Velveteen Mind

Secrets

2008-11-19T11:38:00-06:00

Guest post by Kate Anonymous from Kate Uncensored

Let's talk secrets. Many of my readers have remarked how lucky I am to be able to blog about whatever I want, anonymously. There is a freedom I have that many do not, I realize this.

When I started blogging in 2003, I had a personal blog that only friends and family had the address for. That lasted oh, about 4 weeks. I felt stifled, as what I mostly wanted to blog about was, shocking, my friends and family. I wanted an outlet to think out loud, or in print as the case may be.

A few months later, I started blogging again. I was going through infertility treatment and had found a community of women and men who knew exactly what I was going through. Soon after reading them, I realized I could go from journaling in a book on to the web.

So I poured my heart out. My blog was a daily journal of going through testing, treatment, loss. My readers followed me through a roller coaster of trying drugs, going to the ER (from which I posted) DNA and genetic testing. They supported me when I found out my husband was sterile and when I discovered he was physically unable to produce an erection. When I had less than a week to get together money for a state grant cycle, they loaned and gave me money. They rallied around me while I started the IVF process, and as I waited to find out whether or not it had been successful.

When I broke the news of my cancer on my blog - I was truly touched by those who sent notes, flowers, news articles. I told them before I ever told my husband or my family and friends, because I knew I had to start telling sometime, and I felt telling might be easier if I practiced first in writing.

These people knew secrets we had kept from our friends and family - even though my name was attached to the blog. During chemo, I took it down. I no longer felt I belonged there, because most of the people who read me, and those I read in return had "graduated" and become parents.

Soon after that, I started it back up, sporadically posting. This time, blogging in a new location and without my name or photo attached. No one would find me this way, I hoped and guessed. I started exploring things I dared not expose to people I knew. I had secrets that would break hearts, wreck homes, disappoint and dishonor.

After relocating, I found myself posting more often. It was a sort of therapy, being able to share the things I had to share. I found myself curious about the local bloggers and began reading and commenting, opening myself up to a community once again. I gained more of an audience, for those who read before that rarely spoke up. That was the motivation I had to continue. I moved older posts, to give some background and continued to divulge the kind of information others might be unable to.

Think of sharing the things you hold back once in a while, you'll be surprised how encouraging those around you will be. The people who've read me both before, and recently, are so significant to me. Some comment and some choose to lurk, staying anonymous themselves. Some have reached out to email me when they thought they had something to say that I needed to hear. Some of them have become close friends, though we're separated by tens or hundreds or thousands of miles. Some have become confidantes, and have shared their own secrets with me. One became more.

I go out of my way to keep some information about myself private, but I reveal my innermost thoughts and hopes, desires and fears. Of course, there are still things I don't share. Secrets that are mine to keep, secrets that are only mine to share. But it's nice to know I have the option.

Curious? You can read it here

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Letting Go. . . of Myself

2008-11-18T11:47:00-06:00

Guest post by Mary Davis of Everyday Baby Steps

Hi, my name is Mary, and I'm a total fraud. At my personal blog and other places around the blogosphere, I've been known to preach about how important it is for moms to take care of themselves and to take time for themselves, even just a little each day. Um, so why am I sitting here in my sweats and slippers, without a trace of makeup, with crazy hair that hasn't been maintained in three months? Because I'm a fraud. That's why.

See this picture? It's the photo I use (most of the time) for my online presence. It's a fairly decent representation of me, and I'm pleased with it. But I'll let you in on a little secret. I showered and put makeup on specifically for the momentous occasion of getting this photograph taken.

I knew, after becoming pregnant with baby number three and leaving my full-time job as a college adviser, that I would be prone to the frumpy and dumpy days of a stay-at-home mom. I even took steps to avoid it - I became a Mary Kay lady for God's sake! That worked for a little while. I enjoyed "playing with makeup", as is the vernacular of Mary Kay culture, and had a blast learning all the fun techniques of product application. However, it was the whole selling thing that ended my Mary Kay career. I was not meant to be the pusher of pretty.

So I started working in earnest toward my freelance writing career, which actually involves quite a bit of selling as well. Selling of my skills and my work are needed in freelancing, but looking presentable is usually not. So I've slipped into the comfortable routine of work-at-home mom, getting the kids ready for school, caring for the baby, and writing during every spare minute - sometimes not even showering for days.

What happened to the woman I was? The one who took pride in her professional image? The one who had fun with fashion and considered finding bargains on cute shoes a professional sport? The woman who felt confident attending conferences stating, "I work in academic advising." I'm moving forward a little at a time toward feeling comfortable in my "freelance writer" shoes, but it's slow going. I vow, from this moment on, to work toward presenting a poised, professional appearance. I will take my new job seriously. Maybe that will help me to find my identity again. I think I'll start by going to take a shower.

