Velveteen Mind

Performing Without a Net at Blissdom '08

My spam folder is full of emails with the phrase "sexually active blog."

They aren't spam.  They are women quoting me from BlissDom 08.

So, yes, it was fabulous.  Fabulously eccentric, rich, and entertaining.

(ahem, this would be a good time to state again that Blissfully Domestic is not affiliated with Velveteen Mind, as they aren't the "sexually active blog" kind of foul-mouthed girls I embrace over here...  wink wink)

My second blog conference, Blissdom was hosted by Blissfully Domestic and sponsored by Epson and One2One Network.  I can not encourage you enough to attend the next conference you can wrangle.  Too much fun, too much information (oy! the brain!), and too much opportunity to pass up. 

Too much encouragement to let slip by unembraced.

After BlogHer San Francisco, my single complaint was that most of the information offered in the sessions was content I could have Googled.  I was looking for more personal experiences to be shared, less how-to information. 

Why waste the little face-to-face time we have with each other by detailing instructions and explanations we could just as easily look up on our own time? 

Yes, having someone explain it in person is far superior to Googling a complicated list of instructions, but with limited time, I'd rather get my hands on the intangible that my computer monitor can't seem to convey.

That, I found in the hallways in between BlogHer sessions.  That, I found in the whispered asides and furtively scribbled notes between neighbors.  BlogHer was what I made of it.  I made of it the intangible.

That was BlissDom.

Sitting in front of me is an insanely awesome printer from Epson, the sponsor of BlissDom 08 in Nashville.  Rather than run down all of the intuitive functions and utilitarian features of the Epson Artisan 800, though, wouldn't you rather hear why  it is important to me to hold physical prints of photos in my hands vs. seeing them in their digital form only?  Isn't it more engaging and illuminating to know about my deep-seated need to have high-quality photographs surround me, which I can now print from home thanks to Epson? 

You can Google the features.  You can look up the functions.

But Google can't tell you why I needed a printer.  Yahoo can't convey the simultaneous freedom and control an all-in-one at my fingertips offers me, as a work-at-home mom with a self-sabotage bent, fueled by procrastination.  How I need all the tricks I can get my hands on in order to make it through the day. 

That was BlissDom.  It was the why, more than the how.

But there was more than human stories being shared.  It wasn't all touchy-feely.   More experienced bloggers approached me after panels and marveled at the "proprietary secrets" being shared.  So often I heard, "the new bloggers here have no idea the value of what they are hearing.  No one shares this stuff.  It's astounding, the openness."

And it was astounding.  You just had to scratch the surface, let the first drop of earth-bound honesty fall, and a river of transparency flowed.  No one was ashamed.  No one was overly proud.  It was what it was.

And then there was me.  Babbling and man-handling the mic.  Possibly cursing and comparing our blogs to geeky virgins that might consider at least trying to look like we are gettin' some.  When, in fact, we've never kissed a girl/ received a comment.

Not one of you has a photo of me double-fisting it?  For shame.  ;)

So back to that email inbox.  The emails that made it past the spam filter are mostly requests for further explanations or repetition of some of the points I hit along my mic-hogging.  First of all, if you missed BlissDom, you shouldn't have.  Second, you'll have another chance in February, so get on the ball.  Third, yes, I'll repeat and expand on some of what I tricked you into thinking was valuable or interesting.  As well as most definitely touch on some impressive women I met.  Soon.  So be sure you are subscribed so you don't miss my haphazard updates.

And, yes, I know I don't post frequently enough.  I'll, um, post about that soon, too.

I walked away from BlissDom knowing that I'm doing the right thing for me.  I learned lots of tricks and tips, most of which I will probably continue to ignore and which I encourage you to ignore, as well.  Why? 

Because it is infinitely valuable to know how to be "successful" and to willfully define your success by other means.

Blog conferences shouldn't be about scaring the pants off of you with everything you aren't doing right or aren't doing at all.  They shouldn't discourage you by suggesting that you'll never catch up and never compete.

Call it "willful suspension of disbelief." 

I know how movies are made; I know Superman can't fly.  But it's so much fun to throw yourself into it and ignore the wires, once they are in place,  just because you can.

I know the wires are there.  Sometimes I can feel them more than I'd like.  I've checked and double-checked them for reliability.  They are functioning just as they should. 

And now...  I'm going to turn my face to the wind and fly.   

