Why I haven’t written my Blogher 09 Recap.

Yes, I know that it has been a freaking month now, and I have not yet written about Blogher 09.

In my defense, here is a list of excuses.  Please pick and choose from them the ones which you find most pleasing:

• I am not really a human being; I am a robot and I have been programmed not to write my opinions on conferences I attend in a timely manner. This is making it really hard to, you know, write my opinions on conferences I attend… in a timely manner. Like Blogher 09, for example.  If you are a robot programmer, please get in touch with me. I need your help.

• Blame Alcohol.  I had so much to drink that weekend that really, people, come ON.  I might as well just write: Got to The Chicago Sheraton. Heard ear splitting squeees echoing off of the walls in all directions as people saw one another. Stuffed swag bags. Party. Drinks. Party. Drinks. Naked woman? Wow. Stumble, stumble, sleep.  Sessions. People! Party! Someone handed me a drink. And another. Another. Another? Sure! WHY NOT. Etc. *drink train ensued* Blur blur, Party, Dancing, blur blur, static, room spinning, I’m falling, oh God, I’m falling. What is that? Slur slur slur. Static. Someone cut me off, Good Lord why is no one cutting me off? I think I just ate my own hair. Is that a moose?  Blur blur. Laughter, sleep of some sort, passing out? Blackness.  Dog turds in my mouth. Hangover. Hangover. Hangover. Hangover. Bowling? Sleep.  I got on the plane with perfume bitch and came home. But that wasn’t very fun to read, now was it?

• Jim and Loralee were SO DAMN CUTE hiding under the table that I can’t remember how to type.

• Swag Issues are to blame.

a) When I tried to enter The People’s Party, the crushing sea of people almost did me in, but somehow I survived! Unfortunately, then someone elbowed me in the head while they were trying to OMG GET THEIR FREE SHIT HURRY BEFORE IT’S ALL GONE AHHHHH, and I forgot everything that happened. (and well, no, that didn’t really happen. not to me, anyway.)

OR

b) While manning the Room 704 Party opener, handing out drink tickets with Dawn, Victoria, Leslie, and Heather, multiple women killed me with their death stares of angry entitlement and hatred (I’m not bitter about this, I’m NOT.) because I (we) wouldn’t give them their swag imm-effing-ediately (free vibrators bring out the best in us all!) and dead people CAN’T EVEN WRITE BLOGS, PEOPLE.

• Your mom.

• Every time I try to write about the conference I get all verklempt and I can’t even get halfway into anything decent because my Emo tears are rocking me to sleep.  I think about all the wonderful people I finally got to see in person.  I spent time (not enough, never, never enough) with so many wonderful people over the weekend of the Blogher 09 Con and I can’t believe that it flew by so quickly.  I didn’t get to talk to all the people I wanted to talk with.  I didn’t get to spend enough time with those I did get to talk with.  I missed out on doing some things with certain people over the weekend, and I kick myself and/or spank myself with a rolled up piece of paper (oh, baby) almost every day now because of it. (By the way, there is a nasty bruise now and it hurts, oh man it hurts.  You should be thoroughly ashamed that you didn’t try harder to get me in on that stuff. Yes. YOU.)  But overall, the chance to see so many people I know, admire, respect, and want to hump enjoy talking with was so awesome that I have a hard time putting it into words.  I got to touch people who live inside my computer!  I got to touch them and know that YOU GUYS REALLY ARE REAL (so there! to everyone I know in real life, my “computer friends” are NOT just deranged guys in prison trying to trick me into sending them my nudes. They are just the real people they SAY they are… trying to trick me into sending them my nudes. I totally win. You must be so embarrassed.  Hahaha. Losers.)  Also, now that I am home again I MISS YOU ASSHOLES.  So, yeah.  It is all too emotional for me to recount for you, and when I try to, I cry in the way that the unpopular kid on the playground who got pushed down in the dirt for the eleventy-seventh time this week cries.  Yes, with sand in my eyes and a booger on my face.  But then I pour myself a drink, put on some black nail polish and write poems deep into the night, until the meaning of all things becomes so clear that I don’t even understand who I am anymore.  And at that point, I can’t be writing blog posts about blogging conferences.  I am deeper than that.

