Inspiration v. Intimidation

So far my readership consists of 3 people. That's including my mom. And suddenly, here I am at BlogHer '08 surrounded by incredibly smart, empowering female bloggers. The women that I want to connect with. So, of course, I am telling all of them about Yours Truly, right? Hell no!

Coming out as a blogger isn't so easy. In fact, it's down-right terrifying! It implies that I am in the game. That I have something to say. That I have value to add. That I am regularly posting engaging and inspiring content. Because these other women are. And they are becoming famous for it. Some rightly so, others not so much.

I started this as a research assignment of sorts. I wanted to find out more about this powerful group of consumers because, well, I'm an ad gal and wanted to learn how to engage these women. And, yes, probably sell them something. But, then I forgot all that. Suddenly, I didn't want anything from this community. Except to be a part of it. Soooo sappy, I know. But true.

It's official. I have drank the Kool-Aid. I am bowled away by women like Gwen Bell, who I only met for maybe 20 seconds, but listened to throughout the weekend and thought, "Hey, she's pretty damn smart." And I haven't been disappointed by her continuously fabulous posts. Appreciating your peeps, love it. And there are so many others that I am now reading, following and fully enjoying.

So, I've started to whisper my blog name. And include it in web comments. And slowly introduce Yours Truly to someone other than my mom. I will do my best to make these other incredible women proud. To add value to the blogosphere in my own little way. And I vow to never ever wear a condom dress. At least not in public.

Lady Who Lunches

I've often wondered what it would be like to be independently wealthy. To split my time between martini lunches and shopping sprees at Saks. The biggest decision to make all day would be- shaken or stirred? But, then it hits me. I don't really like martinis. And besides, I am a lady who lunches. Just today I had two Oreos at my desk. Ah, the glamorous life of a Brand Strategist. How could I dream of giving it up?

What you can't tell from my shoes

I have an impossible time deciding what to wear in the morning. But, apparently, I'm not alone. I just read Susan Wagner's post at BlogHer about how hard it can be to project the image you want, particularly when you meet new people and want to impress.

I find it's even harder to decide what that image is. Truth be told, I have a million different quirks, traits, pieces and parts that make up the whole Yours Truly. And each day they fight about who gets to pick today's outfit. The "perfect" outfit which will ultimately project that "perfect" image.

Be it the "devoted, laid-back, way-too-young-to-be-a-mom" image. Wardrobe necessities are funky t-shirt, jeans, pony-tail. Accessories include darling Baby Girl (preferably, clean and not screaming), enviably well-equipped diaper bag, serene expression.

Or, maybe the "ambitious, professional, way-too-young-to-be-so-successful" image. Red heels, pencil skirt and impeccably starched blouse. Accessorized with whimsical eye-wear that displays my oh-so-creative side, well timed statistical factoid delivered with authority and wisdom to pass to young co-workers without a trace of irritation.

And, of course, the "sexy rock-and-roll chick" image. Skinny jeans, razor straight hair and heavy mascara. Add a layer of sarcasm, some pithy quick wit and a killer come-hither pout. Dirty martini on the side.

OK, so, the rock-and-roll thing is a total pipe dream. But, the point is that somewhere inside of me, there is hard-core bad-ass. Right below the neurotic yes-man who is screaming at me to stop it with the hyphens, already! Obviously, I don't want to project her to the world at large. But, I acknowledge that in the end, she's going to poke her anal little head out. Luckily, some days the bad-ass and the executive team up shut her up. Wearing an impeccably starched blouse, skinny jeans and a pony-tail. And they snuck in that last hyphen just to spite her!

WWJD- What Would Joan Do?

I long for folk songstress stardom. Never mind that I can't play the guitar. OK, I don't even own a guitar. But, I sing really well in the car. Is it somehow possible that all these years I have been missing my calling? Is this ad girl destined for something more?

It could be a family affair. Hubby can sing back-up. We'll duet. We'll sit by the pool in the evenings singing ballads to Baby Girl under the stars. I'll grow my hair out. Hubby will wear sandals. We'll eat tabbouleh and drink mulled wine. I think Joan Baez would be proud.

But, she probably wouldn't pay my mortgage. So, I guess I'll keep my day job. At least until I learn to play the guitar. Then, I'll be unstoppable!

My BlogHer debacle

So, I want to go to the BlogHer conference so bad it's killing me. In my ad girl role, I am intrigued by the blogosphere. But, in my Yours Truly world I am dying to get the inside scoop on this fabulous community and become a part of these wonderful women.

I mapped out my plan. I went to the bosses and pleaded my case. "It's a great resource. I'll learn about a new medium. I'll network with the word of mouth mavens that are redefining the advertising world." And what do you know, the powers that be gave in and bought me a ticket to San Fran. Yay...

Until...the conference is sold out. Snap. Oh, but wait, wonderspot is giving away a ticket. Yesss! But I didn't win. Hold on Izzy Mom has a pass. Sweet! Nope. Didn't get it. What's that? Miss 604 can't go...Again, too late.

But I am not giving up hope. I'm twittering and posting and stalking my little heart out. And, in my quest for a BlogHer pass I have discovered some wonderful women and found myself becoming part of the fabulous community.


PS. I am a newbie, hope I linked correctly to the great blogs I have discovered along this yellow brick road.

My new BFF

I have a new best friend and I am giddy with excitement. Passing notes through ichat, talking to the wee hours, annoying any within earshot with our inside jokes. Wait a minute. I am 30 years old. I am a cynic. Why am I about to run out and buy one of those goofy half heart necklaces? And then it hit me. There is a simplicity in true friendship that you don't find very often as an adult. So many relationships are forced or contrived or down right awkward, between work colleagues, clients, potential clients, high school blasts from the past- I have an abundance of superficial relationships. (Hey, I'm in advertising, it's kind of my job.) But, don't get me wrong, I've got a lot of killer people in my circle. Every weekend my husband and I pack the backyard with smart, witty, wonderful folks. And I love jumping from one great story to the next amongst the crowd. But it is rare for me to find a one-on-one gal pal. Without the awkward conversation fillers, or "no you're totally the prettiest" reassurances. Although, she is totally the prettiest. And the funniest. And the smartest. And we're soooo going to rent a limo for prom!

Good Morning Sunshine

Today is the first day of the rest of your life.

And so begins my blogging.