Last week, I signed myself up for the Alt Design Summit, a conference for design and lifestyle bloggers.
I have a lot of feelings about this. Generally feelings that involve swear words. And while I’m ok having a little f-bomb here and there, the quality and quantity of verbiage burbling in my head is more than I feel comfortable posting.
So use your imagination.
What the shiznip was I thinking? I’m not a snarfing lifestyle blogger. And I’m sure as shiitake not a design blogger. The registration is not refundable! All of the strangers! And the mingling! Meeting people and trying to tell them that I have a blog! Bocce balls!
etc etc etc
It was a glittering hailstorm of self doubt that escalated in a week of not blogging at all. What’s the best way to fulfill one’s self fulfilling prophecy of having a shitty blog? Don’t blog at all!
So, it’s Monday again now and I am still terrified of what I’ve done. But I’m going to cache in on a current über cliche and just try to keep calm and carry on.
It’s not until January 18th. That’s ages away. No point getting all hepped up about it now.
And fear of what other people will think of me is unacceptable reason to stop doing something I want to do. It’s ok to be afraid. It’s not ok to let that feeling bully me.
My anxiety about this is forcing me to realize something: writing this little blog is important to me. I feel very insecure about it and am therefore loathe to admit it, but I really want to make it work. I don’t know what making it work means yet, but I know I haven’t done it. The desire to achieve that making-it-workness was actually the driving force behind signing up for Alt Summit. I’m hopeful that it will be inspiring and educational.
That hope got seriously overwhelmed by bad attitude. And just like after a miserable failure with my diet, after a week off from blogging, I feel the allure of just giving up.
The bossy annoying half of my head is all “You can’t give up! You JUST admitted that this is important to you!”
So the creative writer side says “Oh, yeah, bossypants? What’s tomorrow’s awesome post going to be about then, you snatch hatcher? Maybe you should write it!”
Fisticuffs ensue.
I can’t even tell you about how that fight turns out because it is still tumbling around, in and out, through plate glass windows. Just like Mark Darcy and Daniel Cleaver. Except with fewer British accents.
margaret edith 