Welcome back to IComLeavWe. It stands for International Comment Leaving Week, but if you say it aloud, doesn’t it sounds like “I come; [but] leave [as a] we”? And that’s sort of the point. Blogging is a conversation and comments should be honoured and encouraged. I like to say that comments are the new hug–a way of saying hello, giving comfort, leaving congratulations.

Here is the vital information, pure and simple (a more detailed set of rules follows below the list):

• The list opens the 1st of every month. It remains open until the 21st. You can add yourself at any point. The list is open to everyone in the blogosphere — blog writers and/or blog readers.
• Add yourself to the list by filling out this form: The list is now closed.  The September list will open on the 1st.
• Click here to cut-and-paste this bit of code to add to your sidebar (if you have the old code from another month, remove it and replace it with this one). You need to add the icon or a link to the current list on your blog (see below) and will not be added until it’s up.
• Commenting kicks off every month on the 21st. Please mark it somewhere (calendar, post-it note taped to your computer…), though I will be sending out an email reminder on the 20th. Commenting week runs from the 21st to the 28th. Every day, leave 5 comments and return 1 comment for a total of 6 comments. You are highly encouraged to choose the blogs you comment on from the participants list below, but this is not required.
• I will send a second email on the 28th to remind you to remove the icon from your blog.
• Read below if you want to find out about Iron Commenters.
• The commenting ends on the 28th. We catch our breath and the whole thing starts again the next month on the 1st. Drop in and out according to what is happening in your life between the 21st and the 28th.

