What're you lookin' at? | Ramblings from a self-proclaimed yada yada yada...ist

This is not for you

When I first started blogging in 2004, I didn't have a set list of goals or a long-term plan. I didn't know about revenue streams or the Long Tail or Technorati. I blogged because writing has always been important to who I am, and publishing online was the best way to do that at the time.

And four years later, it still is. Though the medium is different from handwriting a journal, the result is still the same: putting my thoughts into words and making sense of what I feel. Working through complicated emotions to get to a better place. Not all of my entries are like that, of course, but each time my fingers are brave enough to verbalize the tangents in my mind, there is always a sense of clarity. And I'm thankful for that. I'm thankful to have a comfortable way to express myself. And I'm thankful to have found friends through this Web site who like to read about me and my family and want to see us succeed.

But I'm not writing this blog for you.

I got to thinking about this because of a comment thread on a blog I've been following for years. Julie from a little pregnant always talks frankly about her struggles with infertility, child-rearing, and growing her family. Not even two weeks ago she gave birth to her second son, and on Sunday she shared with the Internet her decision to stop nursing her baby. A brave move, to be sure, because as we veteran blog readers all know, just about every breastfeeding discussion turns into a heated debate filled with catch phrases like "breast is best," and "I had formula and I turned out fine," and nursing advocates post facts about the substandardness of formula, and at least one formula feeder refers to members of La Leche League as Nazis (which is definitely one of the most insulting things I've ever heard. SO inappropriate), and it's always the same argument over and over and over until the blogger closes comments and everyone takes a cold shower. You know, because they're all heated up.

Anyway, as usual, the comments started out innocent enough: women sharing their nursing stories, both positive and negative, and then commenter #120 (if you check it out, remember that author names appear below their comments) tells Julie to "suck it up" because she herself "kept at it and it got better." Of course, readers jump out of the woodwork to defend Julie, #120 comes back to explain her position, and yet another person (#173 on this entry) laments over everyone's inability to respectfully disagree with Julie's "position." She said:

I agree with the decision not to nurse, but I don't agree with the notion that nobody is allowed to disagree on a public blog on the very public internet. Isn't sharing a ideas part of why people write on the internet? If they couldn't handle disagreement, they'd just talk to their best friends. To me, it lessens the value of the blog if everyone acts like a rabid dog, needing to defend the author, every time someone states an opinion that isn't popular here.

A few more popped up like that, and it really bugged me, but I couldn't verbalize why. It IS a public forum, right? Most bloggers DO appreciate comments, right? So they should be strong enough to let presumpious remarks roll off their backs, right?

Um, no.

I don't where people got the idea that a blog entry about someone's life is just as open to criticism as a newspaper article or research paper. Not all topics are deserving of the same type of scrutiny. For example, in this case, Julie blogged about why she plans to discontinue nursing. She talked about why it wasn't working for her, how she tried to rectify the situation, and why she ultimately decided to let it go. She acknowledges that breastmilk is the nutritionally superior food source, and she doesn't try to make formula sound better than it is. She just says that bottle feeding is the choice that allows her to hold onto the most of her sanity.

She's not writing an op-ed for the American Academy of Pediatrics. She's not trying to turn the tide against nursing. She's just talking about her life. On her personal Web site, a site that's not supposed to serve as a be-all, end-all source of information. So when people disagree with her, they're not disagreeing with facts. They're disagreeing with her life. They voiced confusion over Julie's reasons for quitting and disappointment in her choice, neither of which were up for public debate.

And that's what pisses me off. Oftentimes people get so caught up in taking a stand for their cause they forget there's a human being on the other end of the computer, reading words that were no doubt meant to shame and hurt and judge, words that'll be ignored for that very reason. How many women continued breastfeeding because somebody called them a fuck-up or a terrible mother? Whatever happened to "You can catch more flies with honey than vinegar"?

But this isn't about breastfeeding.

I read enough blogs that it's not uncommon for someone to post a sentiment I don't agree with. One of my favorite reads recently talked about how she thought she might have been pregnant with a surprise third child, and how if she had been pregnant, she would have considered having an abortion. Talk about hitting close to home! I'm pregnant with a surprise baby, and abortion was never an option for me. It was sad to think about that being an option for her.

