It’s My Party…

Today marks the 2 year anniversary of this blog.

Yay!

It also happens to be the day that my most favorite of favorites, my stylized songbird and muse, Ms. Amy Winehouse has died.*

*sigh*

Amy was my Elvis. She was my Madonna. She was my living Jeff Buckley because upon first hearing them both I can remember thinking things would never be the same for me and music. Now I can only hope that she and Jeff are somewhere making some other world happy with their sounds because this one has officially been deprived.

I was a little too young to have felt the direct impact when Kurt Cobain died but I liken the feeling I have is similar to the one all his fans felt when they knew he was gone for good. No more music, no more stories, no more knowing that even if they never performed or made an album ever again, that at least they were out there having a life and being their own unique artist and individual just by being alive.

I tried to explain to the bee how I felt, but mainly I just felt stupid. A 28 year old girl, woman, person whatever, feeling shaken and dispossessed by the loss of someone I had a connection to only in my mind.

I half-jokingly referred to my sadness over her abrupt loss as a state of “EverMourn”. As though I would forever be mourning the loss of her. He laughed and said maybe a better name for my situation was to refer to it as “MournHouse”.

Funny, appropriate, and yet just… *deep breath and… SIGH*

So that’s it. It’s my party and I could cry if I wanted but instead I think I’d rather just remember her as she was meant to be and never, ever, ever forget how amazing it was for the short time we had.

artwork by Reece Ward

*If you’re seeing this in your RSS reader or email or whatever thingy or device you use to view infrequently updated websites and you’re thinking “Hmmmm, this news is old…” Congratulations! You would be right. No, I haven’t been living under a rock for the past month, I’m just really really inconsistent when it comes to blogging anymore and generally lazy and wayward. I felt like publishing this now, so I did. My apologies. That is all.

It’s not a hit, it’s a holiday…

I’m not entirely sure why I can’t seem to keep up with this blog but I can’t. I just cannot seem to muster up the strength to do much anything creative anymore.

*****

It’s been a strange few months. Lots of changes in lots of ways. Finally made it through the winter and now full steam ahead into the burgeoning spring. It seems there’s reason once again to get up in the morning. With temperatures high enough to allow the fresh air to sail through the screen door once more I actually find myself making way to areas of the world that don’t exist solely within the confines of my house.

The bee has a new job and works long, late hours. Because I’m so ridiculously co-dependent that means that my schedule has taken a shift of course as well. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, just a different thing.

You would think this would mean I’d have all that much more time to spend writing and being creative blog-wise but I’ve found myself seeking out joy and solace in catching up on books I’ve always meant to read and leisurely but methodically learning how to play the guitar.

There was a time when I thought I could have been a “good” blogger. Now I know that was just a hazy pipe dream. It’s kind of sad to admit but it’s also OK. Not everyone can be everything they want to be all the time. Still, I continue to hold onto the hope that I can be something someday.

I’ve just started to realize that the sweeping ribbon of emotional rollercoaster highs and lows in my life can actually manage to balance themselves out if given some time and self-determination. After leaving my job in October and going on with life without medication I decided it was probably important for me to document my moods to gain a better understanding of what all this internalized mania means.

I began to keep a journal. A diary, if you will. Entires are sporadic but frequent enough, I hope, to help me in the future when I begin to somersault into the dark unknown as I’m biologically prone to do.

I don’t know what exactly is to become of this blog but this admission of a decided lack of focus and motivation isn’t necessarily a towel thrown down in defeat.

*****

There’s a great song from a great band that keeps playing itself over in my head lately:

No one wants to pay to see her happiness
No one wants to pay to see her day-to-day
And I’m not buying it, either
But I’ll try selling it… anyway

I love the hypocrisy of the lyrics. I live them all the time. I claim to hate the internet; its over-saturation in our culture but I’d be lying if I said I don’t check my phone hourly for email and that I don’t consult the web for practically every question I can’t answer with my own under-utilized mass of grey matter.

I tell myself that I should desert blogland, just do it, find some other way to feed my ego that isn’t so self-indulgent but then who would hear my furious cries for attention?!