1. Stirrup Queens (twins, books, writing)
2. The 2 Week Wait (ttc, infertility, pregnancy)
3. Feeling Beachie (life, humor, cats)
4. Somewhere in the Middle (infertility, DIA, waiting)
5. Mommy Odyssey (miscarriage, ectopic pregnancy, generally crazy)
6. Babylicious Tales (parenting, first time mom, work)
7. Here We Go Again (parenting, random, babyloss)
8. Chasing Our Stork: Our Journey with Infertility (international adoption, graduate school, Hashimoto’s thyroiditis)
9. Tippy & Tidy’s Tumultuous Trip To Toddlers (TTC#1, IVF, unexplained)
10. MoJo Working (infertility, IVF veteran, miscarriage)
11. It’s Definitely Possible (SMC, pregnancy, birth options)
12. BattleFish (life, if/ivf, random)
13. The One in Eight Couple (unexplained infertility, gearing up for IUI #1, hope)
14. The Journey to Baby G (IVF, FET, expat)
15. Walking An Unknown Path (miscarriage, life, unexplained infertility)
16. CD1 Again (infertility, life, taking a break)
17. Created Family (unexplained infertility, miscarriage, social work)
18. for all the things we hope for (infertility, hiking, doula work)
19. Dragondreamer’s Lair (parenting, secondary infertility, crafts)
20. Hobbit-ish Thoughts & Ramblings (parenting after IF/RPL, books, cooking)
21. Life As I Know It (parenting, life, random)
22. Digital-Damita.net (frugal, green, ttc over a year)
23. Donor Diva: Mother via Egg Donation (egg donation, infertility, parenting)
24. Marriage 2.0 (domestic adoption, weight loss, life)
25. Not Just An Army Wife (iui, miscarriage, military)
26. It Is What It Is (Or Is It?) (adopting #2, parenting, life)
27. Lissie’s Luck (IVF results ???)
28. Write Mind Open Heart (open adoption, mindfulness, perfect moments)
29. The Oregon Tail (motherhood, moving, toddlers)
30. Becoming Parents (ART, recurrent pregnancy loss, TTC #1)
31. Wonderfully Ordinary (TTC again, infertility, parenting)
32. Lifeslurper (IVF, over forty, donor eggs)
33. Compromised Fertility (PCOS, FET, TTC #1)
34. InDueTime (life, infertility, college)
35. Ambition: Motherhood (diui, mfi, hope)
36. No Suzy Homemaker (pregnant after losses)
37. Meier Madness (PCOS, IUI take 2, gardening)
38. PursuingParenthood (weight loss for fall IUI, firefighter’s wife, orthodoxy)
39. Mommy-In-Waiting (pregnant, twins, IVF#4)
40. I Believe In Miracles (RPL, motherhood after adoption)
41. Funny Little Pollywogs (embryo adoption, photography, food)
42. Infertile is the New Black (infertility, ttc, coping)
43. A Miracle in the Works (DOR, IUI, TTC after a loss)
44. Acorn Chronicles (work/life balance, parenting, sarcasm)
45. I Want to be a Daddy (male infertility experience)
46. The Days of Our Lives (infertility, faith, adoption)
47. Bring on the Babies… (IVF, recurrent pregnancy loss, miscarriage)
48. lifeinflux (life changes, parenting, life goals)
49. A Little Hope in My Pocket (pregnancy loss, infertility, life)
50. Creating a Family (infertility, adoption, adoptive parenting)
51. MyJourney7283 (ttc, infertility, miscarriage)
52. Trying To Conceive (pregnancy after IVF)
53. Plan B(aby) for an SMBC (ivf, smbc, faith)
54. Poor Lucky Me (pregnant again after loss)
55. TheFertilityDaily (free IVF contest, infertility, humor)
56. Articulation (life, faith, random stuff)
57. MommyForward (motherhood, self-improvement, adoption)
58. Climber’s Blog Gone Mommy (climbing, donor eggs, twins)
59. We’re Making a Baby (twin pregnancy (again), parenting, life after IF)
60. Traditionally Nontraditional (infertility, life, humor)
61. The Road Less Traveled (parenthood after embryo adoption)
62. Kate; Uncensored (life, depression, relationships)
63. Musings of a Hormonal Egg Basket (parenting after IVF)
64. Someday (azoospermia, IVF pregnancy, birth choices)
65. This Hampton Life of Mine (secondary infertility, pcos, iui)
66. For We Are Bound by Symmetry (ttc#1, unexplained infertility, ivf#1?)
67. A Mommy Summers Thoughts (being mom & wife)
68. Survive and Thrive (infertility, laparoscopy, dogs)
69. My Lady of the Lantern (neonatal loss, grief, pregnant again)
70. Cablearms (miscarriage, life, photography)
71. Zero Guarantees (after 10 years, twins on the way)
72. Eggs In A Row (pcos, infertility, coping)
73. MommyForward (motherhood, self-improvement, adoption)
74. The Rocky Road to Motherhood (parenting after IVF)
75. Taking the Long Way (pregnant, rpl (miscarriage and ectopic), hope)
76. Write, Baby, Repeat (open adoption, DE pregnancy, parenting)
77. Better, Not Bitter (infertility, pcos, trying to be better)
78. Holly’s Narrative Dream (secondary infertility, coping, life)
79. Many Waters (life, faith and music)
80. Flogging the Muse (art, painting, creativity)
81. …and it is here that we dance! (faith, family, life)
82. Rasta Less Traveled (donor egg, surrogacy in India, infertility)
83. It’s Just Us Chickens (ivf1, ttc, mfi)
84. Let’s Conversate About Irregardless (ivf, 80s, sarcasm)
85. A Page In My Book (family (IF grad), recipes, everyday life)
86. Infertile Follies (infertility, FET, ectopic pregnancy)
87. Wishing and Hoping and Thinking and Praying (pregnancy loss, infertility, life)
88. The Infertility Doula (support, advice, news)
89. Jenn The Infertile (TTC, MFI, infertility)
90. Exploring Chaos (infertility, tww, ttc#2)
91. TTC Baby E (pcos, ttc#1, ivf#1)
92. Life in the White House (donor sperm, life, pregnancy)
93. The Ladies in Waiting Book Club (infertility, books, community)
94. Whitney & Erick (RPL, adoption?, celiac)
95. Buck Up, Buttercup (early pregnancy after loss, creativity, outdoors)
96. Endo&Beyond (infertility, endometriosis, food)
97. A Greater Yes (embryo adoption, parenting, infertility)
98. Cradles and Graves (multiple losses, ivf, rainbow!)
99. Empty Whole (MFI, brain injury, next?)
100. The Barreness (art, memories, infertility)
101. Mission: Fertile Soul (infertility, adoption, happiness)
102. From IF to When (international, adoption, newbie)
103. Fertile in G-d’s Timing (faith, infertility, waiting on G-d)
104. Your Mom Doesn’t Really Love Christmas (gender, family, motherhood)
105. GoTeamBaby (ivf, hope, infertility)
106. Bean Dreams (infertility, hope, IUI)
107. Embracing the Rain (mthfr, dor, rpl)
108. The Infertility Overachievers (pregnant after IVF)
109. Cammie.Me (parenting, unemployed, cooking)
110. Grimm Tales (parenting, life, humor)
111. wanna bee (adoption, loss, craftiness)
112. The list is now closed.  The September list will open on the 1st.