But you know what? Despite my strong feelings, I stayed out of her comments section. Not only did she not ask for my opinion, my opinion didn't matter. She was obviously in pain about possibly having to make the decision in the first place; nothing except "Take good care" would have been the slightest bit helpful. Plus, I deeply respect this woman as a writer and a mother, and if part of the reason I enjoy her blog is because of her wit, then I'm going to assume she's an educated person who can manage her own life. And if she's not? It's not my place to tell her what to do, especially since there's nothing I can do to help her. If she was pregnant and she did have the baby, it's not like I could pinch-hit for a midnight feeding or baby-sit her older kids or even bring dinner.

(Unless it was spinach dip. But I digress.)

It's been said a thousand times before, but I like to think of visiting another blog as visiting another person's home. If I wouldn't say it in someone's home--better yet, to their face!--I won't say it on their blog. That's not to say I always keep opinions to myself, but it's important to remember what it is you're commenting on. If my opinion has the potential to hurt someone's feelings, I don't say it. It's just good manners. And manners have a place on the Internet, too.

One of the best blog taglines I've seen is from Erika of Effected: "More for my benefit than yours." Mainly because it's so true. I love writing this blog, and I love the community that's been fostered here, but I don't owe anyone anything. I'm not (nor do I try to be) everything to all people. I never promised to make every "right" choice or promote a certain agenda. I'm here to have fun, document details and thought processes that might otherwise get swept away, and gain new persective as I review what I've written over the years.

I'm also here for your mom, but I'll let her explain that one.

[end rant] 

And the branding comes full circle

While preparing for BlogHer last year, I was inspired to order business cards for shameless self-promotion. Many of my online buddies went with Moo cards, charming, wee little things that were quite affordable, but I wanted something with a longer shelf life that painted a broader picture of my literary goals. I wanted a business card that screamed from the rooftops that I AM A WRITER.

Aside from my subscription to TypePad's services, it was the first time I had ever put money towards a writing endeavor, so I enlisted the help of a professional--an Indianapolis graphic design firm I work with for my day job--and I shared my dream for the end result. It was Jenny who came up with the idea of highlighting my constant tendency to scribble, and the final product includes the image you see in my new header. For those of you reading via RSS, here's what you're missing:

I updated my design to better compliment the new art (thanks to PB&J for allowing me to use it on the Web), and voila! My first new template in a year and a half.

I've been racking my brain for months on how to freshen this place up, and I don't know why it took so long to think of mimicking my fancy schmancy business card, but the light bulb finally went off, which means I now have a brand. A consistent brand that reflects who I am and what I do, and that brand is my writing style. Literally. That's my John Hancock up there.

Once again, this change couldn't have come at a better time. The more important this site becomes to me, the more I engage with the local blogging community (I just registered for a two-day BlogIndiana conference that takes place in August), the more I talk up the advantages of corporate blogging at work, the more likely it is to go public. It's inevitable. And when that happens, I want to make sure my best foot is forward and that I'm housing my work in a way that makes me proud, however silly some of it may seem. My previous design was the bomb diggity, but it served its purpose. It was time to move on.

Now, when I'm at my ten-year high school reunion Saturday night, I can give out this URL and not feel like an idiot. Though the dorkitude associated with bringing business cards to such a function will probably cancel that out.

The names have all changed since you hung around, but those dreams have remained and they're turned around

Well. I'd like to think you guys are ready to welcome me back with open arms, but after gauging your responses to Kara's recent posts, it appears my presence on this blog is obsolete. Luckily, I'm the parent, and this is not a democracy.

(Your mom's a democracy!)

Clearly, I'm feeling much better.

Ever since I posted that last entry, I've been debating when to return. As much as I love being a part of the blogging community and using this site as a means for creative expression, the way in which I was participating needed to change. I had gotten so caught up in posting for posting's sake that I forgot it should mean something to me. Tuesday night would roll around, and I'd want to talk about my upcoming high school reunion, but instead I posted a Weight Loss Wednesday because that's what I was supposed to do. So I did, even if I didn't want to. Thursday night would come, and I'd be inspired to write about the latest Clinton/Obama debate (first forty-five minutes equalled BOGUS), but instead I poured through e-mails about the return of Tragic Love Friday because tomorrow was Friday and that's what I was supposed to do. So I hatched up a few plotlines, even if I didn't want to.

You see the pattern, yes?

I wanted to return but wasn't sure how to break that cycle. I wanted to get back to the days where I blogged because I wanted to, not out of obligation. So I filed those questions away and focused on writing for Parents, trusting that when the time was right, I would know.

