words. Of not knowing how to react in large groups or how to jump through the veil of small talk into the deep emotions we so freely toss around while safely behind our computers. But even in those moments I learned about myself and the romanticizing I've done about how easy it would be to blur those borders and I decided I am okay with that too.
But mostly I felt like I'd have loved to have the weekend last just a bit longer. But what joy was on the other end of my arrival, toddler legs around my waist and a gorgeous hunk of a man who not only kept my child alive but cleaned the house and grocery shopped to boot.
chicago kicks ass
It's hard to sum up how fantastic it is to see these women in 3D. They all smell so good. And some of them will grab you at random and you will like it a lot. Others are sassy with red halter tops and great heels. It's been a giant squeal-a-thon where two realities collide and you realize you are standing in front of someone you've been reading forever and a) they don't know who you are and b) it's because you never put pictures of yourself on your blog.
The conference itself has been highly secondary to getting to meet so many fantastic women. Canadians are outrageously beautiful women and I think I have a crush on one of them. And I have these two fantastic non-snoring roommates that are fetching me coffee as I lounge around on the bed and type this post.
So once my slightly addled, post mojito currently bloody mary brain rights itself I promise to post more eloquently about all the sights and smells in Chicago this weekend. But I wanted to check in on all of you who couldn't join us this year and let you know I am thinking of you. Hugs that were sent by others have been duly given and if your ears are burning on and off it's because you are being actively missed.
The conference itself has been highly secondary to getting to meet so many fantastic women. Canadians are outrageously beautiful women and I think I have a crush on one of them. And I have these two fantastic non-snoring roommates that are fetching me coffee as I lounge around on the bed and type this post.
So once my slightly addled, post mojito currently bloody mary brain rights itself I promise to post more eloquently about all the sights and smells in Chicago this weekend. But I wanted to check in on all of you who couldn't join us this year and let you know I am thinking of you. Hugs that were sent by others have been duly given and if your ears are burning on and off it's because you are being actively missed.
anticipation
I started getting incredibly excited about BlogHer this weekend. I truly can't imagine what it will be like to meet those of you who are going and am completely and entirely thrilled. I've not talked about it much but I remember last year at this time. I had just started blogging and saw all the chatter and thought: a conference about blogging? Sheesh. LAME. And then I read all the accounts afterwards and I realized it was hardly lame at all. Even though I had virtually no community here yet it showed me what was possible. And a year later I am actually going.
Sheesh. Not Lame At All.
Talking about it is a mixed bag, those who can't or choose not to go are perhaps bored by all the chatter or feeling left out and that is the last thing I want so I've purposely avoided it. But I know that I'll be bringing all of you with me, your writing and your hearts and will toast our community repeatedly. You might even feel some sort of an electrical impulse or something, I'd be interested to know if that was the case.
In fact that happened to me once. I had been a Burning Man girl before I had gotten pregnant with M. She was due in September so we had to miss the festival but I remember telling J that I wouldn't be surprised if I went into labor the night the man burns because of the collective power and energy being released to the universe with over 25,000 people drumming and dancing and chanting and communing while the Man catches fire and burns up the desert sky. And sure enough, a few minutes after midnight I went into active labor and I can forever tell her she was born the night the man burned in the desert, one of the most special nights of the year.
Long way of saying that you should all be forewarned, because this much good energy in one bloggity place could probably shift the blogging vibrations worldwide.
Sheesh. Not Lame At All.
Talking about it is a mixed bag, those who can't or choose not to go are perhaps bored by all the chatter or feeling left out and that is the last thing I want so I've purposely avoided it. But I know that I'll be bringing all of you with me, your writing and your hearts and will toast our community repeatedly. You might even feel some sort of an electrical impulse or something, I'd be interested to know if that was the case.
In fact that happened to me once. I had been a Burning Man girl before I had gotten pregnant with M. She was due in September so we had to miss the festival but I remember telling J that I wouldn't be surprised if I went into labor the night the man burns because of the collective power and energy being released to the universe with over 25,000 people drumming and dancing and chanting and communing while the Man catches fire and burns up the desert sky. And sure enough, a few minutes after midnight I went into active labor and I can forever tell her she was born the night the man burned in the desert, one of the most special nights of the year.
Long way of saying that you should all be forewarned, because this much good energy in one bloggity place could probably shift the blogging vibrations worldwide.
real moms stalk other real moms
Metro, it may not be a stiff one, but it's for you all the same.
Real moms take their kids to freezing cold beaches in the middle of winter.
Real moms take their kids to freezing cold beaches in the middle of winter.
And then real moms take real dads on vacation without their kids and swim in the ocean as the sun sets in foreign places. Real moms know we are only as good to our babies as we are to ourselves.
In other news, Neen emails me the other day and asks if I want to meet her at Blogher in July. I thought about it for about 2 minutes and decided, uh, yeah, I do. I mean, Jess is going. And I hear Bad is going too. And a heck of a lot of others. And others should come too, like you, KC.
So Neen, hell yes, I want to take a few days off and fly sans diaper bag to Chicago and shack up in a hotel room with you for two nights. If we are really terribly lucky, maybe we'll get Jess drunk and she'll pass out in our hotel room and we can take pictures of her in a stupor and use it to blackmail her later. You know, for free stuff. Like CD mixes. We can hold the pictures ransom until she makes us a CD mix. Or cupcakes. I like cupcakes.
In all seriousness, the other reason I am so interested in going is the focus on building community and effecting social change at this year's conference. Given the Just Posts and my passion for the underrepresented, I am excited to be able to see what more our own blogging community can accomplish. Sky's the limit, friends.
So between stalking Jess and collaborating on community as a vessel for social change, anything is possible for real women in Chicago in July.
EDITED TO SAY: Here I am trying to be funny, and it came across as exclusionary. Wasn't where I was focused when I wrote it and am sorry if that is how it was perceived. Humor aside, I am excited to have another way to get with a group of women from all over the place and talk about possibilities.
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