In the wake of Blissdom Canada, I saw the following tweet.

I am not sure if Danielle was suggesting that it was a bad thing or a good thing, but my reaction was yes, please! Blog like it’s 2006 when I blogged about whatever I wanted and didn’t care who read it? Oh, yes.

2006: before I cared about comments, or promoting posts, or stats.

2006: when the extent of my community was searching keywords in wordpress.com and stumbling upon blogs that interested me – before I subscribed to anything and had my reader overflowing on a daily basis.

2006: when I wrote for myself about what mattered to me without worrying about what people might say on Twitter or Facebook – before I was concerned about trolls or what other people thought.

2006: when blogging was simpler.

This month marks my 5th blogiversary. 2006. This is what I said in my first post:

i hope this blog is filled with insightful, philosophical gems, but anticipate that the reality will be otherwise. i foresee random spewing of daily irritants and happenings.

(Oh, be quiet. Not capitalizing was cool back then).

Maybe Danielle gave me the answer I was looking for, or at least the inspiration to give myself permission to write with abandon.

Inspiration can come in the most unlikely of places. Thanks, Danielle.

I wasn’t planning to go to Blissdom Canada this year. When the tickets went on sale, I didn’t even try to buy one. I was two months away from giving birth and I had no idea what my baby would be like at 5 months old. Besides, I didn’t know who was speaking and as someone who has planned large-scale conferences, I just couldn’t bring myself to shell out money for TBD.

Twice, I was offered tickets to buy and twice, I declined. I didn’t really want to go. I didn’t see the value in it. Finally, a couple of weeks before the conference, someone offered to sell me her ticket, and I caved. Ultimately, I figured I’d regret not going. So, I decided I would to take Em and I knew there would be a lot of people I wanted to see. As October 13 approached, I got increasing excited.

I went. And, I came away with two very distinct impressions.

I don’t see the point of blogging conferences, aside from the social aspect. There, I said it. I just don’t see the value in terms of content. I felt this way about BlogHer, too. To me, it’s a lot of here is what worked for me, but that is not to say it will work for you. I don’t find that helpful. It’s great to hear success stories, but I want some information I can apply. I want something I can take away. I want something I can sink my teeth into that expands my knowledge base and maybe shifts my opinions on things. I want depth.

I think we need to move past who and what, and onto why and how.

What frustrated me most about the content was that, in many cases, it was delivered by the same people I’d heard it from before – last year at Blissdom Canada, in fact. Lovely people. People I admire and care about. But, the same people. Why? There is a wealth of perspectives available. There are people who have knowledge and stories to share. We are many. I want to hear a diversity of voices.

I want to hear from people who do social media for a living – and I am not talking about monetized blogs. I am talking about people who earn a living teaching, consulting, coaching, and creating success stories. Who are the people behind the scenes making big things happen? I want to hear about successful advocacy campaigns and how to engage people. There is a lot happening online that these conferences don’t tap into; there are people sitting in the sessions who are doing remarkable things.

I am not interested in monetizing my blog. I am not interested in working with brands. At all. It is just not going to happen. So, what does a blogging conference offer me? Where is the value?

My only answer is the people. Lovely, loving, accepting people. Like I said, I took Em to Blissdom Canada with me. I packed toys and diapers and changes of clothes into my over-sized purse, armed myself with my sling and headed off. I was a bit nervous. Would she be fussy? Would she be loud? Would people think her a nuisance?

I need not have worried. She was embraced – literally and figuratively. Her presence was not only welcome, it was requested. I nursed her during sessions to “thumbs up” instead of side-eyes. I carried an empty sling around because she was being held in people’s arms. In fact, I have never spent so little time with her! Women whisked her away so I could concentrate on a session, or so I could get my nails done, or get a massage, or so I could go to the bathroom…alone!

People cared for her and about her. And me.

My mom sent me a magnet that reads they say it takes a village to raise a child, but no one ever tells you where it is or how to get there.

I found a village at Blissdom – a community of women who knew enough and cared enough to give me a break. A community of women who didn’t just tolerate my daughter’s presence, but enjoyed it.

So, where does that leave me in evaluating the value of Blissdom Canada? Was it worth the money? I can’t decide, to be honest. The sense of community was invaluable, but is that the only reason to go? I’m not sure.

Most of what I’ve read since the conference has been positive. People seem to be basking in the after-glow. I don’t feel that. I have never felt that after a blogging conference. Maybe I’m doing it wrong. Maybe I need to manage my expectations. Maybe I need to accept that blogging conferences are blogging conferences and the content is just not for me. Maybe I need to spend my time and money at smaller-scale conferences or camps specific to my interests. Or, maybe nowhere at all.

What is your impression of content at large-scale blogging conferences?

