I’m going to New York City in a few weeks.  It’s no biggie, really.  Just a blogging conference with approximately 3 billion zillion 4,500 other writers.  We’re going to talk about….well, stuff.  Writerly, blogging stuff.  So it’s totally under control, this trip.  I’m not nervous in the slightest.  Because it’s a very common occurence that I’m in a room with a billion zillion other women (and maybe even some dudes)who love live eat breathe pee sweat and bleed writing.

Writing.

It defines me.  I think in blog posts.  I laugh in italics.  I take furious notes in my calendar when Max says something silly or hits a milestone early.  I take notes so that I can write.  So I can live it again, here.  With all of you.  I get high when I hit “publish”.  I feel your hand in mine after I pour the words out for all to see, and you throw a sweater over my shoulders when I do the walk of shame the next morning.   Through it all, you have embraced me.  You are my people.

Hello, New York.

I’m Kim.  It’s nice to meet you.  Do you mind if I sit here?  I’m sorry what?  Oh, umm…I’m a mommy blogger.  I mean, no.  Um…I’m a parenting, umm, yeah…I’m a writer.  That’s it, I’m a WRITER.  And you?  You’re a writer too?  No shit?! Do you have kids?  ME TOO!  A three year old boy??  ME TOO!  What was that?  OH SHIT!  I am SO sorry, I didn’t mean to put my laptop right there, I totally didn’t see your coffee I am SO sorry!  Wait, wait, wait, let me clean it up for you, and I’ll totally go grab you a new one.  What do you drink?  Half coffee half creamer two sugars?!  ME TOO!!!  OH MY GOD WE ARE SO BEST FRIENDS WHO WERE MEANT TO BE!!!  Are you going to SparkleCorn??  Of course you can borrow my glitter headband!!  What are besties for??

Why yes, I do have imaginary conversations in my head with myself.  Just.getting.prepared.

So maybe I’m a little overwhelmed.  And more than mildly excited.  I spent three hours of Max-free time yesterday browsing the mall in search of outfits that were not too pretentious but super trendy and mildly left-of-center but still represented my “brand”.

Because you know, if you’re going to BlogHer you need to know your “brand”.

Whatever the fuck that means.

I think I’m nautical.  Get it?  Mama By The Bay.  Nautical is sooo in right now.  I’m thinking blue chevron striped Maxi dress with a red rope bracelet.  Comfortable shoes, because MoMo has sufficiently scared me out of wearing my 6 inch orange Prada platforms.  Whatever.  They’re way cooler than they sound, but I guess she knows best.  But while I’m at it, I do need a tiny tee with anchors on it, and maybe some navy blue pants, and I won’t lie I spent all of Max’s naptime yesterday browsing Etsy for a personalized cell phone cover/laptop case/business card holder and I think I should get a manicure with a cute little anchor on one finger and before I forget I do need to book my next highlight appointment and do you think it would be overkill to get a single pink highlight in my hair because that might make people really think that I’m edgy.  Which I guess isn’t exactly nautical.  What’s that?  Oh, right…my blog redesign (the one with the Mama By The Bay title that matches my Twitter Handle and my web address and my business cards?  The one with the nautical theme?) hasn’t happened yet.  That’s one of those “Holy shit get this done before BlogHer oh my god crap we’re running out of time!” things.  Quick!  Go buy a red striped t-shirt and an anchor necklace and make all of this go away!!!

Good thing I’m going to BlogHer for the writing.  yeahhhh.

You know what I hope?  I hope that my first day at BlogHer is like my first day in Up With People.  No, no, don’t click away…stay with me for a second!!  I was 21 when I joined Up With People.  I packed an enormous bag, and walked off a plane in Denver and into a crowd of a few hundred other people from over 20 different countries.  We sat quietly, horribly homesick, on some folding chairs, and suddenly the show began.  And as the stage started flooding with performers and directors,  a few hundred strangers friends started singing along.  And dancing.  And glowing with the warm relief of belonging.  These are my people.  I belong here.  They understand me.  They live and eat and breathe the music.  They feel this music.  This is my home.

I hope, I know, that when I walk into BlogHer I will feel the same way.  I wasn’t the best dancer that summer.  And lord knows I was definitely not the best singer.  But there was a place for me in the chorus, and you can sing as loud as you want there.  I’m not gonna lie, when people ask me about my summer plans I proudly announce “I’m going to a blogging conference.  You know, for writers.”  And they gasp, and for a brief second (ok maybe more) I let them think that I am a BIG. DEAL.  Because they don’t know that it’s really open to anybody and my pageviews on an excellent day are in the low three digits.  Whatever.  There’s a place for me in the chorus.  So I’m no Arnebya, but you can bet your ass that I’ll be cheering the loudest for her when she reads at Voices Of The Year.  I belong in this chorus.  These are my people.  I have no doubt that being a billion zillion miles from the Left Coast will feel like no distance at all, because I will listen to the words of writers, and know that I am home.

BlogHer ’12, you and me baby, we’re on a date with destiny.

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