Words ARE Power

I mentioned that I had an opportunity to meet Karen Walrond. She photoblogs at Chookooloonks and uses it for much more than photos. I first found her because of Andrea Scher from Superhero Journal. Andrea is my personal dreaming Muse, an example of a person dreaming in action and sharing it every step of the way. I love this group of blogging women for their ability to harness and share their energy and I find endless inspiration in their message.

When I realized Karen was at the conference I got a little giddy and nervous. She happened to be part of the Friday night Gala event, a interactive party with stations for people to participate in the art showing. I love stuff like that, when we as viewer are drawn deeper into the experience via sharing. Karen was writing messages on the arms and necks and hands of women and I slipped into line to wait.


I was not having a good day. Bad hangover + city dwelling + nerves = Not so great. There was a woman in line ahead of me and I remember thinking I have to talk to someone or I am going to start sobbing (thanks to the Keynote, I had already released the floodgates). I asked her if I could take her picture while Karen wrote on her and she was lovely and said yes.




Her name is Dana, I discovered she has twins plus two more and I know now she is my friend for life and that it was no accident that I turned to her. She blogs at FeastafterFamine and absolutely shone under Karen's hand.





Then it was my turn and I got the hug I so desperately needed but when Karen asked me what I wanted on me I could only think....Shit, I am going to start crying. shit shit shit. Her energy is beyond and it was like a embrace from my mom and I could not find words.

Then she asked me what I like to do, what I am and I said .... "I make things". And that is what we went with. And by the last letter, I somehow felt better.




I had been telling people all day who had no idea what I do, where I blog, or who I am about my online space. I always just ended up saying, "Ah, I make a lot of stuff". Articulate, I know. But it was articulate when it was placed on my arm.



I did not stay much longer at the Gala. I grabbed a few more shots of the art and places that were set up so lovingly for us.










And then I scooted to the lobby to catch the train downtown. But before I was out I ran into Dana by the exit doors and we had a few more minutes to find that connection and acknowledge that we are part of the same tribe, I felt it click in my heart when the words " twins garden tribe cameras " tumbled out of both of our mouths.

And then I went back to my old neighborhood, my old apartment at 151 Ridge Street below Houston between B and C and I marveled at the gentrification of a place I once called home.







But that, my friends, is a story for another day.

(Just realized my one week in NYC has given me fodder for weeks and weeks of blogs posts.... sweet).

P.S :: If you have time please follow the link to the Community Keynight blog posts. They are literally stunningly breathtakingly good.

P.P.S :: The full Flickr set is HERE for Blogher10 FRiday.

Re-entry

When I arrived home last night my boys were asleep. I crawled into the queen size bed that they share and studied their sleeping forms, laying in abandon in that sweet limp state. They had arms intertwined and heads on the same pillow and I sighed at the deliciousness. I breathed in the air of home and settled.

This week has brought about a profound change to my life and this cannot be denied. As a result this space is likely to change and move deeper into directions I have been shy of exploring. Shy of claiming. Shy of sharing.

I had left NYC in '98, 22 years old and ready to say goodbye. That City, she can be a bitch. I walked back into that same pulsing energy that is NY last Wednesday and felt almost crippled as I found that 22 year old woman/child/me on every familiar street, every corner store. I felt acutely invisible, bereft of my Tribe, swimming in a sea of a city where I had once lived as a long-term (and somewhat reluctant) visitor.

The first two days were hell in many ways and I thought about getting on the plane back home more than once. But I came through to the other side, just in time to truly embrace the opportunity that was being presented. The City, she can be a bitch but she can also be a generous queen, offering unlimited contact and richness of Life.

I am going to honor my time there with several posts over the next few days... not always about Blogher.... I promise.

This next bit is about Blogher 10 :: Day One.

That is the Bloggess' shapely foot...this is devotion)

I met a rock star and showered with her, met my friend Ry Pepper (her real name...how freaking cool) and hung out in the bathroom and watched the Bloggess get her shoe licked (dude, people loooooove that woman. For good reason), met the Eden's Fantasies ladies who were planning a awesome sex session. It all sounds a little more raunchy that it was.