Q: What if I miss a day?

A: Catch up the next day by doubling your comments – 12 comments instead of 6.

Q: What if I have two blogs? Can I sign up twice, listing both blogs?

A: Yes, but you also need to double your comments. If you have two blogs listed, you should be leaving 12 comments per day.

Q: What is an Iron Commenter?

A: Not for the faint-of-heart. People who wish to be an Iron Commenter and be entered on the Iron Commenter honour roll need to leave a comment on every blog on the participants list (exceptions are blogs that require you to have a special log-in, such as some LiveJournal accounts or other similar situations). You can spread out this commenting any way you wish over the whole week, but the final comment needs to be left by midnight on the 28th (EST). Reaching Iron Commenter status is done on an honour system. Please email me if you earn Iron Commenter status so I can add you to the wall of honour.

Q: Why do I have to add that bit of code to my sidebar?

A: The code is the latest icon (the icon changes colour every month so you know that you’re on the right list). This month, the icon is purple, the next month it will be yellow, etc. The reason is two-fold: (1) it enables more people to find out about IComLeavWe and (2) it gives you easy access to the current list once the commenting week actually begins and better ensures that you’ll use it. Too many times, people sign up and forget to actually do IComLeavWe and this icon gives you a daily reminder (with the dates on it) every time you open your own blog. The icon is linked back to the current list. On the 28th, remove the icon from your blog. A new one will be created for the next month.

Q: It’s the 23rd and I just saw this for the first time on my friend’s blog! I want to join the list–why can’t I?

A: Because IComLeavWe happens every month, once the list is closed, it’s closed. If you’re finding out about this on the 23rd, you can’t join the current month. But leave yourself a note to check back in a week on the 1st and you can sign up for the next month.

Q: You said the list closes on the 21st. Well, it’s still the 21st where I am. Why aren’t you moving my information onto the list?

A: All dates and times are U.S. Eastern Standard Time (UTC/GMT -5 hours). The list closes around 11 p.m. EST on the 21st.

Q: What if no one comments on my blog and I have no comments to return?

A: Well, that really doesn’t happen for the most part, but in that case, simply choose another blog and add an additional comment. The goal is to hit 6 comments daily as a minimum. Going over that is fantastic and encouraged.

Q: Mel, my question wasn’t covered at all. What do I do?

A: Email me; I’m quite friendly. It helps to place “IComLeavWe” in the subject line. You could also check this post which contains the history of IComLeavWe and see if you can glean anything there.

Looking for the comment section? It has been closed on this post. Use the form in the directions to add yourself to the list.

I have been double-fisting Jon Ronson’s books this summer, which sounds far dirtier than is actually the case.  What happened was that I really wanted to read The Psychopath Test after downloading the sample from Kindle.  But I got squeamish over the idea of reading about psychopaths and having the book in my house (Ronson thinks he’s neurotic, but he obviously has nothing on me).

I knew I liked his earlier book, Them (I used it in a sociology class I taught), so I decided to get The Men Who Stare at Goats for the beach, feeling that it was a less-scary alternative to the more current The Psychopath Test.  But midway through the paper version of Men Who Stare at Goats, I got an electronic version of The Psychopath Test (which isn’t as scary as I feared).  So now I had two Ronson books at the same time — one that I could read on the beach (paper) and one that I could read in the hotel room (electronic).

And both are fantastic.

He’s first and foremost an excellent writer with a knack for choosing subjects that with very little work become infinitely interesting.  An article about Al Dunlop in a newspaper may not hold my interest.  A chapter about Al Dunlop in Ronson’s very capable hands becomes fodder for dinner conversation as you relay what you just read.  Both were literally the type of books that (1) you want to read with others so you can all talk about it and (2) make you forgo other activities so you can read another chapter.

