friends » Stop, Drop and Blog

Friends: My BlogHer '10 Refresher Course

Aug 092010

I am no stranger to the Internet, to blogging. Deep into my ninth year of blogging, I am constantly reminded of how the relationships I have formed online are so precious to me. Or, rather, let’s just call them friendships — that’s what they are.

I was lovingly teased a few times over the weekend about loving my real life friends — two of whom I turned into bloggers and were in attendance with me — more than my online friends. The conference and time with so many of those that I genuinely considered friends taught me, or rather, reminded me that friends are friends. End of discussion.

When my grandfather died this past January, I called three real-life friends in tears. But I also posted my grief online. For weeks, I received phone calls and emails from both groups, checking on me to see how I was, if my family needed anything or to offer a kind word or story. When I am dealing with heavy adoption related topics, I actually turn to my online friends first, fully recognizing that the lack of face-to-face allows me to be more honest while simultaneously allowing them to kick me in the seat of the pants a little more directly than if we were sitting in the same room. My friends, no matter their location, rejoice with me in the good in my life and weep with me when it all comes crashing down.

The truth is that my heart is unable to recognize if I met you in Kindergarten or in college, at the hospital after one of my children was born or at the coffee shop a few weeks later, on one blog or website or another online medium. If you have offered a piece of yourself to me, if you have shared in my joys and my failures, if I have shared in yours, we are friends.

Over the weekend, I finally met a large number of friends face-to-face. I have known some of them for only months, others for close to a decade. I got to spend time with still others that I don’t get to see nearly enough. I had conversations that were just as deep as those I have with the friends who are able to show up at my house when I’m too sick or overwhelmed to get out of my pajamas. I met other firefighter wives that I didn’t yet know about yet. I met new people, new friends, most of whom I haven’t yet had a chance to read their words on their blogs, but a friendship was formed.

However brief the encounter — like the one I had in the elevator with someone I have quietly adored for years or walking back from a party with another and giggling in a drug store — they all mattered. Deeply. In fact, as we were heading to check out of the hotel, I said some final goodbyes. As I walked away, I had to fight back the tears. You don’t cry when you are leaving people who don’t qualify in your heart as a friend.

I learned a lot at BlogHer, I did. The sessions that I attended inspired me, made me cry and laugh in the same breath and challenged me to consider things differently. I learned that we are powerful. I learned not to wear cute flats, however comfortable, on a three mile photowalk because your hips will fall off the next day. I learned that I can run a 5K. I learned that’s it’s totally possible to drive in NYC. But what I’m taking away from this year’s BlogHer is more than brand interaction and private parties — though I enjoyed both. It’s more than tips to grow your blog or how to nurture your own voice — though I learned a lot. It’s more than new followers and new blogs to read — great stuff, too. For me, BlogHer ’10 was about friendships, new and old and even those yet to come.

In short, which I never am except in height, thank you for being my friend. (Cue song.)

[If you are not in this collage, please don't take it as a slight. Any more photos made them too small to see. All of my photos will be uploaded to my flickr set tonight.]

Nighttime NYC Photo Walk (with Fire Trucks)

blogging, fire life 3 Responses »

Aug 072010

I thought it would be a fantastic idea to take a nearly three mile nighttime photo walk with Burgh Baby (one of my all-time favorite Internet-turned-real-life friends) last night. You know. After I ran a 5K that morning. To be fair, I felt fine. And I still feel fine today. Just some sore feet.

But it was so worth it.

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Mainly because I had great company.

But also because it’s NYC. And things get random. And sparkly.

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And Buzz was there to remind me of my boys.

I complained to Michelle as we walked and talked and talked and walked that the only time that I had seen a lights and sirens fire truck while walking, I didn’t have my camera in hand. As we continued on our way, every lights and sirens situation was an ambulance. I sighed.

And then we stumbled upon a fire house. One in which two of their trucks were just returning.

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And I squealed with joy.

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I’m sure the firefighters were thinking, “Who is this crazy short woman with the tall friend? Why is she squealing with delight and taking 498590409 pictures?” They didn’t know that I was part of their extended family, that my nightshirt while in NYC is one of my husband’s old work shirts. I considered stopping, especially when Michelle pointed out the tall firefighter who, like my husband, didn’t look old enough to drive the fire truck. But my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth and we walked on.