• Mishelle snored so loudly next to me that one night that the contents of my brain were wiped clean.  Good thing she’s such a doll. It was totally worth getting to sleep next to her.

photo courtesy of Angie

• I am a seriously lazy douche, and there is just no way I can ever really get anything done that I’m supposed to get done.  I even have a tattoo on my forehead as a disclaimer, so you can’t exactly be mad about it, can you?  I mean, did you even take the time to look at my forehead?  If not, then you are really to blame for all of this, aren’t you?  AREN’T YOU?  You can’t even admit it, can you?  When did things get so messed up between us that you can’t even tell me the truth?  How did we get here? I don’t even know you anymore. *sobbing*

• When I got to the airport in Chicago, I not only got to have an Airport Hump Date with Angie, Shash, and Mel, but I also ran into Elizabeth and Lindsay at the baggage carousel.  I had never met Lindsay before, even though we live in the same town.  So I shook her hand and told her I was happy to finally meet her in person, since this was the first time.  She exclaimed, “But I know your BEWWWWBSSS!!!”  The old woman to my right made SUCH a foul face that her head almost fell off.  In hindsight I should have just shown them to her, so that she would GET IT. Can’t resist the power of Bewbs.  I am not smart in real time, though, and instead, it turns out that she’s a Gypsy and she put a curse on me that delays all writings about Blogging Conferences.  This is really going to slow things down for me After Type A Mom Con, too.  (Am I going to that? I forget.) So just go ahead and expect it.  Damn Gypsy curses are the worst.  I’m actually jealous of that guy from Thinner.  Not only did his curse cause him to lose weight without trying, but he earned it by getting a Road Blow.  And no one at the airport even OFFERED to blow me.  The Universe hates me.

• I did write it, I published it, you all read it already and it was AWESOME.  It was SO AWESOME. What? You don’t remember? WTH is wrong with you? It might be a tumor.  You need to have that checked.

• I passed out over the Blogher 09 Weekend, so drunk that I didn’t even make it back to my room before the black curtain of no return fell inside my head. Though I was in the care of people who don’t write “PENIS!” on your face in black Sharpie while you’re sleeping, or even take pictures of you, while you are blacked out, with genitals somewhere in the shot near your general face area and then send them to Post Secret or post them to TwitPic, I still feel really, really stupid and OMG I don’t want to talk about it at all. Because the next day people were all OMFG LOTUS IS DEAD and APBs were going out over Twitter to find out if I really was dead or if I was just sitting in jail with a black eye and ripped fishnet stockings because I was whoring on the streets of Chicago to earn extra money for meals (you have to eat when you drink that much, people) and the pimp was all “Bitch better have my money!” and I didn’t. Which of course ensued in a public beating where I was loudly screaming, “Get your Pimp Hand off of me!” And the cops were not sympathetic to the whore because she said, “Where’s my free drink, Pig, THIS IS BLOGHER WEEKEND, DON’T YOU KNOW YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO GIVE ME FREE DRINKS?”  But luckily it wasn’t either of those things (I’m no whore) and I had to get up in the morning and apologize to Twitter and then tell my husband I wasn’t dead/in prison for hookin’, take a shower to wash away the shame of being such a miserable loser, clean the dog turds out of my mouth and sleep all day.  And I really don’t want to tell you guys about any of that, so I’m not going to write about Blogher.

• I had such a fabulous time that I can’t imagine waiting a whole year to do it again, so instead, I’m going to keep talking about how I’m JUST ABOUT to write my recap, because if I keep being JUST ABOUT to write my recap, then maybe it will seem like no time has passed at all and even a year later, I’ll be all, OMG I JUST GOT HOME FROM BLOGHER AND HAVE NOT EVEN WRITTEN MY RECAP YET BUT IT’S ALREADY TIME TO GO AGAIN!? SCORE!