Really really good reads.

Well done, Mr. Ronson.

So that is my beach read recommendation: something you can jump in and out of effortlessly because you always remember where you left off.  What are your beach read recommendations for anyone looking for a book?  I mean, beyond Life from Scratch.  Which, I heard, rocks.

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Plans are underway (thank you, Kristin!) to grab lunch/dinner at BlogHer.  If you’re going to the conference or will be in the San Diego area, go over and let her know so you stay in the loop.

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And now the blogs…

But first, second helpings of the posts that appeared in the open comment thread last week.  In order to read the description before clicking over, please return to the open thread:

• “On This Day” (Slowmamma)
• “Living with Infertility, Take Two” (Hannah Wept, Sarah Laughed)
• “Don’t Wanna Be All By Myself” (The Pursuit of Pregnancy)
• “Right Where I Am” (Still Life with Circles)
• “Livin’ the Dream” (Not Imitation Cheese)
• “Typepad is the Devil” (Smartness)

Okay, now my choices this week.

Still Life with Circles has a lovely series of snippets about her Beezuz, Thor, and Lucy, and I thought the simplicity of jumping from thought to thought really showed her reach as a writer.  The snippet that particularly got to me was the one about the unacknowledged waves to the pigs.

Are You Kidding Me gets to the heart of the matter with life on the Internet, with a word of helpful advice: if it bothers you, get off of it.  It’s as simple as turning off the computer.  But I do love her unpacking of blogs and social media sites.

I LOVE this post by Edenland about the sign next to her bed.  You will need to click over to see what it says, but I think it’s something everyone should post in their eye-line upon awakening (or your own variation).  And it’s this piece of honesty that I makes this post brilliant: “I battle with severe – and I mean HUGE self-esteem issues. My thinking can get all warped and slide into paranoia, delusions, extreme fear. It’s really bad, and sometimes I spiral down so very low. Like that fucked-up dreg from a piece of soap that nobody wants to wash themselves with.”

Lastly, Finding My New Normal had a dream about rainbows and explains how this ties in to her current donor egg cycle.  She writes: “So what started as dates on a piece of paper has turned into something that may actually happen.”  The words are infused with her excitement; her nervousness, her happiness, her embracement of hope.  Cheer her on for this leg of the journey.

The roundup to the Roundup: My beach read book recommendations — what are yours?  Will you be at BlogHer and do you want to get together?  And lots of great blog posts to read.  So what did you find this week?  Please use a permalink to the blog post (written between July 22nd and July 29th) and not the blog’s main url. Not understanding why I’m asking you what you found this week?  Read the original open thread post here.

On multiple listservs that I’m on (including Prompt-ly!), the same article has been floated out for discussion.  Adweek’s article on creating child-free spaces by banning children has a subtitle: “A new marketing movement aims to protect the childless from germy broods.”

I understand how it could be enticing, especially since I often go through phases where I simply don’t want to see babies.  Even though I have children, it doesn’t mean I’m cool always being around children (especially stranger’s children; I’m usually always okay around the babies of friends and family), and babies can be salt in a very open wound.  There are also times when we go out, let’s say to a film, and we don’t expect nor want to see children there.  We’d like to see the film uninterrupted, and a child kept up past a normal bedtime is probably going to become disruptive.  So I totally get that desire to know without a doubt that you will not be encountering a child in certain places.

And I still wouldn’t patron a business that made that decision for the parent.

This is my feeling on bans and how I gauge my feelings on them.  I replace the word “children” with another group.  Would everyone support a ban on Jews in movie theaters?  Why not?  We’re freakin’ loud as all get out and we talk through films.  We leave our cell phones on and eat bagels in the theater, dropping the crumbs.  Would everyone support a ban on Jews in first class on an airplane?  Why not?  Again, we’ll talk your ear off, and if you paid a lot for your seat and you want peace and quiet, don’t sit next to a Jew.

(For all the Jews who are sucking your breath in at this moment, I’m saying this to make a point — not because I think I should be banned from places…  Though we do sometimes talk a lot, nu?)