And then I ended the night at a small Brooklyn space called Vox Pop, listening to a woman play her lute while she graciously allowed me to take her portrait.

Here's the slideshow and the set link.



Upon reflection, I can say it was a good day.

Blogher 2010 :: The Amiee Experience

So, I just sat down to start writing my Blogher recap post along with thousands of other women who attended the event this weekend. And I realized I can pull it all into one sentence :: Blogher is what you make it. Blogher is whatever you are willing to let it be. (Lied, two sentences).

I was nervous as hell going in, I am not going to lie. But before the conference I had already decided the why of going this year; I had an agenda ::

1) Meet the Canadians. You may think I am kidding. I am not. I read a lot of our Northern friends and really wanted to use the time to put a physical presence to the amazing writer voices.

2) Learn about some 'techy' stuff. I am not a writer, a promoter, a sponsored or advert blogger. I am just Me, with my blog and my space and a desire to know more. So I looked through sessions and found ones that seemed to have solid information about stuff. That stuff turned out to be about design, processing photos and art.

3) Go to Mamapop's Sparklecorn extravaganza to shake my booty (and shake it hard).

And so that is what happened. I met Kate the first day and finally got to hug a woman I have read and cried for and laughed with and sighed over. And then we ended up getting ready for a party together and I had a chance to start to see what it is to meet a person we know from the flat screen become whole and rounded out and there. And I was not disappointed once this weekend with anyone I did get to meet and speak to and be with. (I still find the Kate thing a little surreal).

I went to the Canadian party where there were a lot of Canadians. It was cool. The man dressed as a Mountie was a little much.

I went to session where the founders of Kirsty and Design Sponge shared generously about their blog design, what they know of shaping the online space people see and read. And is was really good info (though I was viewing it through the fog of the free drinks from the Canadian party...thanks for that, O' revered Canadians). The panel also included Alex Vega, an actual web designer who was super informative, forward thinking and funny and (incidentally) she was totally hot.

I heard Ryan from Pacing the Panic room tell a group of women to "Take good pictures". And he was right. The best way to process a photo is in your eye and mind before you shoot or while you shoot, not in Photoshop. He also said "Know your camera". More good advice.

Karen Walrond wrote on my arm and though I was smiling in the pictures I was trembling inside...off balance and sad in a sea of women, missing my kids and home. But she wrote on my arm in bold and I ended up down in my old 'hood the LES and people kept telling me they liked my tattoo. It said "I make things". It almost made me want to go to a tat shop and make it permanent.

I also went to a panel that Karen facilitated and it was unbelievably good. She and two other women spoke about Art in the Blog spaces and shared generously and openly and we had a dialogue in that room that made me finally able to call myself an ARTIST. I do not say this lightly. It has never been a word I am comfortable using in reference to myself.

And then I shook my ass at the Sparklecorn Extravaganza which was like prom without the sausage. (Well, there were a few men...but it was all about the ladies). I am pretty sure there will be a picture of said shaking somewhere around someday.

I also loved the Keynote* which was a moving and special experience...through the listening I found a whole new set of bloggers to explore and read and enjoy. And I made a new friend named Ry Pepper who is a photographer that has created an online space to feature art that catches her eye and interest. She also rocks.

And that was my Blogher10 experience. I did not take swag (well, only the reusable stainless steel bottle that keeps unscrewing and pouring out all over the contents of my purse). I did not even go to the Expo hall where the swag was housed. I occasionally felt totally overwhelmed by the sheer amount of chatter so many women voices can create. I drank too much. I slept too little. I really really have to go through the photos.

Saturday night during Sparklecorn I stepped out of the party for a break from the action and ended meeting a lovely woman. We began talking about the conference and she asked me about my experience. She was open and engaged and a great listener so I told her. I told her what I liked about the conference and I told her what I did not like. Did I mention I was also drunk?

