7/13/2017

Blogging Elephants Stories

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This. This. This! Go ahead, read it, I'll wait until you're back.

Back? It's good, right? It made me think of you.

I remember when the Blog Scene was full of badass women who would circle around you when shit went down. I remember when the Internet was somehow smaller, in 2003 and 2004 when the babies were born with our blogs and our community. I remember when I was so naive as to be honest and raw on a public forum about postpartum depression and a new daughter that Would Not Ever Fucking Sleep. I remember when you understood this and gathered around with your encouragement and your own stories of non-sleeping babies and crying on the bathroom floor.

That era of innocence is gone in a sense. There is more to this community now, it's bigger and full of marketing and click bait and blogs claiming that blogging is over. It doesn't need one more blog post about blogging (Oh, the irony). What it does need is a gentle reminder that there is now an even greater need to circle together, to rally, to hold our sisters' vulnerability with care and have their back because right now, with the whole world watching, it's very much obvious nobody else will

When we lose someone from our community, that time before The Internet Blew Up  (you know, back in 2009?) we see the impact blogging has had on our lives. We remember together. We become intertwined again, for a short time, showing up for each other and looking back at photos and times of shared vulnerability. And then, as it is and will always happen, we get pulled to the present moment and shift focus to the Now. Great! YES! We should be living in the Now. That is exactly where we are supposed to be. 

4/8/2011

BlogHer 2011: a usual recap Travel

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The Perfection of Imperfect.

It can be overwhelming here. BlogHer can cripple those with a great self esteem. There are so many women, so many pitches, so many places to feel left out and alone in a sea of thousands. There are women with the right outfit, the tight ass, the amazing cleavage. There are people who print the highest quality business cards, carry their elevator pitch ready at a moment, who say all the right things.

Then there’s us.

To me Lotus is my BlogHer 11. We wear comfortable clothing and flip flops. We walk around with armpit sweat and unwashed hair. We don’t wear a pedicure. We don’t have the fancy business cards or elevator pitches and it we don’t even possibly pretend. We come as we are: raw, creative, expressive.

My brush, literally, with fame (a blogHer tale) Stories

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**April, 2013** Hello and welcome! If this is your first time here, I’d love to meet you. I’ve recently written about being diagnosed with Adult ADHD, spent much of last year traveling and went back to work full time as a Program Manager for Media at a large global company. My children are 8 and 6 and I love talking to people with similar stories. Be sure to say hi and pull up a chair. I’ll grab the coffee. (Or tea for my UK friends with milk and sugar.)**


I walked in to the keynote, searching the thousands of faces to find “my people.” I wonder in and out of tables bumping in to elbows and computers. I recognize a few features but I continue to bump, walk, bump, walk looking for my table.

I spot the table of women more familiar than their pictures or email addresses. Vivaciously, as only I am known to do, I yell out, “There are MAH BEESHES! Wuz up Mothah Fuckahs!” I glance around the table taking in each face that I adore. I see Angie, Dawn, Molly, Shonda, Sam and Karen and…. who’s this? I don’t recognize the lovely lady in the red hair so poised next to my flamboyant friends. “Hi! I’m Mrs…” It hits me about the same time Angie pipes up, “This is Ree Drummond? THE PIONEER WOMAN.”

There is a silence and my mouth hits the floor.

I stumble over to hug her, gush, possibly lick her feet. She says in her polite southern accent, “I was just admiring your belly.” I laugh as she touches my two year postpartum belly. “This?” I exclaim, “This is old left over from before.” I can tell she feels bad. She recovers and says, “At least yours is in the front, mine is all in the rear.”