I find myself thinking about how much I need it especially while absent from it. There’s a lot of uninspired twaddle plastered on the internet; this post only failingly aspires to be something more. Even still my lack of enthusiasm for my own creativity is just pure laziness. Doing nothing is almost always easier than doing something.

And my writer’s block? It don’t mean shit. I just need to throw it against the wall and see what sticks…

Free Stuff! Giveaways! RAH-RAH-RAH!!!

You may remember a few months back when I showed off an adorable crocheted clutch made by my dear friend Kate who has a fabulous Etsy store. Now she has an equally awesome Art Fire store where she sells many more of her handmade creations and she’s having a GIVE-AWAY!!!

Do you KNOW what that means?

Well, it means that all you have to do is head over here and leave a comment and that will put you that much closer to winning this crafty crochet chain link headband:

And what’s better than free stuff?!

Nothing.

Except getting paid to do nothing which I’m finding is a really difficult industry to break into…

So hurry on over and leave a comment! Drawing ends January 31st.

YAY!

I’m *back*?

The only thing I’ve been able to write in the last month and a half seems to be in the form of lists. Grocery lists, holiday shopping lists, lists for thank-you cards that needed to be sent out a month ago. Those sort of lists. I also wrote this list so that’s something too.

I guess.

Then I started to think that was a part of my problem. I was using list-making as a crutch and couldn’t get creative unless I just stopped making them. So THEN I think to myself: “What is the OPPOSITE of making lists? I KNOW! A photo montage of my cat depicting the events that have unfolded since I last wrote here!”

And here it is:

Things were blurry at first…

Actually it was like that for a WHILE…

So I thought I should look for guidance from the great wise window…

But I didn’t really like what it had to say so I got outta there…

And decided maybe it was best if I just sat back and relaxed for a bit instead…

Even still, It was undeniable that I was a bit blue…

So I looked toward the fire for comfort…

But I soon tired of that, so I took a nap…

After so much sleeping, I had become paranoid so I thought it best to hide…

But then I felt guilty so I chose to ease my mind by getting some work done…

Until THEY showed up…

Which only served to make me MORE paranoid. So it was back into the box for me…

And then, before I knew it… It was CHRISTMAS! I love Christmas. Very tasty…

All was well until I realized that Christmas isn’t all about joy and the deliciousness of tiny fake trees. Sometimes it’s just humiliating…

I guess it’s true what they say about nothing being easy…

and I’ve still got a helluva long way to go.

HAPPY CAT-YEAR ERREYBODY!

See you soon?

I Can’t Write. Right Now.

I think about things to write about and then I think about them again.

Eventually I over-think it all until my thoughts and ideas and plans for written creativity are nothing more than over-processed pulp lying uncomfortably under the magnifying glass of my ever scrutinizing eye.

I like to write. I do. Better yet: I want to like to write. For a while now it’s felt less like fun and more like this is some daunting task that I must complete. I will near episodes of total breakdown before I finish a post and after I’ve poured my heart and soul (and usually countless hours) into it I just feel exhausted and doubtful that it was even worth all my tireless efforts.

I blame this on my being OCD. By the time Wednesday (because for whatever reason, the crazy in my head tells me that if I’m only going to post once a week then it’s got to be on Wednesday. Uh huh. Yeah…) each week rolls around I start the mental melt-down process where I panic about what I’m going to write. It almost always starts to come together; usually at the last-minute, but it gets done, nonetheless.

When I was working I needed this outlet to quell the mania that was sure to rise were I not to find some outlet to plug it into. My job was a vehicle for my unhappiness and in efforts to avoid a crash course for total self-destruction I would find solace in the written word. It wasn’t any easier really, probably a lot less so, but when I had something accomplished on my blog then I felt, at the very least, well – accomplished.

Nowadays, just being on the internet gives me a case of the howling fantods and I look for excuses to do anything else: Toilets need a-cleanin’! Who’s for a round of scoopin’ kitty litter?