SO...... I really told her. Not in a negative way though because as we were speaking I was hearing my experience and this post was beginning to take shape. I glanced at her badge and noticed it said Staff. I asked her what she did for Blogher and she told me she helps with the conference. So we kept talking and talking and as we finished up our conversation, my heart totally finally getting why I went to this crazy loaded event, another woman who had been listening the whole time turned to me and asked me if I knew who this woman was. I knew her name was Elisa. That was what she told me. Turns out she is one of the co-founders of Blogher. Oh.

And you know what? I am so glad we had that talk. She listened and maybe there was something in there that she heard that will help guide the next experience of Blogher 11 one way or another. I can tell you I certainly felt seen and heard and understood by this woman.

Will I be going to the San Diego Blogher? Absolutely.

It is what you make it. And I might even be able to get a Canadian or two to stay at my house. Awesome.

* The Keynote was an evening event when 15 or so bloggers read their written words. The pieces read were picked via submission and review and voting. There was something about listening to them speak their words that was powerful and beautiful. I loved loved loved it.

* Pictures to come. I am still in NYC for a few more day. This has been a looooong trip with more than just Blogher but I had to bang this out before I forget it all in my sleep deprived, sweaty headed current state. I am more tired right now than I ever am at home with my kids. Whew.

To all my new people that I met via this weekend whirlwind, if you are here reading...hello, welcome, I will find you once I sort out the cards in my hand made felt card carrying (that I last saw in a jumble of some dirty clothes in my thrashed suitcase area.....) #donotwanttopack

Supported

Main Entry: 1sup·port
Pronunciation: \sə-ˈpȯrt\
Function: transitive verb
Etymology: Middle English, from Anglo-French supporter, from Late Latin supportare, from Latin, to transport, from sub- + portare to carry — more at fare
Date: 14th century

1 : to endure bravely or quietly : bear
2 a (1) : to promote the interests or cause of (2) : to uphold or defend as valid or right : advocate (3) : to argue or vote for b (1) : assist, help (2) : to act with (a star actor) (3) : to bid in bridge so as to show support for c : to provide with substantiation


This was quite a week. It began with my Mama’s admit to the hospital. I was so worried about the surgery despite the planning and preparation. I asked and you answered. And I felt lifted and supported and better. And now so does she.

And then there was the rest of the blog world and its interaction with my daily life. During the course of this week another controversial piece was published regarding blogging and I happened to take the time to read it. I usually don’t. But I listen to Neil and he listens to everyone and I was intrigued. So I read and browsed links here and there and came away with thoughts on it all, thoughts that I would usually just share with my husband (who is usually supremely uninterested but he has to listen, you know? Marriage vows and all).

It made me think again about the whole blogging thing and where I sit in relation to it all. There is always some chatter on Twitter about the ads, and people being ‘real’ writers, about profit and branding. I don’t think I read many big name bloggers because there is usually not much that speaks to me. I am not always sure of the who and what and when and how, all the nuances that are developing. Little peeks into the bigger world of blogs for profit have generated little interest on my part and I rarely read anything to do with parenting advice or product endorsement or media/politics. I have always gravitated towards the writers, those that afford views of the intimate, those that give small glimpses into lives well lived, those that create in creative ways. I find I return there again and again because they make me feel somehow….sometimes inspired, sometimes supported, sometimes just feel. But I do feel the tide that swirls around the edges of my reading choice, the controversy and hustle, the ideas of profit and professionalism.

I know each person that uses this medium chooses to write for their own reasons. Some because they need an outlet, some because it helps them support their family, some to follow others and some to show their leadership. There is an infinite amount of words out there, some use them skillfully, others seem to be fond of a sledge hammer approach. There are masters of wordage, intriguing warriors, ruthless entrepreneurs. And after reading for years and watching the change and all the crazy hype, I wonder sometimes how much it all really matters?

The ‘knickers in a twist’ generated by controversial topics take so much energy, you know? The people that love the drama always will and probably always have. We all thrive on different things.

I started really blogging when I asked for blessings on me and mine, 24 weeks pregnant with twins and in pre-term labor, so scared and worried and feeling alone. My contact with the world was my laptop and I was totally unsure of the medium, just lightly touching the world of blogs via knitting. I posted to a baby knitting blog asking for prayers from other expectant mamas and within minutes I received answers; women I had never met, mothers and grandmothers, all wishing well on those little floating people. It made me feel lifted and supported and better.