Join me?

~~~

Be sure to click on the images to check out the flickr streams of BlissDom attendees that had the sense to take their cameras out of their bags.  Ahem.  Special thanks to Secret Agent Mama and Mommin' It Up.  People, click on their links or they'll never let me steal photos again.

~~~

 

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Now Appearing in Nashville, Possibly Headless

"If you started your blog to write about your everyday life and now your blog has infiltrated your everyday life, how do you account for that in your writing?"

This question was posed recently in the blogging community by a tenacious new blogger, trying to find her foothold in parenting blogger circles.    This is actually an amalgam of questions posed by a variety of upstart up-and-coming bloggers (oops, a reader pointed out that "upstart" can also mean arrogant, sorry there), all openly researching the top blogs in their chosen genre, trying to pin down what defines their success. 

In doing their research, these new bloggers began to notice not only what defines the success of the old guard, but also what signals the beginning of their decline:  the introduction of self-awareness.  Specifically, the self-consciousness of being observed.

One of my very first blog posts was Shrouded Audience Revealed.  Through years of keeping journals, I became aware that even though my journals or diaries were entirely private, books stashed away for none to find, I was never able to write as openly as I wanted.  On some level, I always expected my entries to eventually be read by someone other than me.  The hackneyed Emily Dickinson.

Blogging removed the shroud from that imagined audience.  And it changed the way I write.  For better or worse.

We all try to deny this self-awareness in our writing, but it is there.  We consider our audience now.  Even if just a tiny little bit.  Perhaps in a moment of hesitation before we hit publish on a controversial topic.  An occasional second thought.

I had one of those second thoughts this morning.  I sat down to write a post  to share the news that I would be attending and speaking at BlissDom in Nashville on October 18.  But then I thought:

"This isn't 'news.'  It's just information.  And who the hell cares, anyway?  Am I suggesting that there is someone out there that might decide to go to BlissDom because Mrs. Fancypants here is going to be hogging the mic?"

Yeah.  Exactly.  Drivel.

The true point is that I'm excited about 1) being invited to speak at all and 2) having one-on-one time in a small group of people that I either haven't yet met or didn't have enough time with at BlogHer.  I can't wait and genuinely hope that you'll be able to make it, not to hear me, but just to visit.  Bliss.

This brings me back to that original question:  How can we claim that we are the same, writing about our everyday mundane, when blogging has changed our lives or at least has the potential to do so?  For instance, I am traveling over 8 hours one-way in order to not only meet other bloggers (a subculture I once considered marginal and geeky but now see as increasingly mainstream and ingenious), but to speak to them.  And they might even want to hear what I have to say.  About blogging.

And part of this engagement involves writing about it.

The paradox:

Blogging can be like any other job.  Of course it infiltrates your life, just as your job should.  But when your "job" is to write about how your life is like everyone else's, and then that job changes your life, where does that leave you? 

The following is best read as one giant run-on sentence, for full effect...

When your everyday activities now include much that revolves around blogging, does writing about it become circular?  You are now blogging about blogging, because blogging is very much a part of your everyday activities?  But people began reading your blog to read about your everyday life, when it had nothing to do with blogging other than the fact that you were actually writing it down and sharing it within the platform of a blog...  Will they still want to read about your everyday life when your everyday life includes writing about your everyday life?

 

Now pick up the pieces of your head that just exploded and get back to me.

~~~

But do get back to me before the 18th of October, because I'll be speaking at BlissDom in Nashville about blogging about my everyday life, which I insist you will see yourself in, and which now includes traveling cross-country to talk about blogging.  Because that's normal everyday life, right?  Right.  Help me out here.  Come talk me down from the ledge.

~~~

*The "serpent eating its tail" images are referred to as the Ouroboros, symbolic of both infinity and, for our purposes, the circular argument.

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5 Minutes for Moody Obscurity...

My 5 Minutes for Moody Obscurity are apparently up.  Following our evacuation for Hurricane Gustav, I found myself in a grumpy bout of emotional exhaustion.  Nothing particularly dramatic happened, however the entire evacuation process followed by long hours of waiting and watching just drained me. 

We returned home to a battered coastline but a safe and sound home.  I would think I was over being moody, go down to the beach to take photos to share with you (coming soon, I swear), then find myself right smack dab in the middle of a grump fest again. 