The internet has lost its charm for me. At least for now. Don’t get me wrong; when it comes to the people of the internet I don’t have a problem. In fact, I love a lot of the internet folk I’ve come across in the short amount of time I’ve been active in this “blogger” function. It’s what the internet does to people (myself so totally included) that I don’t like.

Facebook and Twitter and Flickr! Oh – No.

Since I’ve had some time away from an office cubicle I find myself having more time to do the things that I never had time for in the past: going for walks, reading books, spending time with people (in real life!), cleaning more often than every other month, organizing my life (that’s the OCD again) and more than what the tasks are, it’s about the fact that it genuinely makes me happy doing them.

I feel like all this might sound a lot more dramatic than intended. I also feel like this is sounding more like a note to myself than to anyone else but I suppose it just is what it is.

I don’t really know what this whole declaration means other than I’m stepping back for a while. Indefinitely? I don’t know. The holidays are approaching and I must say that I anxiously await them, more so than I have in a long time.

To put it simply: life’s priorities have changed for me. My focus has shifted elsewhere for now and I’m just looking forward to a new adventure.

Wherever it takes me.

A Day in the Life

When I decided to leave my job I figured it would give me an overwhelming amount of free time to write and take pictures and just be generally creative. I thought at this point I would have created so much amazlingness that I would need to tell myself to slow the hell down and just relax already. Instead I find myself unable to wake before 10 and then frantically running around all day in the hopes that I can get something worthwhile accomplished. Most days lots gets done, just nothing worth mentioning.

Or IS it?

Since I’m unable to come up with anything original, I’ll just give you a basic rundown of a day in the life:

12:37 AM – Wake up on the couch with intense neck pain after dozing off while watching something uninteresting on the TiVO (probably Chuck since I don’t find any humor on that show save for Morgan but the bee begs to differ because he just loves it. choose your battles wisely, people.)

12:38-12:41 AM – Attempt to rouse a sleeping bee from the sofa, at first with sweetness and love, whispering things like “Hey, sleepy. It’s late, let’s go to bed, OK?”. When that inevitably doesn’t work and I’ve paced the room for the next few minutes after multiple futile attempts to wake his comatose ass it becomes “FINE! I’m going to bed, with or without you. You can sleep out here, ALONE, where it’s scary and there’s no one to protect you. Good luck.” Within moments a groggy bee will rise as late-night threats of impending fear and abandonment will almost always work in your favor.

4:23 AM – Wake to the sounds of “A-BANG-A-BANG-A-BANG” coming from the weird, dwarf-sized, pseudo-closet underneath our bed where the cat has decided for the umpteenth time to try to see if he can exit through a set of unnecessary double doors that lead only to a wall. Directly under our heads. Where we sleep at night.

This is then followed by the “SCRITCH-A-SCRITCH-A-SCRITCH” when the stinker realizes that his first tactic wasn’t completely fortuitous so he’s moved to the set of drawers built into our weird elevated bunk bed in the hopes that THIS will wake us up so we can git on down thar and play with his fuzzy little monkey butt.

4:24-5:05 AM – Unsuccessfully bargain with a cat, pleading for a decent nights sleep and some peace and quiet if he would only just let us have it: “Just two more hours, buddy. Then we play with flying string-feather alllllll day, OK?” which quickly turns into “WOULD YOU SHUT UP YOU HELL SPAWN JUST BE QUIET GODDAMN IT I’M LOSING MY MIND YOU JERK I SWEAR TO GOD I’M GONNA KIL…” until, finally, the cat gets bored with this charade and resumes sleeping peacefully wherever it is he wants to sleep and we are forced to separate (as it seems to be the ONLY way he’ll ever give us peace), one of us staying in the bed while the other mans the pull-out in the living room where we both end up passing out miserable and overflowing with rage.

Let me just say: It’s awesome.

VS.

note the slight shift in location and the subtle difference in eyelid presentation in both photos. i mention this because these things matter little. in either instance he is ready to take your sleep schedule and make it his bitch.

7:35-8:05 AM – I half-wake to the sounds of the bee getting ready for his day at the office. I remain barely fazed by his knocking about the house  and only regain consciousness again briefly as he stops to give me a kiss goodbye before he leaves the house.