I am pro-banning behaviours, but never pro-banning people.  I am totally fine that our east coast trains have a silent car and you can’t use your cell phone there, and I would never be offended if an airline said that first class was a “silent cabin.”  That said, I would hope they’d come down just as hard on chatty Jews, rock stars, AND children.  But I wouldn’t support an airline that bans children (or any group of people) from first class, even though I have never flown first class and probably never will.

I like child-free spaces just as much as the next person, and there are plenty of days that I do not want to encounter children.  But that’s on me.  Again, replace the word “children” with another group.  Would it ever be okay to say that we want Jews banned from a business just because we don’t want to see Jews?  Because they’re too expressive with their hands and eat smelly garlicy hummus and speak their throat-clearing language very loudly?

When I really don’t want to see kids, I stay home.  When I really don’t want to see kids but must go out, I try to choose a place that few parents would bring a child.  And if they do, I have to suck it up to be part of society (and usually, if that child is behaving, I can even tune them out).

And if they do bring their child AND the child is disturbing everyone else’s meal/movie/activity, I have no problem addressing the behaviour or asking the management to address the behaviour.  Because not talking in a movie, let’s say, is a given regardless of age.

Being part of society means dealing with all members of a society; not picking and choosing the ones whose main characteristics are palatable with my desires.  It would never be okay to ban whole groups of people based on race, gender, or ethnicity.  Therefore, I can’t support it based on age.  I wouldn’t want elderly people banned, and I don’t want children banned.  Though I’d totally support a noisy people ban and if that sweeps out children (as well as loud-talking, half-deaf elderly people and those pesky expressive Jews*), so be it.  Ban the behaviour; not the person.

So those are my thoughts and they’re not set in stone if you can argue passionately.  I truly do want to hear the other side as well as additional thoughts on banning children from public spaces.

* For the love, y’all know I’m Jewish, hence why I picked it as my example.  I’m not hating on Jews but merely being facetious to make a point.  Replace “Jews” with your group of choice.

A few weeks ago, we had to go up for our yearly trip to Bucks County and we passed the place where we witnessed the motorcycle accident last year.  I still think about that man all the time, especially when I’m driving in light rain near our house where I often see deer.  When the police officer took the report the afternoon of the accident, he told us that deer often become spooked during grey, in-between weather and run out in the road.

For a while after the accident, I Googled it, looking for information about the man’s condition, but there were so many accidents on that road that it was impossible to know which one was ours.  We just had to trust that he recovered.

As we passed the spot, Josh and I quietly murmured back and forth in the front seat, replaying the accident with words.  When we drove back home, passing the spot again, we did it instinctively a second time, with a reverence and automation often associated with prayer.

What neither of us noticed last year when we stood on the side of the road in the rain, screaming into the phone to the emergency dispatcher, was that the man’s body had landed right outside the gates of an enormous cemetery.  An enormous, well-established, headstone-worn cemetery.

*******

The man certainly doesn’t remember me.  He wasn’t even conscious for the most part, and his body was so traumatized by the impact that I doubt he even remembers Josh who was with him while I was on the phone.

But his accident changed the way I drive.  The way I pay attention to the sides of the street.  I used to drive a shortcut through this state park when I was pressed for time, and now I choose my route based on the weather.  I don’t like to drive in the woods at twilight or when there is that grey, in-between weather.

I don’t even exist to that motorcyclist, but he changed my world enormously.

And the strangest part is that he is continuing to live (since I am assuming that he recovered), riding his motorcycle through this world, and he has no idea that I’m thinking about him.

*******

I often wonder who is thinking about me without me even knowing that I’m inside their brain.

*******

I dropped off the twins for their first day at camp.  The ChickieNob was beyond nervous — she had worked herself up to a stomachache in the car and burst into tears when her counselor opened the door.  I parked the car and got out to wait with them until it was time to go inside to their room.

As we sat there, this quiet girl sitting near us saw a kindred spirit in the ChickieNob, and the two of them started a conversation in their whispery little voices.  If that hadn’t happened, I’m not sure the ChickieNob would have let go of my hand when it was time for me to leave.  But as it was, she was engaged in unloading her massive first-day-of-camp anxieties on this girl, and the two of them walked into the camp together.