Over the years so much of it has changed, we all know that. But this week I asked and received again, just like that first time three years ago. People have drifted in and out of my ether, some have stayed the course through my meandering writing and topics. Some have even become my friends. And that makes me want to stay in this space a little bit longer, stay just as I am and how I am and ignore the background chatter that does not have to be my drama (but can be so fun to read from afar when it is juicy news).

I said that I would usually leave this rambling for Tim’s ears but today I felt like writing it out. I know so many of my folks have shifted their communication to other mediums and I miss them. And I think there is still good writing to be found, sometimes even ad free. And I wonder about you? Where do you sit in this odd world of blogging camps and communities if you sit at all? Do tell.

This post brought to you by a silly article, not enough sleep and the wonderful folks that left comments of love for my Mama this week. Copious thanks to the last.

LOVE 5 :: Mondo & Beyond

Friday, blessed lovely Friday. It means so much more since returning to work. This week was lovely and rough all at once, and I find on this Friday I sit here with a little twinge of sadness as I reflect on my love of the day.

Today? Today I love my class Mondo Beyondo. When I first heard the name, well, to be honest, it sounded a little over the top. I first read about Mondo Beyondo lists on Andrea's superb blog, Superhero Journal. That woman is a dynamic bit of a energy and goregeousness. She radiates goodness and it was what drew me to the course. I missed the first round, then the second, but signed up for the third as a birthday gift to myself. And I have not regretted a second.


What is it, you might wonder? I am not sure if I can give it justice nor can I say what it would be for another. For me, it was an instant reconnection with a inner self, one that felt a little timid of late. I found that girl, now woman, that did not hesitate to apply to college in New York, or drop a 'life' to go travel somewhere far, or call a friend...or reach a bit. The finding feels spectacular but still a little new, tender and processing.

I think what I realized with the help of the lessons and missions and ideas is that we are always more than the sum of our parts, that when we dream a little, we grow a lot. That being a little vulnerable and feeling some love are wonderful things. And I feel such a renewed vigor for things...things now and soon and long future forth.

The concrete things I am taking with me are a list (posted here if you care to read it), new friends that feel like they literally slid into that space where you were missing that last piece(s) to finish the border of that 1500 piece puzzle you are working on, and some very concrete steps to get to a few of the dreams.

Do we need dreams? I used to read a lot of Paulo Coelho (I used to read a lot, in a life long ago). I remember in The Valkyries he spoke to his wife at one point, told her to start her training by taking her focus to the horizon. Look up, gaze out, open yourself. Look up, look out, open you life. Have you ever tried it? It works. And this class was like Looking Up, Looking Out, and Opening Myself.

I have yet to feel all the benefits, yet to actually even finish reading this week's lessons and missions. But the ripple is in effect, it is taking its hold and that feels really good.


For you, my friends and readers, I would suggest you take a look if you feel the need for something, but cannot quite figure it out, or if you want to dream in color, or stretch your inner muscles a bit, or just work, work a little and play a little and be reminded that we live in a day and age where dreaming is allowed and even encouraged in some places.

I remember at the start of the course I was so nervous to reveal my list. I knew it what it would be as I was writing it. Not much on it surprised me, but I was totally surprised by how others responded. It is not often that an immediate dream is to literally live in a van down by the river. But in truth, I find I am happiest in transit, with moderate periods of settling. I am happiest as a gypsy, and that dream looks a lot closer than it did 5 weeks ago. And not one of my fellow dreamers laughed at me. I am hoping that you do not either.

So, today I love Mondo and the Beyond. It just looks so damn pretty from where I am sitting right now.

I have to add as I type this, I also really really love Graber olives. The kid and I just shared a whole can, the first food he has eaten with gusto in a week. If you are local, pick some up. They are beyond. And yeah, I am avoiding the thought of what a can of olives does on an empty stomach. Yeach.