• You should be paying me for my opinions on things like this and NONE of you has posted your payment to my PayPal account yet.  Really, this whole delay is your fault, and honestly, I don’t appreciate it one bit.

• Over the course of the weekend, I actually had my ass smacked more times than I had my bewbs grabbed. (Just in case you were wondering, women at blogging conferences are HANDSY.)  Which is kind of perplexing to me. I didn’t know how to approach that fact in the whole retelling of things. Does this mean my ass is way hotter than my bewbs? Or that bewbs are just way less hot than I thought they were?

  Blogher Bewbs

  This has been keeping me up at night. It is very important to consider. I can’t think of anything else in the world that is more important than this, actually.  Until I get this figured out, I can’t write the recap.

• Every time I try to type my Blogher09 post into my WP Text Editor, the whole system crashes and I get locked out of my own website.  Apparently, the quota for Blogher Recaps has been met for 2009 and trying to write another one causes a fatal error.  (This lockout is also why I haven’t been writing much else.  It’s not just because I suck and don’t deliver quality content on a regular basis.)

• I have to get really drunk to write about the times when I have been really drunk, because being in the same state of mind allows you to recall information much more accurately.  And I have been completely sober ever since I left Chicago. In fact, I’m definitely not drunk right now.  Really.  I swear.

• If you question me again, I will cut you, bitch.

• Twitter.

• Your mom.

• Canada.

• My bewbs.

• Other random nonsense. Like popsicles, bumble bees, and Andy Samberg.

• Mmmmm. Andy Samberg.

• What?

• Also, while I was at Bowlher being all “I’m still hungover even though it’s the next night, so I’m going to go hide on this couch in the back of the building, in the dark, and eat chicken on a STEEEEEK while I drink Mr. Pibb,” these people (a nice couple) came and sat down next to me.  (side note: every time I tried to order Dr. Pepper in Chicago, I got one of two responses:

1. “We have Mr. Pibb.” (Implied: “dumbass.”)
2. *look of disgust and hate* “You are not in the south anymore, you damn HICK. Just leave.  Leave now.”

For the record. SCREW MR. PIBB. Uneducated bastard.)

So, anyway they (the couple) were nice and all, but they were on a completely different plane than I was at that time, like, marketing and business and stuff.  And, to reiterate, I was all I AM STILL HUNGOVER, WHERE CAN I HIDE? And so, anyway, when I was asked about what kind of things I do, and I talked about the photography part, I said “I am not a professional photographer, but I have a real passion for photography and I thoroughly enjoy sharing that.” And the guy was all, “You shouldn’t say you’re not a professional, you should just say that you are a passionate photographer…” (and some other stuff, but I don’t remember, because in my head at that point I was all “Are you fucking serious?”) And when he stopped talking I was just like, “Oh. Well. Thing is. I’m not a professional photographer, but I have a real passion for photography and I thoroughly enjoy sharing that.” And then I just looked at him.  (Here’s where some people will roll their eyes and be all “You are such a bitch and why are you so mean to people? Whore.” To which I have a two-part response:

1. I abhor to be told what I should say or do when it’s really not anyone else’s business and I didn’t ask. He was a perfectly nice guy, really, but he was just in a totally different state of mind about all this with the marketing and such, and I get that. But overall?  I was over here (hand gesture) and he was over there (hand gesture way far away from first hand gesture) and I had no desire to build a bridge.
2. I am not a whore. I’ve never been paid. I’m a slut. So there.

What does this story have to do with the reason why I haven’t written a recap yet?  Well.  It’s because I knew I would have to tell this story and I’M SENSITIVE TO BEING CALLED A WHORE AND LOOK AT WHAT YOU DID.

• While I was at the pretty damn awesome Nikon’s Night Out Party, I got to have my photo taken with Carson Kressley.photo courtesy of Angie

  Now, this is not embarrassing for ME but for HIM, and out of respect, I didn’t want to hash it up again by writing the recap.

• Anissa also licked my bewb while I was at that Nikon party.  But it really has nothing to do with why I haven’t written my recap. I JUST WANTED TO MAKE SURE YOU ALL KNEW. Because I’m proud of that.  Don’t act like you’re not impressed.

