Last night I went to happy hour with some ladies* from a message board I frequent. This may sound a little weird, meeting people for happy hour that you’re never met before, but the ladies* are all really close. It’s interesting, we’re usually one of the first people we tell things to – pregnancy, miscarriages, new jobs. It’s safe because we typically don’t know a lot of the members in real life, so we don’t have to worry about them telling other people. About once a week, there’s a post about how much we enjoy the other members. They’re all so supportive and we don’t have the kind of snark that the national boards have.
But, I digress. I met two of them last night for some margaritas and mexican food. We had a great time. More than once, they mentioned how funny I am on the board and that when I told everyone we’re moving to Houston, they said to themselves, “I have to hang out with her IRL before she leaves.”
I know! I was as surprised as you probably are. I mean, sometimes I think I’m funny. But that’s usually when I’m speaking in a funny voice, or dancing around the kitchen. And it’s usually only funny to my 16 month old.
A few weeks ago, we went to a party at our friend’s house. A coworker of her’s was there with his girlfriend. Homegirl had been quiet most of the night, just sitting back and observing everything that was going on. As is usually the case when we get together with JR’s friends, there was a lot going on. All of us are pretty outgoing – it’s one of the reasons I get along so well with “his” friends (I know, they’re my friends too, but they were his first so…anyway). At one point, after I finished a long (probably embellashed) story about something JR did, she looked at me and asked if I was a writer. Taken aback, I mumbled something about this blog and my low stats and kinda didn’t know what to say. No, I’m not. I write on a blog that hardly anyone reads (which doesn’t really matter, I’m just sayin’**) and most of the time isn’t not very good. I asked her why she thought that. She replied that I frame stories like a writer. I can’t remember the last time I was given such a nice compliment.
I don’t know the purpose of telling you this. Maybe it’s to look at how people look at you verses how you see yourself. Now that we’re moving, I’ve been thinking about what I want to do. I’d love to stay in the wedding biz, but I feel like I need more of a scheduled day to get things done. JR thinks I’d been good at PR for some big company, but I think of all the times I’ve said something inappropriate and think that’s probably not a good idea. I don’t think I’m a good writer, but could I BECOME one? I don’t know. I’ve always wanted to be published. I just don’t know what to write about.
So in closing, I don’t know what I was saying. Maybe just that I need to take a long look at my strengths, instead of just my weaknesses when I think about a career. Or maybe I should figure out a way to become a professional Member-of-a-message-board-and-happy-hour-goer.
Yeah, that sounds perfect.
* I HATE when people refer to grown women as girls. I’ve been through puberty, I deserve a better moniker.
** My mother-in-law says “I’m just sayin'” ALL.THE.TIME and it drives me up the wall. She says it after just about every statement. And now I’m going to be living within 30 miles of her. Awesome. ; )