Lots of eating and sleeping have been going on, but no computer turning-on-ing.  ;)

However, my time for dabbling in depression has come to an end, as I find myself being dragged out of said moody obscurity by my Canadian twin-tastic friends at 5 Minutes for Mom.  Head over to their revamped network of sites and check out the first video interview I did for them while in San Francisco recently. 

What I should be depressed about is how they clearly shot me from my fat side (ahem), but aside from the rambling, I think it's a fun interview.  Susan and Janice were immensely professional and I was exactly the opposite.  In other words, it was a blast.

I think they said "stop mocking me!" at least half a dozen times, but I couldn't help it!  By the way, I was not mocking them at any point, but rather admiring their professionalism and completely contagious Canadian accents.  After working with them on The People's Party and the 5 Minutes for Mom video segments, I can't recommend this duo enough.  If you aren't a member of 5 Minutes for Mom, yet, get over there right now and sign up. 

I have the perfect first stop for you:  Me!  Talking aimlessly and touching my face way too much!

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Internet Fame is for the Nerds: Post-BlogHer Identity

(edited below for clarification on 8/10/08)

As I was packing for San Francisco to attend the BlogHer 2008 blog conference, I was confident of two things about myself:  I write a decent blog with one hand and change dirty diapers with the other.  I know who I am and I know right where I belong.

If anything, attending BlogHer would have one of two results for me: 

1) I would discover that more people read this blog than I realize.

or

2) I would be put in my place as an anonymous face in a sea of anonymous faces.

I was pretty good with either of those outcomes because the real reason I was heading to BlogHer for the first time was to meet other bloggers, not promote my own blog.  I can talk about me any day, but I can only meet you on the very rare occasion.

What I discovered is that most of the friends I have made online are my friends in the flesh, as well.  I also discovered that I have far more friends than I realized.

The first time someone came up to me and asked, "Are you the Velveteen Mind?" I thought I was going to pass out from excitement.  How cool is that?  After sessions, during which I had to pipe up and hog the mic (being sure to say, "Hey, I'm Megan from Velveteen Mind" and hope someone would look me up on their laptop), there would sometimes be people lined up at my table to meet me.  Me.  How crazy is that?

It's bat-shit crazy, is what it is.

Then, somewhere around the 12th time someone approached me in the hall while I was talking to my elusive roommates and shared with me that they read my blog or follow me on twitter, it started to feel a little embarrassing.  It never embarrassed me if I was alone, but it kept happening in front of the same people and, honestly, I started to feel like a bit of a whore.

Like, "Gah, how much does she pimp herself on twitter, anyway?"  Yeah, pretty much just like that.  I could feel eyes rolling around me (not my roommates') and I felt like I should defend myself or explain away how these people knew me.

Because God forbid I have a popular blog or a heavily-followed twitter account.

Why does success feel so dirty in a platform like personal blogging?  It feels downright pornographic if you are a mom-blogger.

And before your eyes roll right out of your own head, let me clarify what I mean by "success."  On one floor, of one hotel, in one city, in one country, in all of the world, for one weekend...  a handful of people knew who I was and were excited to meet me.  Go up or down one level, step outside of our bubble, and it was all gone.

Internet celebrity is a farce.  It is meaningless.  It is fleeting.  And it is rampantly revered...  by people reading the Internet.

Ask your dad who Dooce is.  Then get back to me.

BlogHer was a schizophrenic's EEG.  Intoxicating high's (the recognition) and feet-to-ground lows (the blank stares in response to "I'm Megan from Velveteen Mind").  Trust me, my feet were solidly planted on the ground most of the time.  Half the time I wanted to say, "Yeah, I know, I totally made up that blog name.   I don't even own a computer." and the rest of the time I felt sure someone would ask for my autograph.

And that was all on that one floor of the hotel.  Step outside and I went right back to feeling foolish for admitting that I was at a blogging conference.  Surely someone would wonder where my Spock ears were.

The point of all of this is to reiterate that the deference given to big-name bloggers is laughable at best and damagingly naive at worst.  I thought I could let all of the post-BlogHer drama posts slide, but it finally came to a head for me today and I just have to beg you to stop.

These are real people.  They probably won't be "famous" next year.  Don't hesitate to reach out to them.  Don't hesitate to talk to them.  And don't be afraid to cross them if you disagree with something that they have said.

Engage them in a conversation.  Chances are, they are starving for real discussion.  No one respects a fangirl, but everyone loves knowing that their work is appreciated.  Get beyond that hurdle and you might be surprised at the human you find behind the blog.