I’m not gonna lie. I’m a huge fan of that part.

9:56 AM – I awake to the sound of “Meeeeeeer, meeeeer” and a little orange face staring up at me from the floor telling me to get the hell up already because he’s hungry, so let’s get this party started. This is closely followed by the “Bzzzzzzp, bzzzzzzp” of my phone which is the bee texting me to get the hell up already because he’s bored, so let’s get this party started.

10:02 – approx 1:30 PM – I begin frantically running about the house in attempt to get things done. I start by putting the kettle on for tea and feeding the cat while I work on straightening up the house because, for whatever reason, collectively we manage to make a mess of things on a daily basis so much so that each morning I have to turn the bed back into a couch or rearrange furniture that was moved to provide sufficient space for the flying string-feather obstacle course or, you know, because I am highly OCD and I just have to. During this time I will also drink my tea, eat my breakfast and manage to make myself feel sub par for not having accomplished more in the way of actual “work” all while sitting in the same dirty pajamas that I’ve worn all week. (that last part is more statement of fact than complaint because I LOVES me the time in my dirty ‘jams)

1:31-4:12 PM – Commence freaking out because it’s almost 2:00 and that’s when the bee goes on lunch which means he’s gonna call me and ask what I’m doing. Also, because technically I think I’m supposed to eat again but that’s so much work and I really don’t have the motivation but I better do it anyway because otherwise I’ll get yelled at (see: the bee). It’s around this time that I realize that I still haven’t managed to do the dishes from the night before and it never ceases to amaze me that no matter what the meal and regardless that it’s just the two of us we still have a towering mound of crap in the sink on a daily basis to deal with.

Also? I should probably shower. It’s been a while. Oh yeah, and the teeth. Still haven’t brushed the teeth.

4:15 PM – Decide that just brushing the teeth and putting on real clothes should be good enough in the way of grooming for the day. Attempt to go online and read-up on blogs and maybe get some writing done. This never happens. Instead I find that Don’t Tell Mom The Babysitter’s Dead is on Cinemax for the 11th time this week so I should probably watch it again because I’M RIGHT ON TOP OF THAT ROSE.

5:30 PM – The bee arrives home and any prospect of writing goes out the window. I’m totally fine with this. At least I will be until tomorrow morning (see: 1:35-4:12 PM) when I’ll just make myself feel guilty for being unproductive again. We catch up on the day’s happenings and the bee complains about some shitty thing that happened at his shitty job and I nod and roll my eyes because I totally get it and then I tell him about how fucking crazy MY new boss is. And he’ll do the same because he knows the deal with that too.

6:45 PM – We decide that we should probably start to think about what it is we might want to eat for dinner. Considering the time we look in the fridge to realize we only have 2 week old baked beans and some white-slime coated hot dogs and since it’s too late to defrost anything “real” in the freezer we realize we need to choose from the only two options left: Wendy’s or McDonald’s. Lately Wendy’s wins out since they have those new salads. You know the one’s with the nuts and cheese and berries? Yep, tooooootally love those. Have I mentioned I should be in sales?

7:55 – 10:15 PM – Return from Wendy’s and begin scarfing down dinner while watching hours of mind-numbing television programming. Remember all the things I had wanted to do during the day but didn’t and then realize that I’m just going to have to do all those things TOMORROW and I begin to panic. I don’t handle stress well. At all. So instead of beginning to relax and enjoy my time with my husband in a low-key laid-back scenario I start to obsess and voice my worry about all my shortcomings and past failures as a human. This makes for really shitty T.V. viewing. Thank god for TiVo. Again: sales?

10:30-ish – Regardless of what is happening, I begin to lose my ability to maintain consciousness. We could be in the middle of playing Dance Dance Revolution and the indefatigable need to just “go lay down for a minute” would sweep over me and that, my friends, is usually where I completely check-out. Sometimes I can pretend like I’m still with it enough to carry on a conversation or, at the very least, add commentary to something seen on T.V. but the truth is, anything after 10:45 for me is 100% auto-pilot which brings us right back to where we started.

