I can’t believe it’s over.
Note: Now with links!
And I just have so much to say. And considering it was a blogging conference, I feel like I had no time to blog.
I think the one word that could best describe my Blogher experience right now is Overwhelming. The thoughts, the sheer number of people, things to describe to you which I just haven’t, the blogs and business cards to give out and URL’s floating around and so many things to be organized.
I enjoyed the sessions today. Jess had a good perspective on the mommyblogging panel this morning, which I think was particularly astute; I sat at Heather Armstrong’s panel on blogging for money, and I swear I could listen to her talk all day long. She’s quite a talented public speaker. The third session, and my runaway favorite, was the panel called Is Your Blog A Gallery Or A Canvas or something to that effect. I don’t know if there was just a lot of good karma in the air or what, but I really felt inspired and proud to be doing the random, uncategorizable things that I do. A lot of the writing about blogging has to do with business blogging and niche blogging and ads and yadda yadda, but I far prefer to think of Supafine as self-expression. From the design to the copy to the photos and other material I post, my number one reason for blogging is not to share stories, per se, and definitely not to make money. It’s not even for the community, even though I’ve met some pretty special people thanks to this web site. Supafine’s raison d’etre is to serve as a platform for the things I create, that I think about or sew up or imagine or photograph. I am loathe to define it or narrow it; my interests wax and wane and flow and overlap. Sometimes it’s a craft blog; sometimes it’s a mommyblog; less and less these days it’s a tech blog or a journalism blog or a local Baltimore blog.
Mostly it’s just me, and since I have a hard time seeing myself as one thing, I have a hard time seeing Supafine as just one thing, either.
Anyway. Maybe I’ll tackle some thoughts on the social aspect of Blogher, but that’s for another post. Thank you all for reading. I’m off to bed.
Whoa nelly
700 people gets very overwhelming for me.
Blogher: Mommyblogging is a radical act
- Live blogging! Woo!
- This is primarily going to be a Q and A, according to our redhaired moderator, whomever that may — never mind, it’s Marrit, who covers tech, film and books for the Austin Chronicle ( or was it the Statesman?)
- They are now announcing the winners of the Our Story story contest. Jennifer Sharpen is a runner up, I think he said.
- Marritt is announcing the panelists: Mir, Sweetney (Tracey) and Finslippy (Alice).
Now for something a touch more introspective
Note: This post now with links!
Waking up the morning after always feels like a bad idea.
I had a dream that there was a flaming meteor three feet in diameter and it was headed straight for my head; it missed me but came in through the window of the house next door. I think the aural influence of the 101 ramp might be to blame for that one.
Before that dream, I was sleeping the very deep sleep of the very drunk. The embarrassingly-chatty-turned-dead-tired variety. I seem to remember sending a few misspelled and maudlin e-mails, and also that taking off my clothes was way too difficult, as was figuring out how to post to my blog.
I feel almost contrite this morning. I want to apologize for my awkwardness, and my rudeness, and my horrible sailor’s mouth. I want to apologize for my boneheaded Midwesternness, which always overrides any fragments of East Coast I may have when I drink. (When I drink, I let slip the occasional “reckon” and “yonder” and get hankerings for chicken wings, in addition to being simply shocked at things that are not shocking).
I also would like to apologize to the State of California for smoking cigarettes. I get the impression, California, that you would rather like me to quit, no? I will try. For you, I will try.
Last night I met Mothergoosemouse, and Mom101, both of whom were awesome but whom I couldn’t find again; also the rocking Jenijen of NotCalm dot com, Mary Tsao, Mandajuice, JenB and her tonic, Denise and TW, Karianna, Laid Off Dad, the author of Use Your Words whose name escapes me (Note: It’s Kathy); some BlogHims I probably annoyed because I was very intoxicated and commented brashly on their, ah, maleness; and special sightings of Dutch and Juniper and, of course, Heather Armstrong.
And fifty million more people after that. I would also like to apologize for my utter lack of manners and social skills and the fact that I can’t seem to reply to comments or e-mails as fast as I would like (or at all).
I really do wish you all were here.
OK you guys?
I LOVE BLGOHER. AND CAPS LCOKC I S ON.
NOW IT IS OFF. No, wait, now it is off. they had free wine. and veyroen is beaui\tiful and frienldly and I am tiered and misspelling but happyk. where are my flickr photos? i have to show you hwo bua beautiful california and bloghers is/are.
going to sleep now. hope things make sense in the a.m. i love you all. even if I haven’t told you. if you were here i would kiss you and it would be awkward but OK in the end.
love mb
p.s i would marry jess if shane didnt get to her first. she’s grfeast great.