The Great Interview Experiment

A few months ago I started reading a blog that was written neither by Mama or crafter, but by a real writer. I usually tend to stick to my kind, you know? But Neil makes me laugh, occasionally snort, and he really has a way with words. He takes the pulse of the Mommyblogging circle so well that I just read him and his tweets rather than plunge into the wider world out there.

This year he brought back an idea he tried last year. The premise is to interview another blogger, the line up determined by where you fall in the comments section and the questions all of your own making. I decided to give it a try and my blogger to interview happens to be a woman who lives not too far away, once lived East but now lives West and just happens to also be a writer. I found outreach in Blogland can end up leading one quite close to home. Here is my interview with TC, a Mama/writer/cook who blogs here and here.


I started blogging due a vibrant knitting community I found online. That community has changed over the last few years as did my blog when I became a Mama. I continue to write when I can with the content changing as life changes. What inspired you to begin blogging and has it changed for you over time?

To be honest, I can't even remember.

Well, I sort of can. I started blogging in the summer of 2003 at a blog I called Tiny Coconut. (It's still there at tinycoconut; I just don't update there any more because of a bunch of boring and confusing events that wouldn't be worth the time to detail.) Earlier that year, I'd had sort of a nervous breakdown/PTSD episode after one of my husband's ex-girlfriends really ramped up what had previously been a sort of low-level stalking. It had been a ridiculously hard few months for me, and I needed an outlet.

Now, you need to understand that I've been a 'professional' writer for more than 20 years now, if by professional you mean someone who gets paid to write. (I don't actually feel like any kind of true professional most of the time!) I'm mostly a non-fiction/science/medical writer, though I've dabbled in other things. Anyway...the point is that I'm used to writing for an audience. The times in the past when I tried journaling on paper were complete failures; I couldn't find the right 'voice,' I didn't know how much information to include (after all, I knew what had happened to me, right, so why bother giving all the details?), and so in the end the writing always ended up feeling forced, fake, pointless, and grandiose.

So I had all this angst, and this need to talk, but I didn't have anyone to talk TO. Then I started reading other peoples' blogs--I don't remember who turned me on to them, or which was my very first, but I know it was around the same time--and I realized that this was the way to go for me. This was a venue in which I could talk about what hurt me and what made me laugh, and I would have an audience, however small, that I could talk to.

What I write about has transformed a bit over the years--the stalking issues are a lot less prominent much of the time, my kids are growing and changing and thus the way I write about them has grown and changed--but I haven't had the sort of major life shift that you describe. Or, rather, I'd had it a good six years before I started blogging, when I became a mother for the first time. In general, the reason I blog now is still the same as it was when I started--I need to process my life, to get stuff 'on paper,' and I need an audience to keep me motivated to do so.

Reading about your son and his current struggles and challenges really struck a chord in my heart. I worked with children in rehab for many years, but always in the physical arena. I thought it beautiful when you brought into focus that your son is the crux of the issue, not his diagnosis. As you continue to identify ways to better give him assist and opportunities, I would ask you what are your greatest hopes for your son? And what are your greatest fears?

There's pretty much no chance I'm going to get through this without crying. But here goes...

My greatest hopes for my N are the same as they are for his older sister, Em. I hope that they will grow up to have lives that make them happy, that satisfy them, that are authentic and real and meaningful. I hope that they will grow up to make a difference in someone else's life. I hope that they will love and be loved.

Here is what I often say to my husband and friends: I truly and completely believe that N is going to be just fine as an adult. More than just fine. I think he's going to be a kick-ass grownup. I think he's going to be special and unique. I think that who he is now is going to serve him really well once he's on the other side of these years of struggle and growth and learning--but only if he makes it through those years having grown and learned. If he's been beaten down by life and/or his peers, if he's been passed through the school system without anyone figuring out how to reach him, if he doesn't learn to navigate through life on his own, then the adulthood I envision for him will evaporate, and in its place...Not something I want to think about.