Basically I’m just a manic-depressive, obsessive-compulsive, slightly neurotic, unemployed, over-sleeper with less than stellar hygiene, who loves her freak-show of a cat even though he’s *this close* to getting thrown out a window if he wakes her up again with his one-man-band percussive late-night music hour, with a very unhealthy relationship with fast food who really needs to get dressed and put on some make-up. Like now. It’s either that or cover up this pimple with my finger forever.

I went to BlogHer and all I got was…

a(n all TOO) close encounter with irritable bowel syndrome, an inflated inferiority complex and my period.

Before I get into the moment by moment break down of my conference experience I think I should first preface this post by saying any and all general negativity derived cannot really be blamed on any one or thing other than myself.

This experience taught me, if nothing else, that I am not a particularly good social networker, either on or offline and although I think I might possibly one day be an a’ight blogger, I will never be anything close to an “elite” persona because it’s just. not. me.

I am pretty sure my perspective of the conference was different from that of most attendees. I didn’t stay at the hotel or attend any of the keynotes or parties. 

Because of this?

I’m pretty sure I missed out on a large chunk of the experience. Again, nobody’s fault but my own. From the beginning I wasn’t really interested in attending parties or the immersing myself in the overwhelming social aspect of this event.

In retrospect, I guess that was my first mistake since so much of BlogHer is about hobnobbing and gettin’ down during off-hours.

*sigh*

Let’s do this shall we?

I start Friday morning off fairly well. I get up, have my coffee, get dressed and I’m actually out the door ahead of schedule!

We-ow!

My main goal is to attend all the available sessions so I can gain as much how-to-be a better blogger tids and bits as logistically possible.

There is a welcome breakfast followed by something called “Speed Dating, BlogHer-style” that I’m not all that keen on making it to NYC in time for. Knowing what I know now, my lack of interest in activities such as these should have probably been an early sign to me that I wasn’t going to get as much from this conference as countless others BUT I’m stubborn, so on we go…

Everything is going according to plan, I’m in the car driving up the turnpike, listening to a little Rilo Kiley for inspiration and good vibes when ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL of a sudden… my innards start shouting Mayday! and I have nary a floatation device at hand.

If you know what I’m saying…

I’m talking this is the WORST and I do mean The. Worst. stomach pains I’ve ever had so far away from a toilet in-my-entire-life. I don’t have much recourse here but to take deep breaths and pray to a god I’m not so sure gives a shit about my GI problems.

The severe pains persist all the way through the Lincoln Tunnel up into Manhattan.

Have I mentioned that at this point I have fallen a bit off course and I’m now stuck in traffic on a street I shouldn’t have turned down in the first place?

Because I am.

So I get to the Hilton with some time to spare and I ruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuun to the bathroom where next to nothing happens. That’s right. Next to nothing. Let’s leave it at that. So whatever, I’m still on schedule and I didn’t crap my pants.

The first session is O.K. Kind of vague and over-generalized and initiate my feelings of inferiority in this particular atmosphere.  It’s at this point where I first start to fear that: I do not belong.

Lunch feels like something out of the first day of highschool; shuffling my way into a large room cautiously glancing about for the sight of a familiar, or at least non-hostile, face.

I begin to feel as I often do when stressed and unsure: not hungry.

After lunch, or as I had – half of a 1/5 of a sandwich and 2 pieces of watermelon, I skip outside to partake in an activity often used as a crutch, security blanket or just plain god-awful but for whatever reason, unavoidable, addiction: smoking. I’m not proud to say that I still use cigarettes as a social tool but I never said I was perfect. Anyway, thank GOD for smoking because that’s where I start to feel the natural ease of fraternization return.

I often use the term organic when referring to situations that unfold in a natural, unforced way. I hate being fake or feeling fake or pressured to “perform” in order to adapt myself to large social settings.  I’m not in the business of getting people to like me under false pretense. I am who I am and unfortunately (for me) that means I’m not all that marketable, at least not to those who aren’t willing to break through my crunchy exterior and the find the warm and gooey mess that lurks beneath my crackly shell.