(this post was composed at 10 p.m. ish last night. One of Jeffy’s friends the other day mentioned being overserved: This, too is a clear case of being overserved. By perhaps half a bottle.)
A little homesick, but otherwise good
Procrastinating on getting ready for this cocktail party/welcome reception thing. Spent the morning Blogher-ing with Jess and getting brunch, and got to meet Amalah (though she probably doesn’t know it) and the lovely Eden.
I am exhausted. And apparently Owen is teething or sick or otherwise very unhappy, judging from a brief phone call to Iain. My poor boys.
All right. I have photos to upload and a shower to take and I need to get dressed. Wish me lots of luck tonight because I am nervous as hell. I’m so glad Jess is here to hold my hand, metaphorically speaking.
Airport diaries, much belated: Vol. 1
2:36 p.m.
Here I am, at the Atlanta airport. Too cheap to pay for a wifi access pass, so I’ll type this up in text edit. I probably shouldn’t be wasting battery time, either, but what the hell.
The gonna-throw-up feeling is mostly gone. It peaked walking toward Security with Iain and Owen this morning — I managed to shed just one tear as I put my stuff through the conveyer belt. Though every time I hear a baby cry or a little kid yell I look around. I know he’s not here but something inside me needs to comfort the other little kids, too.
Anyway, uneventful flight, of course, or I wouldn’t be here typing this up. I grabbed a stupid 8” pizza for lunch and stared out the window at the departing planes. Then I smoked in the smoker’s lounge and listened to a recently bereaved woman tell me all sorts of crazy stories, including one about a murderess and the Governor and some sort of pardon based on her cooking skills.
I picked up a Jane magazine because I suddenly hate all the books I brought (all two of them: a Bombeck and a Lamott, and they’re not capturing my attention, plus they’re making me sentimental and weepy, and I don’t feel like crying again). I was reading some little feature and I saw the name Jill Hindenach and laughed out loud in the smoking lounge — that’s Jeffy’s little sister! I had forgotten she was interning there. I felt like calling him to tell him but, well, here I am with no cell phone and no phone card and it’ll just have to wait til I see him tonight.
I really am looking forward to seeing him. Seeing as he lives all the way across the country, I only see him once a year. And now I’ll have something else to talk to him about, in addition to the bluezillion awards he won and the sassy little mention of him in the Journalism program’s alumni magazine.
Well, I guess that’s everything right now. I’m going to dig up my iPod and my jury-rigged headphones and try to drown out all these strangers and their problems and their loudness. I’m going to look pretty ghetto with these earbuds with black electrical tape all over them, but the money I saved there went to buying this magazine and the aforementioned pizza, so there you go.
I miss you, Owen. I think you’d like it here, seeing the planes take off. I miss you too, Iain. Have fun camping. I hope you cheer up some.
Testing
testing.
I’m here and it’s Blogher
Opening session. I have still not had time to post anything but here I am, my plane landed in one piece, Jess is awesome and my head hasn’t exploded.
Yet.
SO. MUCH. MORE to come, I swear to god, you’ll be sick of me.
Are you going to eat that valium? Can I have it, then?
Well, here I am with darker brown hair. I’m mostly packed. Owen’s got a fever. And I think I should get some nicotine gum for the flight from ATL to SJC (5 hours).
I’m getting flares of nervousness. I don’t like the cooped-up-edness of flying, first of all, and I’m trying desperately not to think about being awkward and alone at the social-type things during the conference. The cool part is rooming with Jess, whom I feel like I’ve known for years — OK, one year, since we met on the chat for last year’s Blogher. And I’m spending tonight and tomorrow with Jeff, my good old pal from college, who lives in S.J. and has promised to entertain me.
So if I seem dismissive or something, it’s because I’m trying really hard to downplay the scariness and work on positive thoughts and relaxation techniques. I can do this! It’s just like greyhound, only in the air, and one of my best friends will be there to hug me when I step off the plane.
Also, Iain will be armed with Children’s Motrin. I am glad my husband is the type who can take care of a feverish, mom-missing child with one hand tied behind his back. Happy anniversary, honey, I love you.
And Owen, if my plane crashes, know that I love you too and am always thinking of you every minute of the day.
recent flickr
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