It’s seeming more and more that I blog almost as though I’m writing in a diary. I blog about (most of) my innermost feelings, the goings-on in my life, what makes me laugh, what makes me cry. I wouldn’t say I’m a “professional” blogger. But it’s certainly not merely recreational. I blog to help find myself, and in the hopes that others find themselves in my writing. I blog because I believe it’s going to lead me to the things I truly want to be doing. In many ways, it already has lead me there.
So now I’m at a fucking blogger convention. Yes. I am. I’m in San Diego with 3,000 other bloggers. And it’s pretty damn interesting. It’s SO MUCH like Holywood, it’s weird. There are A-List celebrity bloggers, B-List, C-list, etc. I think I’m on the same list here as I am as a television personality. You can come to your own conclusion. There’s a lot going on: Networking, seminars, parties, food, swag, and a whole lot of schmoozing.
It was rough for me to leave this morning. As hard as I try, it’s never easy for me to just “go with the flow” when it comes to going away. I guess I’m more a creature of habit than I even knew. And it’s hard for me to relinquish the control I’m used to wielding on a daily basis. I make breakfast. I make lunch. I make dinner. I feed the animals. I clean the litter box. Now, of course, seeing that in writing makes me a bit excited about having three days “off”. But, dang it, I ENJOY doing all of that stuff! (Mostly the stuff that has to do with the boys. Less so with the litter box.) As good as I know it is for me, and for the fellas… It’s hard to leave, even for a few days. I love being with them, damn it! And I’m not ashamed to say it.
But I did it. I packed, I left Russ annoying notes about when to feed the animals and to remember to give G his vitamin and to get the mail, and I left. On the way to San Diego I picked up one of my favorite bloggers, whom I had never met. We talked non-stop and she is as lovely and engaging in person as she is on paper. Or on a computer, as it were.
I then got to meet a bevy of women throughout the day who I have connected with over this past year. I want to tell you about each of them but I don’t know if I’m permitted. Suffice it to say, I feel lucky to have met them and I can’t believe how kind they have been to me. One of them in particular (you know who you are) needs to be my PR person. Another, (you know who you are) needs to schedule my life for me on excel.
It’s been a lovely day, although a tad overwhelming, and I even got to have a twenty minute conversation with the boys, (overheard by one of my new friends). When I told G-Man I had some “stuff” for him, he wanted to make sure it had to do with dinosaurs. When I told him it didn’t, he cried. Russ thinks he might have been crying about me being away. I think it was because there are no Brontosaurs in my bag.
Which brings me to the real reason I’m writing instead of sleeping, which I should be doing because I have a breakfast to get to in 8 hours. I think it’s important for you to know I have a problem. I have a big problem. I like free stuff. This is probably something Russ could’ve told you every time he saw me weep during Oprah’s Favorite Things. But I didn’t know how deep my issues were.
Tonight, in the expo hall, among hundreds of other women… I took shit. I didn’t steal it, mind you. It was all offered to me. And I took it. Hawaiin Rolls? Took ‘em. Dark chocolate? In my bag. A Tempurpedic sleep mask? Mine. Coupons for creamers and Dole fruit and pita chips and sun chips and wood floor cleaner and Dove bars? GOT THEM! I also got some naughty stuff. And post-it’s. And a water bottle. And I ate. I ate like a frigging pig. Not only, NOT ONLY!, were there caramelized pear and stilton cheese pastry crust goodies, there was chocolate and fruit and Jimmy Dean sausage biscuits AND sausages on a stick wrapped in a pancake like a damn CORN dog only BETTER! And then Hillshire Farms made me eat a cuban sandwich! And I ate more when I got to the party tonight. Because it was all free, not because I was hungry. NOT TO MENTION the party I went to right when I got here where I got THROWN a bag filled to the BRIM with shit for Garrett! THEY PRACTICALLY FORCED ME TO TAKE IT, PEOPLE! IT ISN’T MY FAULT!
So, I’m going to get help. Not this weekend, of course. I mean, who knows if there are any good Gratis Anonymous groups in San Diego. I’ll wait until I get home. But then I am GOING to one of those meetings. I hear they serve coffee and donuts. For free.