Thirty years from now, unless they strike up a lasting friendship, that girl may not remember my daughter.  Or maybe she will — maybe I have no idea what that moment meant to that little girl.  All I know is what it meant to the ChickieNob and how she might think about this girl in the future, turning her around in her brain like a ballerina rotating in an eternal pirouette.  Without that girl, she may not have walked inside.

And this girl will have no idea that she is inside the ChickieNob’s mind, thirty years from now, when she drops her own child off for that first day of camp.  I was certainly thinking that morning about the little girls who got me through my first days of camp — wherever those girls might be now.

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When I drove off the campus, squelching my own anxieties about their first day of camp, I distracted myself with a random thought of a random person that I knew through my old camp.  We called him Tate, though that wasn’t his real name.  He was the geeky older brother of a boy in my unit — only a year older but I didn’t know him.

We were on a camping trip together when I was a C.I.T. and we shared a tent because he had the new They Might Be Giants album and a Walkman.  That night, after the campers went to sleep, we laid in our sleeping bags, each with a single ear bud and our heads close together and listened to “Flood.”  I don’t think we ever went to sleep.  At dawn, we both went jogging along the canal while we waited for the rest of the group to get up.

I think about Tate any time I see the canal or hear They Might Be Giants, which means that he often pops into my brain.  He exists there at least once or twice a month in the winter; more frequently in the summer when we go down to the river/canal more often.  I have no way to prove it, but I doubt I pop into his brain.  We were never good friends — we were just two people who jumped into each other’s life for somewhere between a brief moment and a few weeks — and those types of people are rarely remembered.  Except when the moment meant a lot to one of the people.

Sometimes I think about one of these liminal people who have a foot both in the well of forgotten encounters and the world of lasting memories.  Who barely have a history with me — certainly not a friendship — and therefore will most likely not remember me even if I remember them*.

Sometimes I’ll look them up on Facebook, try to figure out their life based on pictures or wall posts if they’re open to the public.  I never send a friend request because it would be too strange, trying to explain who I am, reconstruct memories for them.  It would seem weird to admit that I still think about them, even though I would completely understand if someone approached me and admitted that.  But I could see how someone might be confused if I wrote them out of the blue, telling them how much they’ve influenced my life from a random moment, how they might feel if they didn’t even remember me.

Still, I wish there was an alumni newsletter for people who have moved in and out of my life.  A three-page, xeroxed handout listing what everyone has been up to.  I wouldn’t mind these people knowing how much they’ve changed who I am.  I would love to know who considers me one of those liminal people, influencing their life even though I might not even remember ever meeting.

Describe one person who would be in your life’s alumni newsletter, a person who would never remember you if you tried to friend them on Facebook, but you still think about them to this day and they’ve changed the way you live your life.

The truth is when I said last week that I can’t keep up, I often can’t keep up with any of it.  I can’t keep up with Twitter and Facebook.  I certainly can’t keep up with the ever-changing social media field, jumping on each new site as it comes down the pike.  I can’t always keep up with the blog reading.  I find that I go through big stretches where I read without commenting because I’m reading from the iPad vs. on the computer.

If you had asked me a while back to describe myself, I would have told you that I move quickly.  But now, the stream of information, connection, opportunities moves too quickly for me.  I constantly come to the realization that I can’t keep up.

I can’t really keep up with blog writing sometimes.  I like to use it as a writing exercise before I start writing for the day.  A warm up.  A stretch.  Sometimes I need to use it to take something out of my head so I stop obsessing on it (and Josh, by the way, says thank you to all of you for being my listeners so he doesn’t have to be the only one hearing my thoughts).

I don’t like to feel obligated to post, though sometimes I do.  Obligated is the wrong term; it’s not that I feel like it’s a certain day of the week and I. must. post (except for perhaps Fridays with the Roundup).  It’s more that I’m itching to connect with people and this is the way I do it.  It’s more this burning need to write something good that will spark a conversation.

And even that; sometimes I can’t keep up with that.

