Blogher Envy -or not

I did not go to Blogher. I FELT like I was at Blogher because I stayed tuned to all of the goings-on through Twitter and felt involved in all of the drama that occured but I. Was. Not. There. And I was bummed. Bummed that I didn’t get to meet all of the blogelebrities (the name I’ve given to the “Her” bloggers who EVERYONE knows and wants to meet) that I dedicate my time to reading. Bummed that I didn’t get the excuse to go shopping for some hip new clothes for going out to all the cool parties that were thrown. Bummed that I didn’t get to learn ways to drive more readers and commenters to my blog and ask some of the well renowned bloggers how they’ve become so successful. Bummed that I didn’t get to make some new friends who have a new found passion for writing like I do and who are going through much of what I am.

But then I realized something… although I felt like that kid who couldn’t go to the huge frat party that was THE PLACE to be… I really don’t care. I don’t care if my blog has nine or thousands of readers (I’d feel pressure to write something so much better then!) because I love what I write about and love the two or three comments I get a week. I don’t care if I meet the bloggers that I read daily because if I didn’t like them then I’d have to stop reading them and that would be unfortunate. (I mean I’m sure if I met most of the actors that I THINK I adore I’d be sorely disappointed after meeting them and have a harder time enjoying them in the movies, right?). Plus, since I’m not in that inner circle of bloggers, I’m sure I wouldn’t have met them anyway. (cue Debbie Downer wa wa). I don’t care about buying new hip clothes to wear for women that I don’t even know. Especially since I’m not a blogelebrity and no one would have even noticed what I was wearing. And I don’t care if I didn’t get to meet other bloggers like me because I AM meeting them… just not in person. And that’s fine.
I’m really loving the new friendships that I’ve started forming through this crazy little thing I call my blog. It started as a way to just jot down the funny things my kids say and my funny ways of dealing with those funny things they say and now, it’s my creative outlet, my hour of peace, my “smoking break” from the daily craziness. I love that it’s mine. I love having it to look forward to. I love having it as a way to make and connect with new friends and as a way to let my current friends and family have a window to inside my head. It’s like when you first start playing golf. It’s just fun and relaxing when you first start because there’s no pressure to score well. And then the better you get, the more pressure you put on yourself and the less fun you have. A bad day on the golf course is just not fun. (Mind you this golf example is purely hearsay… enough of my family are golfers and I feel I have witnessed enough for me to infer what I’m writing about. Me, not a golfer.) I want my blog to stay enjoyable FOR ME. I don’t want the pressure of having thousands of people tuning in to read about my life and then really having nothing interesting to say. If I disappoint my handful of readers as it stands today… so. be. it.
Would I have had fun at Blogher? Hard to say. I may have felt like I was on the outside looking in. Wanting to be one of the cool kids but not quite getting there. Or I may have found my place and made some great friends. Who knows, but for now, I’ll stick to what I know and hopefully this time next year, when Blogher 201o roles around in my ‘hood, I’ll still be blogging away and maybe by then… you’ll be looking for me!

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2 Comments

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2 responses to “Blogher Envy -or not

  1. The NDM

    I hear you! I expect Blogher is a little like twitter with everyone shouting "Look at me! Read my blog! Look! At! Meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!". We could start our own in-crowd?

  2. Headless Mom

    You would have had a great time and met a couple hundred people that you loved. Seriously. I love new people to go-especially ones that I read!-so I can put actual voices and faces with names. The crap you're reading about was a very small portion of what it's about and can be easily avoided.

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