Try not to take that last part too literally…

I did meet one person who seemed up to the challenge of my (apparently) prickly personality though I doubt I made a huge splash with most of the other folks at the conference. I’ve always been that person who is often pigeonholed as snobby or aloof when really I just hate small talk. Is that SO wrong?

Ugh. It is isn’t it?

So, instead of fitting in or making friends right off the bat, I usually come off as a strange awkward alien or I just make unintentional enemies. The honest to god truth is that of the (very few) people I am still friends with since my childhood I can’t think of a single one who upon first knowing me who just did NOT like me. Then again, I am a shitty friend so, I guess I fooled THEM!

foolish, FOOLISH, sucka...

So day one is over and I leave feeling at least a little better now that I had found ONE person who seemed to not want to flee in terror from my presence. I get seriously lost on my way back to the Lincoln Tunnel due to my having absolutely NO sense of direction (thanks, Dad!). I finally make it home, just a lot later than I should have.

Day two’s drive is EXPONENTIALLY better than day one, with no almost-exploding-bowel-syndrome or inconvenient slow-motion tours down 7th Ave.

On a Friday.

During rush hour.

Because that was fun.

I meet up with my new friend for a smoke before the first sessions of the day and already feel better than I did the day before.

*objects in this picture are not as close as they seem. (i'm pretty sure my camera was on 20x zoom or, as I like to call it, super-stealth-stalk-mode a.k.a. i'm way too embarrassing to actually go up to her and ask for a real picture so this will have to do)

I attend the session with Jenny the Bloggess, mainly because I think she’s cute and hilarious and a complete and total inspiration to me as both a blogger and a humorist and she proves to be all that and more. She is probably even more cute and funny in person even though I never thought it humanly possible or particularly fair to the rest of us. There are numerous times she has the crowd lol-ing in their seats and at one point I’m thinking someone might misconstrue the literal SCREAMS of laughter for screams of slaughter.

Apparently no one else was all that concerned…

As far as day two of the conference, this is the highlight of my day. Aside from lunch, that is. The rest of the sessions leave me feeling *kind of* depressed. I begin to feel more and more out of my element as the day wears on and being that it’s the bee’s birthday my mind is most definitely elsewhere.

I swear that in writing about this experience it was not my goal to bad-mouth or bash BlogHer. It just wasn’t really the right fit for ME. Had I been a bit more immersed in “the scene” or been a mom, or more of a business oriented woman of tomorrow, it may have been more impactful. In a good way. Instead I just felt like I didn’t belong. It wasn’t until Saturday afternoon that I discovered this thing called “Birds of a Feather” where you sign up on a list to sit with/meet like-minded bloggers.

Had I known about this sooner, I probably would have exchanged a lot more business cards…

All in all it was a learning experience and I did walk away with a lot more knowledge than I had to begin with but more than anything I learned that I just don’t belong with the BlogHer crowd. In a few years time? Perhaps. I think I would benefit from a smaller blogging offline network, one where I wouldn’t feel like SUCH a small fish in an all-encompassing ocean of internet experience and clique-ish-ness.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhh yeah. I went there…

I want to wrap this up by saying that in almost every way BlogHer lived up to the expectations I set around it before I ever set foot in the Hilton. I knew it would be clique-y and miles above my head technically and professionally. The problem that I had was BlogHer didn’t exceed my expectations, which I had so hoped it would and probably all of us hope will happen no matter what situation we’re thrown into.

And, yet again, whose fault is this?

***please point fingers in direction of computer screen***

probably, definitely not worth it…

Perhaps you noticed that there was no new “Bee-ject’s” post this past weekend?

Orrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, not. 

Either way, the-bee-weekly-reject-picture-posts are being put on an indefinite hiatus.

Now, before you turn into an inconsolable bleary eyed rage-ball that throws their hard drive through the window screaming “WHY INNERNETS, WHY?!!!“, this (possibly permanent) loss doesn’t mean that the bee won’t continue to document his daily picture-taking project on his blog (even though he’s been like SERIOUSLY lax with posting regularly. again, i implore you to go visit his site and leave him a strongly worded comment in ALL CAPS so maybe, just maybe, he snaps out of it).