Does the social aspect compensate for content if you don’t learn anything?

Do you go to a blogging conference to learn and grow? If not, why not set that standard?

A few days ago, I discovered that one of my favourite people on Twitter deleted her account. Her name is Christine. I had never met her, but I always appreciated her voice and perspective in my timeline.

When asked what happened to her account, her friend directed me to a blog post about her decision to leave. A lot in her post resonated with me, but what resonated most with me from Christine’s post was this:

I am shocked at the polar opposite viewpoints that exist in the world. They are shocking to me and at the same time, they are so distant because I am merely reading about them. It’s as if I’m having a dissonance with reality. I know it’s real but it doesn’t seem real. And other times, the reality is so stark against what exists in my head. It’s all this shifty, uncomfortable, unknowable realm of existence.

Yes.

I struggle so much with this. A lot of what I read online contaminates my mind, yet I feel like I need to read it because it is happening and true. Somewhere. I read about how people feel about my relationship and my children. I see how my relationship is politicized and how my kids’ identities are questioned and confused. I see people arguing about a hierarchy of oppression like it’s a competition – invalidating the lived experience of those deemed to be less oppressed than another. I read blatantly sexist, racist, and homophobic comments.

I am shocked by how freely people express ignorant and bigoted attitudes. I am shocked by what gets attention online – the speed at which negativity spreads astounds me. I am shocked by how much time, energy, and passion people devote to getting into other people’s business, especially when it doesn’t affect them, doesn’t hurt them (or anybody) and never will! I read tweets and articles people link to and often wonder where people get off. It’s too much and, sometimes, it sticks with me for days and longer. I still remember reading a tweet from someone who doesn’t believe in interracial relationships refer to mixed kids as rainbow babies (and not in a good way). I unfollowed her over a year ago. Still, I remember.

I expose myself to countless conflicting perspectives on how to parent and what I should be doing, eating, and boycotting. It’s exhausting. I read about gender identity development without any mention of the patriarchal ideals that influence it.

I live it. I know it exists. I don’t need to read about it every day. It’s too much. Too often.

I understand why Christine left Twitter; I have done it in the past. I deleted my original account years ago after a few months. I was uncomfortable. I felt so vulnerable to being judged and challenged for everything I tweeted. It stressed me out.

The question of authenticity wasn’t an issue for me, though. I’ve been living online in some capacity since 1994. I’ve participated in chat rooms, forums, Myspace and am now active on Facebook and Twitter (among other sites). For 17 years, I’ve been meeting people from the internet, in person and I’ve never had a bad experience -awkward, yes, but not bad.

There is an element of the unknown online. People can be whomever and whatever they want. The veil of anonymity allows them to express themselves to a degree they do not feel free to in person. Because of that, it’s hard to know how consistent people’s online personas are with their offline personalities. Generally, I don’t really think about it. If I like an online persona, then it doesn’t matter to me how “real” the person behind the screen is being. If we ever meet in person, I’ll find out.

Personally, I am pretty consistent. The overlap between my life online and my life offline keeps me in check. On Twitter, I interact with dozens of people I know in real life and all but a handful of my Facebook friends I know personally (many of whom are relatives). That said, even if there was opportunity for me to be different online, I don’t feel the need to. If I am not comfortable saying something as myself, to people I know, it doesn’t need to be said.

Recently though, I have been feeling that living online and being connected all the time has left me feeling disconnected from my life, offline. I feel like I don’t notice things I used to notice and I don’t celebrate the little things that should bring me joy – I just don’t pay attention to what is around me in the same way I once did. So, immediately after reading Christine’s post, I deleted both my Twitter and Facebook apps from my Blackberry. No longer can I lie in bed tweeting, or post a pic on the fly, or potentially update everyone on every little thing that happens to me in a day. I can no longer check my Twitter mentions while having coffee, or wish I could while I am driving around. In order to be connected, I have to actually open up my computer and log in. I think it’ll be a healthier way for me to live – especially with the baby coming. I will be able to focus on what is in front of me and pay attention to those who share my physical space.

I benefit a lot from living online. I have found old friends and met new ones. I can almost immediately get advice from moms I trust. I can keep in touch with family and give them access to recent pictures of Q. I have learned a lot and I learn something valuable everyday.

I have the world at my fingertips, but sometimes I need to step out of that world and focus on the physical one – for my sanity and peace of mind; I need to step away from the inevitable negativity that contaminates my timeline. I don’t think I’d ever actually leave Twitter or Facebook, but I completely understand why Christine did.

Have you ever been tempted to stop living online?
How do you filter and flush out the negativity that you see online?
How do you deal with all the judging that happens on Twitter and Facebook? Do you censor what you say to avoid being challenged?
How important is authenticity to you? Do you expect online personas to match offline personalities?