• My pen is out of ink.  What? Nobody else writes all their posts with an ink quill first and then transfers them to the computer?  WHEN DID YOU ALL LOSE YOUR SENSE OF ART AND BEAUTY?  When did you lose your appreciation for the elegance of the CREATIVE PROCESS!? I am ashamed of all of you.  You don’t even DESERVE my recap.

• The drugs. And the booze. And the mental infirmity.

• The sheer fact that this is the kind of crap I’d be publishing when it was all said and done.

• The large number of you who will probably unsubscribe now. (I can see you, damnit.)

• Your mom.

The ironic post that wasn’t really ironic but was more just dumb.

Sitting on my couch right now rather vegged. It’s 11:10pm on Monday night and I’m blinking as I notice the time because, uh? I usually post the next day’s post at midnight, and well, that’s less than an hour from now, and as you are reading this you realize that I have not written more than 2 sentences of a post and it’s about nothing but my current predicament.  Which is really a rather lame way to start a post.  I meant, which is really an AWESOME way to start a post.  (I am so lazy that is the extent to which I’m going to go to convince you.  Not convinced?  Me either.)

What are you supposed to do when you’re such a raging lazy douche that you know you need to write your post, and it needs to be done immediately, but you’re still all, “waahhh, I’m too lazy to do this…” ?

Well, if you’re also an attention seeking whinebag, you Tweet your lamentations.

And then people respond.

You laugh.  Then you go, uh, but really… what am I going to write about tonight?

And then you write about how you didn’t have anything to write about and it was almost midnight when you usually post and you didn’t really feel like writing about something so you Tweeted about it and then you got responses and then you laughed and then you wondered what you were going to write about.

Yeah.  I totally went there.

And the most awesome thing is that when you’re done typing up your pathetic excuse for a post, and you wonder, “What photo could I possibly use on this post?”  You decide that the best photo of all for this post would be a photo of the post.

So there.

Help me, Rhonda. (and the rest of you, too, please)

Not that long ago, I told you all that I just didn’t have the mojo to write anymore.

And that was true. In fact, for some time now, I haven’t had the mojo to do a lot of things that I used to do. The only thing I’ve really had mojo for is sleeping.

I could sleep for lifetimes.

And while I was half asleep mentally and emotionally, I asked some fabulous bloggers to step up and provide wonderful content for you – and, oh my, they did! I am humbled and amazed at the response I got from those I asked. In fact, there are still guest posts waiting to be published here. I can’t say thank you enough to these wonderful people.

I made a page containing list of past and future guest posters, if you’d like to look them over.

The thing is, lately, I can feel Ms. Mojo poking back around her old stomping grounds. And as I’m waking up slowly from this coma, I’m feeling like things are just not as they should be around here.

I’ve missed PSBN for months. That makes me sad, and I hate it. My blogging schedule has been here, there, and everywhere.

It’s time for me to exert control over mah blawg again. I want to get things back in order so that you don’t come over here feeling like you were heading to a bake sale but ended up in an S&M Bar.

(But don’t think I didn’t see you grinning at the black leather-clad lady holding the whip. Mm-hm. I saw ya. But I won’t tell. Maybe.)

So, I have a handful of plans to get my groove back and have some fun with you guys again. I’d love to get your feedback.

I do this blogging thing for me, but I do it for you, too. If I didn’t, this would all be in a journal in my nightstand. So let me know what you think.

Please vote on the polls that go along with these questions, and I’d love to have any suggestions/elaborations you’d like to give me in the comments on this post!

PSBN starts back up this coming Monday. Will you post along with me?

The “I Wonder” Series has been dead – should I start it up again?

The BEWB Vote was fun – should we do it again?

Would anyone be intersted in a Bi-Annual Photo Contest with prizes?