ANYWAY…

Life is complicated and busy and I can relate to not being able to meet every single self-imposed deadline no matter how much I might want to. I’m still anticipating the stress and doubtless crippling social-anxiety that will afflict me at next week’s BlogHer conference, but I’m doing my best to take things in stride. Due to that, posting will likely be light for the next week or so while I gather the strength/attempt to re-wire my nerves so that I might function like a “normal” human being in a massive social-networking group jam session.

Or whatever…

In my last BlogHer freak-out post I mentioned my lack of excitement over the prospect of designing a business card for the BlogHer ’10 event. However, it appeared to be a necessary evil so I sucked it up and did it. Here’s what I came up with:

I’m sharing this with you now because maybe you’re not going to BlogHer and you’re just really interested in how I pretend to be successful and “grown-uppy” (not sure how grown-up vomiting cats are but, whatevs). Even if you are going and we actually do end up meeting at the conference, I’m not entirely sure I’m going to have the guts to hand these out. I guess this is due, once again, to my persistent lack of self-esteem and the shitty school of thought that repeatedly pokes me in the brain saying “What makes you think anyone cares about YOUR stupid blog, huh?!” which, clearly, isn’t doing me any favors.

An area of self-deprecation that I am, no doubt, deserved of is being a hopelessy hopeless loser-faced procrastinator. Although procrastination tends to serve me well since I tend to thrive under the pressure of last minute-ness it RARELY helps me out in the frugality department.

Take these business cards for instance…

I found a reasonably priced outlet to create the card, uploaded my own design, bing-bang-boom, move on to check-out only to find that the cards would likely arrive AFTER the conference.

Shit.

Thankfully they had an expedited option which promised delivery within 3 business days! Too bad the cards were now going to cost me DOUBLE what the original quote was.

Now, had I just ordered them a week earlier I could have saved myself a good heap of cash. So, by early next week, I should have in my possession 250 custom business cards that likely won’t get much more action than getting carelessly jammed into my bag and if they’re lucky they’ll spend some time between my two front teeth in lieu of a more common pesky food eradication device.

Which makes me think the expedited shipping was probably, definitely not worth it.

It’s also hotter than a sub-Saharan monkey’s butthole (and no, i have no idea what this means, if it’s true or even geographically possible. i just like the way it sounds) up in here and even Stinky is feeling the heat.

His desire to be as close to me as humanly possible at all times seems to be outweighed by his need to maintain a healthy body temperature so his innards don’t start to liquefy which means he’s been alternating sitting on my lap and sitting on the floor inches from my desk chair all morning.

and that's not to say what his super-furry heat-conducting-ultra-lap-warming-self is doing for my already sweaty nether-bits. TMI?

a brolondringe-ish nest of significant mystery and intrigue…

First things first.

Friday will mark the one year anniversary of this ol’ girl on the interwebz, blog stylee… aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand this here post is entry number one-hundred-and-the-first for (me) and the bee. 

That’s all something worth celebrating, right? 

So, what better gift to get just days before but my very own custom-made Forest Campfire Clutch from my fan-tabulous friend Kate’s awesome Etsy store!!! 

it even goes with my chipped blue nail polish and rubber band bracelet!

As all former fake-redheads (who are too lazy/indecisive to touch-up their color so now it’s more of a brolondringe-ish nest of significant mystery and intrigue) know… 

green is a most complimentary color so I’m super happy with my clutch. 

It’s perfect for carrying some cash, your cell phone, lipstick and a mirror, except I wouldn’t keep any of THOSE things in mine. Instead I’d have my debit card which allows me greater spur-of-the-moment spending freedom while virtually negating the possibility of having to lend out cash to broke-ass hos. Nix the cell phone because who needs THAT burden? Keep the mirror, because I am vain, afterall. Just not “lipstick vain”, more like “has my uni-brow grown back?” vain. So, replace lipstick with tweezers and VOILA! you’ve got the essentials. 