But that's not even my greatest fear. My greatest fear is that that kick-ass adulthood will evaporate on account of something I did, or didn't do, or tried to do and failed. That in trying to help him, I will instead somehow hinder him. That I'm not doing the best I possibly can by him. That he deserves better. It's not necessarily rational, but it's definitely my greatest fear.

What are three things that you have done of which you are very, very proud?

Em.
N.
My two books.
(I'd have added marrying my husband, but that doesn't feel like something to be proud of; I didn't do anything other than say 'yes' at the right moment. It's just something that makes me happy.)

What is one thing you have done that you would change if you had the chance?

Is it pathetic that I really can't think of anything? Or, rather, I feel as if the choices I've made have led me where I am, and I don't think I'd have wanted to wind up anywhere else. I'd love to see what would have happened if I'd made other choices along the way--for instance, I lived in Scotland for a year back in the mid '80s, and dated a boy there; I'd love to know what would have happened if I hadn't found living on separate continents too hard to maintain the relationship for a few years until we could be together. Would we have married? Would I be living in Scotland now? But I wouldn't want to redo that part of my life if it means losing the life I have now.

I noticed that you were awfully close to the recent Signal fire, which places you squarely in some part of suburban Southern California (not far from me, actually). I also noticed you have family back East.

What is the biggest difference you notice in the people living on opposite edges of this country? I ask because I grew up here in California but went to school in NYC for five years. I would love to hear the perspective of another bi-coaster.

I'm actually right at one of the borders of the Station fire, and yes, that means I'm in an LA suburb. I've lived in LA and its environs since 1993, but before then, I'd spent the bulk of my years in New York. In fact, I was born and bred in Queens.

The biggest difference between the two cities, to me, is their energy levels. New York gives off a level of frantic, hard-edged, high-voltage energy that it a bit off-putting to me these days. When I'm there, I feel manic; I'm irritable; my speech and movement feels pushed, pressured. I feel hard. And it's claustrophobic. I used to ride the subways without a second thought; now, a subway ride sets my heart pounding, my palms sweating. It's an instant panic attack. For many, many people, that energy literally feeds them--their mood, their creativity. But for me, it's all just too much.

LA, on the other hand, is more open, calmer. Since I'm not in 'the business,' though, it tends to feel like a place without a center, without a specific identity. West Hollywood, Pasadena, Brentwood, Northridge; these places have almost nothing in common. The idea that the temperature on any given day may vary by 10, 20, 30 degrees from one part of LA to another...that just blew me away when I first got here. But it's sort of emblematic: There's no single way to define LA, no one temperature that fits across the board. Which is why it pisses me off when I hear people make generalizations about what LA is like. It's like nothing. It's like everything.

Oh, and the other difference? I, still a New Yorker in many ways, carry a pocketbook, when the rest of you carry a purse. And I wear sneakers, not tennis shoes or running shoes or walking shoes.

If you closed your eyes right now and imagined a place you would like to be, anywhere, anytime, what does that place look like?

It's a house, set far back, no neighbors in sight (though it's not completely isolated). The house has tons and tons and tons of natural light; I don't like dark places. It has window seats, a library, and lots of land with gardens I can play in. It's quiet, and warm. There are hills--I like my landscapes hilly--but there is sand and water nearby.

And now if you open your eyes and look around you, what does that place look like?

It looks like my bedroom, with my husband asleep net to me, the cats curled up by my feet. My bedside lamp is on, even though I don't really need the light. (I told you I don't like dark places.) I need to put away those clothes piled up in the corner, but I love this room; it's airy yet cozy, and it has a huge picture window at one end that offers a gorgeous view of the foothills we live in, at least when we haven't let the amber tree get overgrown and block the view. It's a good room.

Pirate, bounty hunter, or cop? Which would you choose to be and why?

Cop. I need structure and predictability, and rules--laws--provide that. I would make a terrible pirate or bounty hunter, always butting in with, "But are you sure it's OK to do this?" I'd be walking the plank in no time.

Thanks, TC, for indulging me in my questionnaire. It was actually really fun musing on questions to send you way.

And for those intrigued and reading, I think the GIE is still open, if you want to hop in check it out here.