I swear, I feel foolish even writing this because my in-real-life friends are going to be saying to themselves, "Is she serious?  These are just blogs."  Yeah, I am.  There were people who were too intimidated to approach me at BlogHer. 

That, my friends, is pterodactyl-shit crazy.

All of this is sort of ridiculous.  Yet, blogging has true value.  I learned that definitively at BlogHer.  And no matter your vitriol (I think it's a law that all bloggers use that word at least once), you can't change that for me.

By the way, I'm writing this on my couch, I haven't had a shower today, my sink is full of dishes, my boys may not have clean clothes for school tomorrow (working on that), and one of the highlights of my day is yet to come:  putting my sons down to bed, which includes reading a couple of books, rocking the two year old and singing "All You Need is Love," and then all three of us cuddling in bed for a minute while we talk about the stars projected on their ceiling.

I know right where I belong.

Because in two little hearts, in one home, on one street, in one city, I am the most famous person in all the world.  And there is infinite value in that.

~~~

(edited to add:  I was going to have a bunch of fun photos, but before I could upload them, I was flooded with emails telling me that a gracious yet very pointed comment I left on a big-name blogger's recent post was deleted.  I have never been censored in my life, so I'm sort of floored.  You know me.  Can you imagine what I would have had to write to get deleted?

Ah, the irony.  This post suddenly looks very naive to me.

That being said, unless the natives settle down considerably, my post on Monday will be called either "Inciting the Queen & King" or "Utah is the new China.")

***Final edit added 10:30pm 8/10/08: The comment deleted was my final comment made on a blog written by a Utah blogger named Jon Armstrong.  He is dooce's husband.  I do not care that Jon deleted my comment (one of 4 that I left as the conversation progressed), but rather that Jon evidently deleted the vast majority of all dissenting comments submitted to his post, none of which appear to have been hateful or malicious, but rather just disagreeing with his presentation of a story that had long since been settled.  His call, our opinions, his censorship.

Ultimately, his blog.  Again, he has the right to hide my opinion from you, as well as dozens of others.

Silencing dissenting opinions has never been a good thing.  As you will see in the comments of this post, I refuse to silence dissenting opinions as long as they do not attack my readers.  Regardless.  Transparency and humility are integral to this platform. 

Here are the facts, for your consideration:

1. Jon and Heather Armstrong live in Utah. 
2. China is infamous for viciously censoring all dissenting opinions.

Here is my opinion, for your entertainment:

Utah is the new China.

But it doesn't have to be.

Side note:  If you are here looking for drama, you might want to move along (after leaving your requisite hateful comment) because I rarely enter these frays.  If what you take away from the above post is that I actually think I am famous, then you probably won't "get" this blog.  You'll be disappointed when I start writing about "community" and "morals" and my kids again.  Good Lord, half the time I talk about the Discovery channel and Matt Lauer.  Move along.  Or don't.  That's your call.  You might want to consult my "comment policy" at the bottom of the page, though.

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Like Tom Hanks but Without the Cash

No, there was no live feed of The People's Party.  As far as I can tell, Guy Kawasaki hijacked our video girl (which, yes, is just like "video killed the radio star") and I'm still crushed about it.  Guy!  I thought we were working together on this!  Man. 
(I'm kidding.  I should probably spell that out.)

You know what else there wasn't?  Any more words after this next paragraph or two.  I am finally home after spending 24 hours straight in either an airport or an airplane.  Yeah...  um...  Yeah.  I was just like Tom Hanks in The Terminal, though it felt much more like Cast Away.   After the ninth hour, I looked just like a castaway, too, inspiring vendors to give me free food and drinks.  Mostly because they wanted me to stop scaring off their customers.

If you are new here, maybe some of my regular readers can vouch for this blog in the comments?  If not, my sidebars are loaded with stuff to click, including great post-BlogHer posts by people that are not me.  Or, even better, because although I am too tired to type, I'm not too tired to read... 

If we met this weekend for the first time, leave a comment with a link to your blog and give me  something to occupy my delirious brain that refuses to shut off and let me get some sleep!  Don't leave me hanging, though.  Twitter became like my Wilson at the airport...  I was doing a lot of talking and only imagining a lot of responses.  Maybe my brain will kick back on somewhere in here and I'll be able to write a real post.  Until then... Vouching and linking commencing...   now!

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