Last year, when BlogHer came around, I was this bundle of nerves. I spent too much time wandering around my house practicing what I would say when people talked to me. I practiced being witty, and funny, and interesting. My outfits were planned, and executed with much thought and deliberation. There may have been daydreaming that included making so many BFF’s and being recognized as the oh-so popular blogger I am (I’m not). It was exhausting, and I spent so much of the time when I was there not being myself because I was terrified of being judged, of not being liked, and I took some things far too personally.
I learned a lot about myself at that conference, as well as the amazing things I learned regarding what I wanted as a writer.
This year, while my nature is to plan, plan, plan, I’m not overdoing it. I’ve made lists. I’ve thought about the lists. I’ve crossed off the items on the list. There has been no pre-conference conversation planning, or worrying about not being noticed by certain people. In short, I’m not being neurotic this time.
Okay, maybe I am, just a little but I swear, it’s much better this year. This year, I’m going to just be me. No apologies. Unless I trip over you, or spill on you, because I’m a klutz.
If we meet at BlogHer, here’s a couple of things you should know about me. I should come with a warning. In fact, I think everyone should. I think it’d make everyone a little more user friendly.
1. I Suffer From Resting Bitch Face
My roommate was talking to someone. I felt awkward, so I wandered away and took selfies instead. Because.
I do. It’s how my BFF in high school and I became fast friends. We both thought we hated each other. We didn’t, and both admitted almost in unison that most people think we’re snobs because we like watching people. We really liked each other, in fact, we really liked each other’s handwriting. So if you see me sitting at a table and I look like I’m planning to kill someone, I’m not. Likely, I’m thinking about whether or not I should go get another muffin, if that person over there is who I think it is, or if I remembered to put on deodorant. Just don’t tell me to smile, then I’ll actually be suffering from WTF Did You Just Say Face?
2. When I’m Nervous, I Ramble And Say Incredibly Stupid Things
This also causes me to look like a bitch too. Mainly, because I’ll just sit and observe. Meanwhile, my mind is going a mile a minute trying to think of something to add to the conversation. When I finally get it, sometimes I have enough decency to check if the conversation is still on that topic, sometimes I don’t. And that’s when things get incredibly awkward. So I start fumbling to make up for the fact that I’m lagging worse than a dial-up connection.
3. When I Say Something Funny, I’m Super Proud of Myself
If I say something that makes you laugh, don’t be surprised if I look like a child on Christmas. It’s not that I’m not funny; I am. When you are married to a guy who loves the spotlight and is known as the “funny person” in your relationship, you don’t always get a chance to shine. And I love making people laugh.
(I should add, I have a bizarre sense of humor. Sometimes, it’s dark. Sometimes, it’s punny. Sometimes, it’s quick and clever. Mostly though, I find things funny. Like calling my best friend a stupid whore for being able to lose a million pounds and still eat copious amounts of chocolate. I hate her. But not really. Not at all, actually).
4. I’m A Crier
Sometimes I tear up in regular conversation because something you said or did really made me have all the feels. I cry during commercials. I cry when my kids do sweet things for me. I cry when my husband remembers my favorite wine and surprises me with it. I cry when I read, and when I watch movies. In fact, tomorrow, when I’m flying out, I’ll probably cry because I’m leaving my kids, and OMGI’MGOINGTOBEALONE. If we’re talking and I cry, don’t worry, I’m fine. Just tell me if my mascara is running, please.
5. I Don’t Like Talking About Myself
Huh, why would you go to a blogging conference where you pretty much have to talk about yourself? Because I’m a bit of a sadist, I guess. If you ask me questions, I’ll answer, as fast as I can, and then ask you something. Then, I’ll ask more, and more. Until, you catch on (if you do) and then, I’ll feign innocence. I find other people fascinating, and I feel like I’m not as interesting as you are. Maybe I am, and maybe I’m not. So, if you like to talk about yourself, I’m your gal.
6. Hmm, I Also Have No Filter
And sometimes I IG my lack of filter, for your enjoyment.
Even though I want to talk to you about you, don’t talk about yourself too much, because I will tell you that you do. In a nice way, because I’m not really an asshole. I’ll make a joke about it, and redirect the conversation. If that doesn’t work, I’ll move on. Did you sit with me during the Lean In circles last year? I think I pissed a couple of people off, including my roommate. I don’t know why I stayed. Even a year later, I’m still annoyed that I skipped a session I really wanted to go to so I could participate in those damn circles. If it’s not clear, I hated the circles. I found them elementary. Pedantic. And gross. I felt like they were insipid, and manipulative. Ahem. I could go on, but you get the point. I have no filter. I could have, and probably should have just stood up and left. I didn’t because I had some cohorts at the table who were sharing in my distaste, and it was fun to be snarky.
If you already follow me on Twitter, you already know what I’m talking about when it comes to my filter. Two glasses of wine, and it’s almost gone entirely. I’m sorry. I try not to be mean, because I’m not Mean Girls (though, OMG, I love that movie and really wish that Lindsay Lohan would go back to being that version of herself. Did you watch Oprah’s documentary on her? She’s a hot mess, seriously). Wait. Where was I? Lindsay Lohan. Cocaine? No. Oh, I’m not mean. Nope. I’m not. I swear.
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Please come say hi. I promise, I am awesome. I’m really nice, I don’t bite, and I’ll probably buy you a drink if you make me laugh until I cry (I also do this version of crying). I probably won’t say hi first, unless I’m really feeling brave or have accepted that knot in my stomach. Just be nice if I say something really dumb. Or drop the f-bomb and I’ll know you are my people.