I still have guest posts to share with you. But to offer some consistency, I’m thinking of starting a weekly Guest Post Day on Tuesdays called, “Lazy Douche Enablers”

*note: this poll allows you to choose more than one answer. you can also choose “other” and write a comment, but keep it to a few words, or it will get cut off and I won’t be able to see it all

_____________________________________________________

PS: Thank you so very much to all of you who voted on my question about whether I should try to sell my handmade paper.  The response really overwhelmed me – 95% of you chose one of the options that directs me to sell the paper. So many awesome comments and suggestions, too.  Thanks so much, guys! I will let you all know when the Etsy Shop is up and running with product.

Mah Mojo, She A-Go-Go Away

It’s true. My mojo is what usually drives me to rant, joke, and jibber-jabber.

But she’s gone.

And I’m feeling like I’m just a shadow of my former self, right now.

My usual M.O. is that I have silly/sarcastic/bitchy/rantlike/dumb thoughts and reactions to things throughout the day, most days, and I share them with you in my posts.

But depression of a special kind has whisked my mojo away to a far-off land and is rubbing its feet and feeding it chocolates, and it does not want to return to me.

Yes, my mojo has taken a page from my book and has become a selfish, self-centered, gluttonous lazy douche.

*sniff*
I’m so proud of that freakin’ bitch.

So, lately, when I’m not crying The Ugly Cry or whipping out some classic Big Fat Ugly Lack of Grace I feel like I’m just “blahing” it through the day.

It’s not that I haven’t had things I wanted to write about, or good ideas for posts.  In fact, I have been having ideas off and on every day… moments where I think, “Ah, I should tell them about this….”

But I’m lacking that “oomph” I had before that actually started the engines.

I still have passing humorous thoughts, but they don’t linger, and when I think about creating a post surrounding one of them, my head starts feeling really heavy and my heart just sighs and doesn’t feel like it.

Clearly, my head and heart are yet another couple of lazy douches. This whole lazy douche thing is really contagious, yeh?

[Aside: Have you ever noticed how often I talk about being a lazy douche? And you thought trolls were good for nothing. Thanks, Dana, for the most fun running gag I've found since talking about my bewbs (aka The Rack). Seriously, trolls are funny.]

Anyway, I’m still here, still bitchyesque and rantalicious with a little happy sillification trying to make its way back in. And I’m sure it will, eventually. Just couldn’t go on living if that didn’t come back, really.

Most of the time my motivation control knob is turned up to a higher level. (In fact, it goes all the way to 11. Unlike most other knobs that only go to 10. When I need an extra push, I can go “one louder” than you losers with only 10….)

But right now, some asshole has me turned down to about 3.

Bear with me… it might take me some time to get back to “full volume.” But I promise I’m going to do my best to grab that knob and try to crank it.

Heh.

Lead with your ass…

And follow with a smile.

That’s the motto for my life from the very first day on.

Today is the day when I pushed my ass out of the darkness and into the light, 32 years ago.

In keeping with the trend, I give you 10 assholish things about myself… in the hopes that at least one will make you smile.

Why 10?  Well, I was going to do 32 (one for each year I’m old), but…

1. I’m a lazy douche.
2. I forget people’s names.  I remember faces, but I am clueless about names.  If we ever meet, please tell me who you are and why I know you.  Or just avoid me because I’m a jerk.
3. Children who are rude in public push me one step away from being a child abuser.  I want to pop their little heads off.  I know that they are just children, but yeah. (Don’t worry, I want to kill their parents, too.  Wait, is that good or bad?)
4. I have a blogsite (duh) where I spend post after post just talking about myself.  Sometimes I even make lists of things about myself.  It’s all about ME.
5. I am married to a country music guitarist. I hate vomit at the sound of dislike country music.
6. I would shower more, but I don’t feel like it. It’s not ALL about water conservation. I’m just lazy.
7. When Braden was born, I thought the other babies in the nursery where fugly.  I was so glad he was not. (Because baby switching is TRICKY!)
8. Made a bet with John on something last night and told him, “If you’re right, you can have 10 blowjobs.” We looked it up.  He was right.  I smiled.  While he was celebrating loudly I said, “You were right, you can have 10 blowjobs… on your 50th birthday, and I’ll pay for the hooker.”  Yeah, I’m a sore loser like that.  Plus, I’m lazy (refer to #1).
9. I totally fluff the covers after I cut one.
10. I am overly emotional, highly sensitive, slightly paranoid, often highly critical of others, especially those close to me.  Do you have a problem with that?  Does it make you dislike me?  It DOES, DOESN’T IT?  I knew it!  You’ve always been out to get me.  You should worry more about your own problems, you know?  You have PLENTY of them – would you like a list?