But not before I snapped this with no flash in a low-light situation.

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So worth the sore feet.

Too Young

Living Life 7 Responses »

Jul 132010

I had a big whiny post written about not being packed for our camp trip (which we leave for at 8:00am tomorrow) and my overwhelming work schedule and how the rain made my hair frizzy and how I’m going to put a crap ton of miles on our vehicles in the next eleven days and other such ranty things.

And then I learned that a friend I graduated from high school with had a stroke.

We are 29 years old.

She’s a mom. And she has no feeling in her right arm still nor is she out of the woods regarding risk for another one. As another friend from our class said, “We’re too young for this.” We are. Or are we? I don’t know.

I’m reminded of Anissa, which gives me hope.

I’m also keenly reminded of our humanity, our mortality. Our children.

I’m going to go pack, without complaining. I’m going to finish cleaning up the messes I made today, without complaining. I’m going to finish up my work, pack up the computer and do so with a grateful heart. I’m also going to keep Jessica in my thoughts and prayers. If you can, I ask that you do the same.

Because, really, we are all too young to consider leaving our babies behind.

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[This news has made tomorrow's do-goodery in Pittsburgh take a different spin for me. I hope you'll join the lot of us at the Science Center at 11am.]

Tragedy, The Internet and Honor

Family, Techie Talk 10 Responses »

Jan 252010

When the phone call came on that Sunday morning, I immediately called my husband who was at work. I asked him to come home from the fire station which is where he always is when we have an emergency of some sort. That’s how the fire life works. After I talked to him, I called my best friend back in Pennsylvania, near The Farm, and sobbed at her to contact my parents’ Pastor. She’s the only other person I could have called in that state of incoherency; the only person that could have understood me through my tears.

While waiting for my husband to arrive home, I sat down and both tweeted and posted on Facebook about my grandfather’s sudden death. While people have come under fire for tweeting at a time of tragedy, it was the only thing left that made sense for me to do at the time. I was two hours from my family, waiting for my biggest support person to arrive home and I was absolutely hysterical. I needed to reach out to someone, to anyone.

I’m so glad that I did.

The response that I got was overwhelming (in a good way). Soon the reply tweets, direct messages, Facebook replies, e-mails and phone calls started coming. I still haven’t managed to reply to every single message that came in during the course of a very, very long week of intense grieving. I plan to but it’s been slow going. I received messages from others who had endured similar losses in the recent past. I received sympathy cards. In my snail mailbox. I received a box of Valentine cards (Toy Story, of course) from a friend who wanted to help me “check something off my to-do list,” as her card read. And I received real, physical help from someone I met during another tragic Internet gathering who helped me fix an error with my grandfather’s obituary when it ran without the photo and then showed up at my grandfather’s calling hours on his lunch break. These people reached out to me in my time of need just like my “real life,” just-down-the-road friends who picked up my mail and bought me a coat. Do you know why?

These people on the Internet aren’t just strangers on the other side of a keyboard. They’re friends.

I get frustrated when people dismiss friendships or relationships that were formed via keyboard. The fact that some of these friends sent apology emails, feeling guilty for not being able to attend services, lets me know that we’re more than just anonymous people hiding behind screens. Over the years, through blogs and forums and, yes, even twitter, lasting friendships have been formed. People care about one another. In the midst of this sudden and excruciating loss, I have been comforted by the fact that so many people care about the well-being of my family. Online and off, my family has been touched this week by the outpouring of love. I should make a small aside to say that my friends who live both in Ohio and Pennsylvania were also equally amazing during this very difficult time. Again, I have been so touched and so amazed by the support offered by so many loving individuals.

I’m still not “okay” with this sudden loss. I am still mostly heartbroken, still prone to tears at random moments when he crosses my mind in a memory. I appreciate this space here on the Internet where I can talk about him as I need to, when I can tweet about missing him, and not be reproached for grieving improperly. I am thankful for those who continue to reach out, to ask after my grandmother and to offer support. My grandfather was a loyal man and the loyalty that has been shown to me by my friends, near and far, is something that honors his legacy.

Good job, Internet. Good job. And, mostly, thank you. So very much.