I start with disclaimers. The not. I did this on my first date with my husband, which was a date for him, but not for me.
“This is not a date,” I said to clear the air with my disclaimer when he showed up with flowers.
“Maybe not for you, but I just told my mom I’m going on a date with the girl I’m going to marry,” he said, clearing the air with his.
I will probably never spend as much time thinking about what I write for my site as I have for this bio. Certainly that’s my narcissism talking, but it’s also just me. As I finally sat down to type what to say here, I realized all my thinking up to this point has circled around what I will not say, and this thought pattern summarizes who I am better than any comma-separated list of affiliations and preferences ever could. I’m like a dog in a hole, trying to get at something, but there’s so much dirt in the way. Dig, dig, dig. I stick my nose in. Not there yet. Dig, dig, dig. Will not write about that, Cannot write about that, Wish everyone would stop writing about that. Dig, dig, dig.
It’s an exhausting process, not to mention dirty. And it’s taken six months to dig through all of that not to get me here – my space. My shingle on the web, which when I finally nosed it out (to continue on with this great dog metaphor) I could see was no different than my other shingle standing beside it. My home.
I run a drop-by home. Anyone is welcome anytime, which means sometimes visitors enter a magazine spread with a newly decorated mantel and other times, a hovel. You used the bathroom before you came, right? Because there are streaks in every toilet. Sometimes, I have food to offer, other times, I’m looking behind guests’ backs to see if they’re hiding coffee and chocolate chip banana bread.
And these aren’t the only variables. There’s also me. I’m an intense morning person. Drop by in the AM and I will overwhelm you with questions and ideas. I will talk too much. I’m a much better listener in the afternoon. And at night, I will probably fall asleep on you, even if you’re mid-punchline. Plus, I’m a chick. If you’d entered my house two days ago, I would not have liked anything you had to say. I’m doing much better today, though. Pop on by!
But not all of you can, right? Because you don’t live near me or maybe we don’t know each other. Well those boundaries don’t apply to this shingle, and though I still don’t know exactly what I will do with this blog yet, I know that I will run it like I run my home, which means I will not:
- Put on a show. I will relay who I am, what I believe, and how I live as honestly as I can.
- Teach the class. Hind-sight wisdom is great, I hear. But I’m going keep our conversation to the present.
- Hold the crown. My main driver for hanging this shingle is I’m trying to find an audience for a book I wrote in this past year. Yes, I wrote a book. Isn’t that cool? What’s also cool is what’s happening with you. I’d love to hear about it, so comment away and stop this blog from being a monologue.
An honest space. A sharing space. A space where we all leave more emboldened to to take a risk. Too fun, and I have no idea how we’ll accomplish it. But that’s another thing about me. I’m the type of girl to give it a go.