You can be the man behind my curtain, folks.

Quickly, before I start — I have my second ever article posted at Quirkee.com on Thursday. It’s all about semen, green poop, and horses breeding with humans. You know you don’t want to miss it, right? Hahaha. Please show me some love in comments over there, so they’ll let me stay on!

To go right to my article, CLICK HERE.  I think you have to register to leave me a comment, but I WILL LOVE YOU LONG TIME!

Don’t forget to check out the rest of what Quirkee.com has to offer – there is some really great talent and hilarious stuff over there.  I know my readers will appreciate the atmosphere.

***

My post from the other day (I wonder about stuff… alot.) has provided what I would say is the most fun I’ve had in my own comments section in a very long time! Of course, it took a lot of time, and I wouldn’t be able to do that with every post, but I’m going to try and do it with all of the “I wonder…” Series posts.

I was very happy to see so many of you come and talk honestly, giving your thoughts and reflections on the questions I posed to you. And I greatly enjoyed responding back to each comment. I have to thank Jennifer at Playgroups Are No Place For Children for talking about the awesome WP Plugin that allows a blog author to respond to a commenter on the post and also emails the response to the original commenter. Excellent!

I wanted to talk about a couple of things related to that post. One is that it is very clear that most of us censor ourselves, to some degree, on our websites. Some of us *cough* do it very little, and there are only a few topics we won’t talk about. And it runs from that all the way to the other extreme where some of us feel they can’t talk about hardly anything they really want to on their own website.

We all need to be able to get this stuff out. We’re writers, damnit! And this is our release! Know what else? If any of us are holding back, we’re also keeping what might be a really beautiful, wonderful, hilarious, or touching post locked inside ourselves. Can I just say that sucks? I want to help release those posts into the world for other people to see. So I’m going to do another project…

I’m planning on launching a blog, an “AnonyBlog,” so to speak. I’ll set it up, advertise it, and moderate it. And everyone is invited to come to me, get registered as an author, and post about whatever they cannot post about on their own website. The only person who will ever know who you are is me, and I will give you a written agreement that I will never disclose your identity, or link it to your piece. You write under a Pseudonym, I schedule your posts for publishing. When comments come in, I moderate them. Anything truly hateful will never see the light of day. In this way, you never have to experience any negative feelings related to your emotional release. We all get to breathe a sigh of relief. And that wonderful post, or just that crazy rant! that was locked up inside of you will finally get to be read by others. And that’s a gift to them.

It will take me some time to flesh everything out and get this launched, but in the meantime, I’d like for you guys to start emailing me if you are interested in posting on this “AnonyBlog.” Let the subject line of your email be “AnonyBlog” and just tell me you’re in. This way, when I’m ready for posts to start being submitted, I can just email all of you who are interested back, and you can get to work.

What do you think? I’m thinking it’s going to be pretty interesting.

The other thing I wanted to say is that I was also very intrigued by the results to the poll from that post. The poll basically asked, Have you ever held something back in comments that you wanted to say HERE?

As of 9:30PM, CST 07/30/08:

52 said, “No, it has never happened.”
20 said, “Yes, but it’s no biggie.”
8 said, “Yes, and I was upset, but not anymore.”
4 said, “Yes, and I’m still upset.”
1 said, “You’re a lazy douche.” (Only 1? Wow!)

thelotuscarroll@gmail.com

I eagerly invite anyone who answered “Yes…” to email me and talk about it. I urge those who said, “Yes, and I was upset, but not anymore.” to email me and tell me what upset them. I would really like the opportunity to learn and grow. And I implore those who said, “Yes, and I’m still upset.” to email me, and let’s talk about what’s happening. In the end, we may have to agree to disagree. But if I’ve slighted anyone, I would really appreciate the opportunity to apologize, perhaps make things right. Clear the air. Get rid of bad feelings. Forge onward.