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I think this topic is mentally pinballing through my brain because the BlogHer conference is coming up.  I feel like my impulses haven’t changed.  When I went to San Francisco in 2008, I wanted to meet people face-to-face.  I didn’t really want to do the parties; I just wanted to get dinner with bloggers so we could hear each other and talk.  Some people wanted to party; others felt like me.  I was able to find my like-minded group easily.

In Chicago in 2009, there were some rumblings of branding, but again, it was very similar to San Francisco.  I met up with people I wanted to meet.  I did a lot of lunches and dinners with bloggers and then retired to my room to sleep before the panels the next day.  I tried out the parties and left them (but not before taking a tiara favour that I still wear around the house) because we weren’t a good fit, though I’m glad I tried them.

In New York in 2010, it felt like there was a shift.  A lot of people were speaking about branding.  They were skipping the panels to go to private events held by brands.  They were spending a lot of time in the swag rooms, talking with brands about how they could work together.  All of these things weren’t problematic in my eyes in-and-of themselves (I can also see the desire to monetize a blog; to turn a hobby into a living.  I have essentially done that myself inadvertently,  and I love that I can financially contribute to our family via writing).  But I had a harder time finding people who wanted to just sit and talk.  With me.  Without looking over my shoulder to see if there was someone better to meet that could forward along their goals.  I had fun in New York, but it was harder to meet up with that small group of like-minded people because the crowd was so large.  It was hard to find one another.

And now I am going to the 2011 conference, and I have a lot of fears of whether I’ll find the people this time who feel the way I do when there are going to be thousands of people there.  Who are simply excited to see someone face-to-face that they only converse with via email or read their blog.  I am worried that this year, I won’t find my people who want to grab dinner and quietly talk.  That everyone will be scattered to the parties.  I feel like, in general, it is easier to find people wanting to talk about branding and sponsorship than about writing.  I am hoping my perception is wrong.

I know I will find my like-minded people because I know from the comments on that last post that other nerd girls like me exist (nerd girls unite!).  We blog for the sake of blogging.  We may take opportunities sometimes, we may dabble in Twitter sometimes, we may wish aloud that we could get offered a new stovetop/oven due to our clout.  But at the core, it’s about the writing.  It’s about stringing words together.  Trying to convey ideas.  Trying to evoke emotions in another person.

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As I said in that post, I am doing my first sponsored post this week.  I have mixed feelings about it.  On one hand, I am grateful for the opportunity.  Without it, I wouldn’t have the items I’m about to have.  On the other, it feels like you lose a little bit of yourself too.

Everything has a cost.  There are no free items.  You pay in time or energy.  You certainly pay in creativity.  While I work on this sponsored post, I’m not working on one of my own choosing.  Or working on the book.

I agreed to do the post after I did an hour of undercover work at the store to make sure I was okay putting my name on it.  I’ve shopped at this store before, but never with the mentality of writing a post about it.  The store appealed to my interests, it appealed to my commie tendencies.  There is a good chance that I would have written about this store at some point in the future without being asked or given free items, just as I have written about LL Bean, IKEA, and Starbucks VIA without being asked nor compensated.  So why did the whole idea of a sponsored post for a business I actually like give me such pause?

Josh jokingly told me that in writing it, I had created a horcrux.  “You gave away your soul, just like Voldemort.”

Did I figuratively kill something with writing a sponsored post?  Did I tuck my soul away for some gear?  Was I now less of a writer, just as Voldemort was less of a human?

I usually think that “sell out” is a term those still in the trenches throw at those who are handed a great opportunity that we all want.  It’s a word that I think tells more about the speaker than the object of its definition.  And here I was, internally throwing this word at myself.  So what did that mean if I was the speaker and the receiver?

Voldemort shed his humanity, and I do think that in branding, we shed our creativity.  We become lesser writers.  We slither over the floor of the Internet rather than flying above our words.  I don’t truly hurt anyone other than myself with a sponsored post, though I may be abusing your eyes.  But this analogy of the horcrux spoke to me.  I feel like with each sponsored post, you both become powerful to other brands and you lose part of yourself.

I am trying desperately to hold onto myself.  To stick to my impulses to connect with others (that is, when I’m not hiding out in my room being all quiet).  To keep up.

To let go when I realize that I can’t keep up.  And accept that.