Mary writes about her transition from the traditional workforce to work-at-home mom at her personal blog, Everyday Baby Steps. You can also follow her journey at Adventures in Freelancing, her community for newbie freelance writers.

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A Wedding for Everyone {Part One}

2008-11-17T21:28:46-06:00

Seven year ago today, we were married.

Although neither of us had ever called it home, New Orleans called to us, so it was there that we chose to plant the roots of a life which we would forever call home.

Laced with the strength of chicory, echoing with the sounds of friends and family, bruised by adversity, warmed by tradition, spiced with variety, worn threadbare by the lives that dug their heels in deep to the rich swamp soil... New Orleans was the perfect place to swear our souls to one another.

And no, we didn't keep it simple. But we certainly kept it real.

Real joy ...hope ...celebration ...tradition ...flair ...fun ...love ... Real us.

Surrounded by love. Friends and family and well-wishes wrapped in smiles.

A bride wrapped in the wedding gown worn by her mother. Made by her great-aunt. Hand-painted and fussed over and preserved with hope and anticipation.

The end of something solitary and the beginning of everything whole.

Everyone should have a beginning such as this.

An early afternoon ceremony in St. Louis Cathedral in Jackson Square in the French Quarter. We arrived in carriages and hushed tourists' whispers of "who are they again?"

Strangers taking our pictures and generously offering to send us copies of our own.

Everyone should have paparazzi on their wedding day.

We are you. You can have this, too, you know! Just ask. You don't have to be fancy, you just need to want to have more fun than a couple of dreamers should be allowed to have... and then have it.

St. Louis Cathedral would be the only serious moment in a party to stretch eight hours

long. It would be the last hushed or still anything. A beautiful foundation to a spectacular day... to spectacular hopes for our whole lives long.

I smiled so much as I walked down the aisle, I thought my face would ache for years. The beginning of laugh lines that would be nurtured by baby's giggles and toddlers' antics. Laugh lines deepened by new lives to enter our own, to erase the melancholy of the father walking his baby girl down the

aisle only to be rewarded by hilarious miniature versions of himself.

But first...

Can you hear the beads rolling into the square, bunches and bunches headed to eager hands? Can you hear the crowd gathering? Can you hear the Second Line Band assembling?

I do.

Everyone should have a parade through the streets after they say "I do."

We left in our wake screams of celebration, cries of surprise, and not fewer than a few bums with pearl-like beads around their necks, dangling medallions announcing our union. This was a wedding celebration for everyone.

And everyone should have the blessings of the street people on their wedding day.

~~~

...this is only the beginning, so be sure to stick around for Part Two...

~~~

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Anticipation

2008-11-16T18:45:24-06:00

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Once a Month

2008-11-15T22:44:00-06:00

Guest post by Marinka of Motherhood in NYC

Once a month, I have dinner with a group of girlfriends. A gaggle of girlfriends, if you will.

They are not my closest friends, they are not the people that I talk to every day, exchange emails with or seek out when I need comfort or have exciting news.

They are the mothers of my seven year old son's friends and I wouldn't trade them for the world. (That's just an expression. Really. Make me an offer). I was included initially in their midst when I turned forty almost two years ago and they invited me out to dinner to celebrate. We've been getting together every month ever since. Not all of our children are in the same school anymore. Our children have formed different friendships. But even though I have friends who are closer, older, and let's face it, better, I look forward to these monthly dinners and I am unwilling to miss any.

We usually go to a Mexican restaurant and it is a testament to New York City that we've never been to the same one twice. We drink margaritas, order appetizers and sometimes share entrees. We drink more margaritas. One of the women usually forgets her glasses and I read the menu to her.

Then, someone will say, "Ok, who has important gossip?" We exchange stories that our husbands have no interest in, we give one sentence synopses of whatever is going on with our respective jobs, and comment on Kelly Ripa's weight. We mock one of us because she has to get back home before "Grey's Anatomy" starts and we talk about who the hottest dad in the class is. I don't tell them that my step-son's mother is gravely ill and has been all year and that the prognosis is awful and that I can't stop thinking about her and her son and that it's tearing me apart. I don't tell them because I want to have a slice of my life where I can be catty about the outfits at drop off and about whether the fact that one mom we all know looks so suddenly fantastic means that she's having an affair. All of this, and not be absorbed in pity, and in death and in reality. I don't want to infuse sadness and adulthood into our dinners. Not for their sake, but for mine.

I know that true friendship is openness and baring our souls and having our friends hold us close. And yet, these women are no less true for what they do offer me, for the boundaries that they respect and I have no doubt that they save my life. Every month.