Can we do that? I really hope so. Because, hell, ‘you could say that I’m a dreamer.’

‘But I’m not the only one.’

I wonder about things… a lot.

I thought about titling this post, “You could say that I’m a daydreamer.”  But it was too tacky, even for me.  Also, the word “titling” is really bothering me.  All I can think of when I look at it on the screen is, “Is that what one would affectionately call a small breast?”

But I digress.  Wait, can you digress before you even start really talking about a thing? *mentally scanning*  Okay, yes.  Because it was a mental digression.  I was thinking of the thing, but then…. oh, nevermind.

Okay.  Are you still reading? 

I wonder about things constantly.  All day long my mind jumps around to different ideas, ponderings, and musings. 

And I wonder what other people think about the stuff I think.  (And whether I’ll ever be able to write sentences that don’t sound like a 3rd grader composed them.)

It’s kind of why I enjoy writing here.  Because I can vomit all that stuff onto the screen and get feedback, suggestions, etc.  Sometimes, though… I wonder whether people are thinking things that they really want to say, but are afraid to say.  And that makes me sad.

And I don’t mean rude things, or childish things.  I’m not talking about being negative or picking fights.  Or calling people names… like, oh, “lazy” and “douche,” you know, just for example.

What I mean is really honest commenting, introspective stuff, sharing, discussion.  I think I’m craving more of that.  Know what I mean?  Not that you guys don’t do that, many of you really do, and I appreciate it.  In fact, I really appreciate every comment I get.  I know I don’t respond to every single one – I certainly wish I had the time to do so, and I do read them all, and respond to what I can.  Also, I know that a lot of you read but just don’t have time to comment… or comment, but you don’t have time to get all deep.  TOooootally understand that.

I want this to be a place where my readers feel really comfortable saying how they feel.  I’d like to be a person you find approachable and fair.  So I really welcome you to tell me when you disagree or to call me out when you think I’m wrong (without being rude, because that is entirely possible to do, I swear, and I have a hard time doing it, myself, sometimes, so this has weight, heh). 

I will admit that i have a tender heart, and I can be hurt… but I appreciate honesty in such a great way that I don’t even know how to put the right words right here on this part of the page in such a way that you would understand how much I appreciate it.  I promise to put my big-girl pants on (and save my silly pants for until I’m done) and take the constructive criticism maturely. (Okay, at least 99%  95% of the time.)

I’m going to start a series here called, “I Wonder” and it’s basically going to be me asking you guys what you think about topics that cross my mind.  Sometimes they’ll just be really silly things, and we can all have a good laugh.  Sometimes it might be more serious stuff that I just really want to hear your perspectives on.

I invite you to share with me and one another and I really hope you accept that invitation.  We talk a lot about building community around the blogosphere.  While that is not the only reason I blog, I am also very much into that. 

Today, I’m wondering… have you ever really wanted to say something on a blog, but were afraid to for some reason?  Would you be willing to talk about it here?  You don’t have to be specific (but you can feel free to be as specific as you want).  What was it about, and what stopped you from saying what you wanted to say?  Did you regret it later?

Additionally (but I’d really like an answer to the above in comments):
Has it ever happened to you here?  I’m going to add a poll here, so you can answer anonymously.  But you can also answer in comments.  I just want to get as many honest responses as possible.  So, if you’re feedreadin’ and you would like to answer the poll, it’s here!  You just can’t see it until you click over.

[I also welcome you to email me at thelotuscarroll@gmail.com if you want to talk about anything further in private.  You can do that anytime, by the way.  I just request you give me a little time to respond.  And, as always, if I don't respond after a few days, nudge me! I may have lost or overlooked your e-mail.  I'm very human!]

Thanks, in advance, for sharing yourselves with me.  After all, I’m a psychologist at heart, and by degree.  I have an inherent interest in people.  That’s you!