If you see me at BlogHer

I’ve been blogging for about a year now (I’ll get those archive posts here in a few months) and since I began, I have wondered if I would ever be lucky & gutsy enough to go. Just one year into blogging, I’ve met some of the most amazing people; women that I consider my friends. Women that I know that I could tell my thoughts, hopes, dreams, fears, flaws & mistakes.

Friends.

In just a couple of weeks, I am going to meet these friends for the first time, face to face. I’m typically a very outgoing person – starring role in the school play, took drama and public speaking on purpose, and I’m always the one to engage in friendly conversation with the grocery bagger, elevator-buddy or kind old lady on the bus corner.

Meeting you makes me anxious, though.

We are all safe here, behind our respective computer screens. Though we micro-blog, blog and generally broadcast our every move, sharing intimate details about our lives, our families, and our feelings… we do so (mostly) behind a cloak of anonymity. For some, the cloak is thin – our true identities more easily revealed. For others, like myself, it is thicker, purposefully. Pseudonyms and private domain names exchanged for true names, local details erased, vague.

BlogHer, as you well may know, is a short period of time where that cloak is lifted. I will peek out from under it, to meet you, and to allow you to meet me. Just me. For better or worse.

I had a nightmare about BlogHer last night. I was forced to choose whether or not to go – choosing between a work trip and this conference. I had a co-worker/friend attempting to convince me to attend the work trip. I had Jenny, of Miss Grace’s Disgrace, convincing me to go with her, get drunk, and party. But the entire dream had a strange, dark feeling. A sense of danger, of sadness, of anxiety.

I know that deep down, I am terrified to meet each and every one of you. I hope that I can do a good job of hiding it, removing it, shoving it down, because I want to enjoy this. I need to enjoy this.

If you see me at BlogHer, there are a few things that you may or may not want to know. I doubt that you’ll remember these, unless you are one of my awesome, amazing roomies. Or perhaps one of my bestest blogging buddies. Nevertheless, here it is – the list that every blogger who is not attending BlogHer hates to see (and my apologies to you, if you are not going. You probably don’t want to read this. If you wanted to go, but can’t, may I direct you over to BlogHer @ Home? Great project, and from what I hear, the two lovely masterminds behind the project are doing their best to score you some amazing swag!)

• I have never traveled outside of New England, except for three trips to Florida to see my husband’s family. Yes, I am pathetic. I haven’t even been to all the states in New England, and I could drive there in a day.
• I am not at all afraid of flying, and intend to sleep on the flight over, which I will be boarding at 8 effing AM on Thursday. Good lord, people. Do you realize how EARLY I am going to have to get up?
• I have been told that when I get excited, I tend to speak very quickly and very loudly. I may or may not have also been told that this is annoying. My sincerest apologies to you, as I will be excited for the entire three and a half days that I am in Chicago.
• I have a smartphone (T-Mobile G1) and I’m a bit addicted to it.
• I don’t have many nice clothes, though I will probably indulge in one or two purchases before I leave. Likely something from New York & Company, likely a skirt and a cute shirt or two. But I love me some jeans, and I am used to being in my sweatpants/pajamas by 7pm.
• I am not a great drinker. I’m pretty pathetic, and honestly a glass and a half of white wine and I am feeling it. I have been truly drunk only three or four times in my lifetime (short though it is, see next bullet) and may or may not get drunk at BlogHer. I don’t think I will embarrass myself, unless falling asleep wherever I stand at the end of that third margarita counts as embarrassing. In that case, I’m fucked.
• I’m 24 years old.  I realize that many of you are older than I am. Most of my bestest blogging buddies are older than I am. All of them, in fact, I believe. I’ve been told that I carry myself well for my age, and that I’m quite “mature”, but I also get a lot of “You’re only 24? And you have two children? And you’re married?!” Usually the next assumption is that I got pregnant, then married. That seems to give folks a certain impression of my life. Let me set you straight here: that is not the case. Cupcake is three and we’ve been married over four years. Math, people, math! ::wink wink::
• I will buy you drinks all night if you come to a karaoke bar with me.
• I’m a hugger. And a kisser of cheeks. And a slapper of asses.
• I will probably be wearing makeup, but in real real life, I usually forget to put it on.
• When am watching something intently, be it a seminar speaker or a movie, I tend to get this look on my face that people describe as “pissed”. I am not, in fact, “pissed”, according to either definition¹ ².
• I enjoy coffee in the morning, but not so much in the afternoon. Coffee in the evening is fine by me, though. The caffeine doesn’t bother me or keep me awake. So, midnight Starbucks run? I’m in!
• I really do love technology, and I really am a total geek. Forgive me if I ramble. Occupational hazard!

This list hardly prepares you for the potential train wreck that might be me that weekend, as I’ve never traveled that far by myself, never traveled by myself period, and will also be away from both my husband and my babies, voluntarily, for the first time since being married/their birth. Yes. I will try not to cry too loudly into my pillow at night.

If I do begin to cry uncontrollably, you can easily distract me with the following things:

• Shouting, “Hey, look! A new post on Gizmodo!”
• Saying nonchalantly, “Is that Eliza Dushku over there?”
• Asking “Would you like to sing the soundtrack from Wicked with me?”

In any case, I am excited. A bit anxious, a bit nervous, but it will surely be an experience, whatever that means. If you’re going, I look forward to seeing you there. Really.

And I promise, I’ll post an updated picture so you can find me! 

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¹ pissed (p?st)
adj.   Vulgar Slang

1. Extremely irritated or angry. Often used with off.
2. Chiefly British Intoxicated; drunk.

² probably. As I noted earlier, I am not very good at drinking, so if I’ve had a glass of wine or an Amaretto & Diet Coke (drink of choice), I may, in fact, be pissed.