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What's your nut factor?

2008-11-14T22:28:00-06:00

Guest post by Maternal Spark

Hi Velveteen Mind readers. My name is Heather and I blog over at Maternal Spark – a blog for and about creative moms. I have to admit I’m a little nervous showing up over here, with a new audience full of people I don’t know. What do you expect from me anyway? I normally write about creative inspirations, roadblocks and projects but I don’t know if you guys care about any of that so instead I’ll go with the random weirdness that is me. I hope it helps you with your holiday shopping. That will make sense, just stay with me people.

I am the one on my family’s shopping list that everyone groans over because they don’t know what to buy me. They ask “Hey Heather, what do you want for Christmas?” and I say, “I don’t know, I don’t need anything.”

Case in point. I still have $200 in my wallet from my birthday. It was my 30^th birthday. Nobody knew what to get me so I ended up with cash. I originally had $250 but I spent some on notebooks and a novel because I love buying books. Anyway, that money is still unspent in my wallet because I can’t figure out what to buy. My birthday was in August.

Then today, we were driving home from some random errand (likely picking up some sort of baby paraphernalia) it was so minor I’ve already forgotten. But my point is, we drove past some garage sale signs and I flung open the door of the minivan and ninja rolled out of there – towards said garage sale. I gave some old lady who was eyeing up a collection of cut glass tableware the stink eye and she cowered in fear, moving out of my way.

I snapped up a pair of glass salt and pepper shakers that were topped with silver wrapped around pearlescent buttons. I thought I’d found my treasure for the day but then, I turned around.

There on the table, amongst the vintage doilies and an avocado green blender was the most amazing thing I’d ever seen (that week). A giant nut shaped, nut bowl with crackers and picks. Whoa! That baby was coming home with me, no doubt about it! Guess how much I paid, guess come on…….$2! Only TWO BUCKS!

That two dollar nut bowl gave me more joy than any $200 from-the-mall-purchase could ever provide.

No wonder nobody knows what to buy me. Poor suckers.

Anyway, my point here is to think about that person on your gift list who you never know what to buy for and go looking for their giant nut. It certainly isn’t about how much money you spend…it’s about the nut factor.

Well guys, it was fun playing in someone else's park today. If you enjoyed this post come on over to my sandbox to say hi. You can find me at Maternal Spark - it's where Creative Moms Shine!

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Rickrolling 101, or Holy crap that's a lot of YouTube links

2008-11-13T22:07:50-06:00

Guest post by Musing

I'm in the car with my 19-yr-old daughter and 17-yr-old son. They're chatting about different things when I hear the word, "Rickrolled."

"What's that?" I ask.

"Oh. My. God," my son says. "You don't know what a Rickroll is?!? How can you be on the Internet as much as you are and not know what a Rickroll is?"

"FAIL!" says my daughter.

My son huffs. "A Rickroll is when someone gets you to click on a link you think's for one thing, but instead it takes you to a music video by Rick Astley."

"Who's Rick Astley?"

17-yr-old son slaps his forehead.

Daughter explains, "He's a pop singer, and his song Never Gonna Give You Up was a big hit in the 80's."

"Ah, no wonder," I say, "I totally missed 80's music. I was too busy popping out four babies that decade."

Son says, "You are so not cool, Mom."

"I'll have you know I'm one hip mother," I say. "Who drove through a blizzard last year so she could scream herself silly at a rock concert? Who wants a tattoo on her back as soon as she can afford one? Who has a humongous crush on a certain Gundam Seed pilot?"

"Oh dear god," my son says, shaking his head.

Back at the house we look up The Video and, wow, it seems this Rickrolling thing is a YouTube phenomenon right up there with The Dramatic Chipmunk, World of Warcraft dances, and Fred.

We watch a news anchor get Rickrolled and a Rickroll at a girl's basketball game. There's even an Obama Roll (which is awesome, btw).

Seems there's also some dispute over how to write the term. For some it's Rickroll, for others Rick Roll. Oh, and my daughter informs me that the past tense is Roll'd not Rolled. There's just so much to learn.

After seeing Yoda shake it to Never Gonna Give You Up my son says, "I still can't believe you didn't know what a Rickroll was. I bet all your blogger friends know what it is."

So, how about it fellow bloggers? Did you know what a Rickroll was before you read this?

For myself, I really don't mind being behind when it comes to YouTube fads. As long as I have my Johnny Depp is sex on legs vid, I'm good.

Musing a.k.a. QuoteHunter catalogs great blogger sayings at Blogtations

P.S. Okay, okay, here's the one you're looking for. :)

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