Tonight I met Nat at a local coffee shop and engaged in what seemed like endless conversation. We drank hot beverages, ate treats and she even bought me a tea (switching it up from the usual free coffees I get - leave it to her to be different!)
Anyway, I just want to say how happy I am for her that she was able to have that special time with me. It obviously meant a great deal and I'm sure she felt all warm and fuzzy afterwards. I'm awaiting her next blog post in which she will undoubtedly gush over my great looks and rockin' personality.
It's so good to be The Maven.
All ego aside - let me just whip it back into the cage for a minute - I was glad to steal some one-on-one time with this chick. She struck me as someone I needed to get to know better when I met her at the Ottawa blogger brunch a couple of months ago. She's witty and intelligent and hip and has extremely cool hair. Cool hair gives people bonus points on my score sheet. People who rock the hair often have wicked personalities, and being a social succubus I tend to feed of the energy of others. It's sort of like being an empath but far more selfish. It really suits my style.
I confided in Nat that I'm always a little nervous meeting people who read my blog. I worry that they're going to expect this really funny, outgoing person who's snappy comebacks roll off her tongue like a toddler barfing up a marble.
The problem, of course, is that I'm a rather dull person. Think about it: I have three kids, I'm a stay-at-home-mom, and I blog. Wow. That's a life of excitement right there. I'm practically bursting at the seams with funny anecdotes and fling them around the room using perfect timing: BAM! There's one now. Everyone's laughing. BAM! There's another one that's related to the first. Look at the precision that Maven has! She owns the room!
Oh, how I wish.
I prefer when things go the other way: when people I know in real life read my posts and suddenly realize that I might actually have a talent that goes beyond knowing when Dr. Phil comes on the various satellite channels.
Don't knock it. Not everyone can remember channel numbers off the cuff like that; they have to actually consult the guide. Losers.
I can be really geeky and serious at times. It's not all fun and games when you're The Maven. Sometimes you have to talk about alcoholism or secondary infertility or miscarriage or other tales of woe. And sometimes you even have to shut up and let someone else talk. And actually listen to them.
Ick.
This evening I told my coffee date how I cried before dinner because Gutsy said he likes daddy way more than me, and how I was set on fire at school when I was thirteen. Those are not light topics, people; they are very serious, feel sorry for me topics. I'm just glad I talked about interesting, drama-filled events and not how I placed an online order for a missing part to our steam cleaner. There's serious stuff related to the discussion and then there's loser talk. I don't go that far down the ladder and step into Loserville too often. Only when I'm really desperate for a topic. And tonight I was not. It appears some people like to talk as much as I do. I'm not as unique as I once believed. Tragic.
The nice thing about writing blog entries is that I can take the best parts of myself (and, well, some of the worst parts) and carefully craft them into words before sticking them up on a website. It allows me time to think about what I'm writing so I don't bore my readers (the thousands of you out there) to tears.
Recreating myself daily: It's my gift to you.
You're welcome.
But in the really real world I'm actually a pretty average girl. Ask anyone who knows me and they'll tell you that I can blend in fairly well in most circles and don't have (quite as much of) the ego I put on display here.
I am, however, above average in looks. And I'm really intelligent. I ooze brain cells out of every gorgeous pore. Just so we're clear.
Anyway, I just want to say how happy I am for her that she was able to have that special time with me. It obviously meant a great deal and I'm sure she felt all warm and fuzzy afterwards. I'm awaiting her next blog post in which she will undoubtedly gush over my great looks and rockin' personality.
It's so good to be The Maven.
All ego aside - let me just whip it back into the cage for a minute - I was glad to steal some one-on-one time with this chick. She struck me as someone I needed to get to know better when I met her at the Ottawa blogger brunch a couple of months ago. She's witty and intelligent and hip and has extremely cool hair. Cool hair gives people bonus points on my score sheet. People who rock the hair often have wicked personalities, and being a social succubus I tend to feed of the energy of others. It's sort of like being an empath but far more selfish. It really suits my style.
I confided in Nat that I'm always a little nervous meeting people who read my blog. I worry that they're going to expect this really funny, outgoing person who's snappy comebacks roll off her tongue like a toddler barfing up a marble.
The problem, of course, is that I'm a rather dull person. Think about it: I have three kids, I'm a stay-at-home-mom, and I blog. Wow. That's a life of excitement right there. I'm practically bursting at the seams with funny anecdotes and fling them around the room using perfect timing: BAM! There's one now. Everyone's laughing. BAM! There's another one that's related to the first. Look at the precision that Maven has! She owns the room!
Oh, how I wish.
I prefer when things go the other way: when people I know in real life read my posts and suddenly realize that I might actually have a talent that goes beyond knowing when Dr. Phil comes on the various satellite channels.
Don't knock it. Not everyone can remember channel numbers off the cuff like that; they have to actually consult the guide. Losers.
I can be really geeky and serious at times. It's not all fun and games when you're The Maven. Sometimes you have to talk about alcoholism or secondary infertility or miscarriage or other tales of woe. And sometimes you even have to shut up and let someone else talk. And actually listen to them.
Ick.
This evening I told my coffee date how I cried before dinner because Gutsy said he likes daddy way more than me, and how I was set on fire at school when I was thirteen. Those are not light topics, people; they are very serious, feel sorry for me topics. I'm just glad I talked about interesting, drama-filled events and not how I placed an online order for a missing part to our steam cleaner. There's serious stuff related to the discussion and then there's loser talk. I don't go that far down the ladder and step into Loserville too often. Only when I'm really desperate for a topic. And tonight I was not. It appears some people like to talk as much as I do. I'm not as unique as I once believed. Tragic.
The nice thing about writing blog entries is that I can take the best parts of myself (and, well, some of the worst parts) and carefully craft them into words before sticking them up on a website. It allows me time to think about what I'm writing so I don't bore my readers (the thousands of you out there) to tears.
Recreating myself daily: It's my gift to you.
You're welcome.
But in the really real world I'm actually a pretty average girl. Ask anyone who knows me and they'll tell you that I can blend in fairly well in most circles and don't have (quite as much of) the ego I put on display here.
I am, however, above average in looks. And I'm really intelligent. I ooze brain cells out of every gorgeous pore. Just so we're clear.