Oh, and holy crap, y’all… 

Kate has made new stuff since the last time I featured her here! 

Like the Color Hysteria Clutch: 

She doesn’t know it yet, but I plan on putting Kate to work very soon because I’m buying everyone’s holiday gifts from her this year. 

I’m *thinking* you should too… 

Hopefully the bee won’t mind getting homemade dog treats in his stocking!

I B Freakin’

A few months ago I wrote about how I was still on the fence about going to BlogHer ’10. Long story short, I spent so much time straddling that damn thing that I missed my chance completely. Early bird registration came and went and then so did all the regular priced tickets. I figured it just wasn’t meant to be and even though I signed myself up for their waiting list I was secretly happy that I wouldn’t have to shell out a few hundo for the event.

As more time passed I started to think maybe my saving myself the money hadn’t been worth all that I would miss at the conference. As much as I’d like to envision myself as a Dooce or a Bloggess in 10 years time, I don’t know the first thing about blogging for bucks or even blogging all that well, so if I ever wanted to chase that dream, this was my chance.

As they often do, the fates aligned and I got my chance at BlogHer redemption. Reading through blogs (as I am wont to do during the work day) I came across a post that Mayopie wrote, offering up his 2-day conference pass that he no longer needed. Maybe BlogHer ’10 WAS meant to be after all! After a few days of back and forth emails the pass was mine and I was one step closer to world domination.

Given all that…

Can somebody please tell me why the reality of all this makes me want to upchuck my lunch?!

BlogHer is about 3 weeks away but already I feel like I’m going to be my normal awkward, anti-social self who will wish she could turn around and go home the minute she steps into the Hilton/find the darkest loneliest corner to hide in until it’s all over and OH GOD! What if somebody tries to talk to me?! Yaaaaaaaaaaaaghhhhhhh! but, Oh NO! What if NOBODY talks to me?!!! Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh…

How big of a mistake have I made by signing on for this thing?

I just read through the BlogHer ’10 “Checklist” of things to bring and things to do in preparation and let me tell you, it’s not making me feel any more relaxed. Especially the part about bringing a “Business card with your blog’s URL and/or Twitter handle”.

BUSINESS CARD?!

Why didn’t I think of this sooner?

Ugh.

I read a post that Schmutzie wrote on tips to consider when creating your business card which was actually quite informative but I’m at an impasse: what the hell kind logo do I create for my card when I can’t even decide what kind of blog it is that I have here?

Am I a personal blogger?

Yeah, kind of. I talk about my life to an extent but I don’t really get into grittier topics for good reason (Hi there, Mom! Dad! Gramm!) and I do hold a lot back that I would most definitely share if I were slightly more anonymous. I’ve got some killer stories that will forever stay on the shelf because some of the people involved actually read this blog and I’m not in the business of hurting anyone’s feelings or alienating the few friends I have left.

Am I a humor blogger?

Eh… maybe. SOMETIMES. Though I think some of my funniest stuff is often times unintentional.

Good thing? Bad thing? You tell me…

Am I a photo blogger?

On occasion. I like to take pictures and all but are there people out there that DON’T? Doesn’t that kind of make everyone a photographer? That’s a lot of competition, yo. How the hell do you make yourself stand out with that?!

I dunno. Maybe I’m over-analyzing all this and intensifying the negative (that is what I do best, after all) but in the year or so since I started blogging, I have not found a way to appropriately “brand” myself. Maybe it’s because I hate labels and trying to fit things into neat little compartmentalized categories even though I will still try to do it because of my own obsessive need for order.

Have I mentioned that being me is AWESOME?

The more I read about successful bloggers the more I hear that one of the biggest pieces to completing that puzzle is to find your unique niche or brand so you will stand apart from the rest. But what if you can’t? Does that determine imminent failure from the start?

I’d really love to hear some feedback on this subject. Are YOU going to BlogHer this year? Have you ever attended a BlogHer or like-minded conference? Are my biggest fears irrational at best or am I totally in the right for freaking the fuck out over this thing?