This past Saturday, I knew.

It happened at a conference here in Indianapolis, where local bloggers came together to provide insight on how to enhance one's personal and professional presence on the Web. I originally signed up to learn more about blogs as they relate to smart business practices but walked away with renewed energy for my own blogging vision and met some great people who will serve as blogging resources for me in the future. (If only I'd met Doug Karr and Chris Baggott before teaching my class! Missed Opportunity, you are a son of a bitch.) Like I said earlier, this blog is not a democracy. I like that it makes people happy, and I really enjoy the conversations, but ultimately, it's an archive of my life. A place where I can assign words to my feelings and explore new territories and reflect on what kind of person I want to be. And in order to make it worth my time--something I have much less of these days--I have to do it on my terms.

So I'm making some changes.

Effective immediately, I'm discontinuing all weekly features on this site. No more Weight Loss Wednesday, Brain Fest Friday, or Tragic Love Friday. I'll still write about health and wellness, but I won't let the calendar dictate when I do so. I'll still pose funny questions for us to laugh over, but I'll let them come naturally instead of forcing inspiration when it doesn't exist. And as for Tragic Love Friday.... What can I say? The whole idea of a part three started with readers volunteering to help, but when push came to shove, nobody had the time. And I completely understand. Hell, I don't have the time, and it's my damn story. A bunch of us came up with some great ideas, and hopefully, one day, I can do something with them. But until then, we'll have to make do with lil' Frema's original masterpiece, which I still think is pretty effing awesome, and if you haven't read it yet, now you know there's one more way to kill time at the office. You're quite welcome.

The new plan is to start including blog posts about topics that are important to me but haven't received much air time here in the past. Perfect example: politics. I am not a political guru by any means--ask me to name the mascot for the Democratic party and I will probably mimic a deer in headlights--but now that Luke and I are parents, now that we're laying down roots in Indianapolis, now that I'm old enough to appreciate how politics affect my quality of life--I'm determined to take a more active interest in our local and national elections. I want to figure out who I stand for and who stands for me. I want to ask hard questions and receive thoughtful answers from you. I've been afraid to tackle issues like that in the past because I am super sensitive and HATE the idea of someone judging me just because I hold a different opinion, even though I read posts from plenty of bloggers with completely different views and always appreciate seeing issues from other angles. As Doug said at Smaller Indiana's conference on Saturday, "Afraid of conflict? Don't blog." And not blogging? Is not an option.

I want to learn more about the opportunities available through blogging and make that learning process more transparent here. I presented a Blogging 101 session at a writing conference last fall. I studied blogging issues for a whole freaking semester! Why didn't I link to that PowerPoint? Why not post my syllabus? I don't know. But I won't make those mistakes again. 

I also plan to do a better job highlighting the writing I do for Parents.com. I'm not sure why I downplayed this before--I'm proud of the work I do for them, just as if I were freelancing for a print publication. Plus, I've found that with my friends who write for other Web sites, the more they link to those gigs in their personal blogs, the more likely I am to read them. I trust that's the same for you. If not? Um, that's OK, too. (Frema says through gritted teeth because total monthly page views play a key role in renewing blogger contracts. But no pressure. Am Zen.)

After experiencng a brief, emotional bump in the road, life is sunshine and roses again. I have a wonderful husband and beautiful baby girl who both have given new meaning to my life. I work for a company that (finally) challenges me creatively and compensates me well, thanks to a new supervisor and more structured environment. Dare I say I love my job now? That I like being both mother and breadwinner? Because I think I really do. I'm no longer resentful that Luke's at home with Kara instead of me. How can I be when he's so damn good at it? It's no accident we each ended up in the roles that we did. Even though I miss them something fierce when I'm away.

Anyway, the point is I'm in the perfect place to take this blog to the next level and make it more reflective of who I am today.

So that the answer to "What're you lookin' at?" continues to be me.

In Blogs We Trust

And I thought explaining blogging to ten undergrads was difficult.

Try selling the benefits to forty budding writers with varying degrees of Internet experience.

This afternoon I made the trip to Saint Joe for the second time this week to host a fifty-minute workshop called "Why Writers Should Blog," one of several offered through an all-day writers conference held on campus. I committed to presenting back in January, before the freelancing, teaching, and pregnancy gigs came along, and for the last month I've been kicking myself for not trying to worm out of it. I spent a good three hours putting my PowerPoint together--three hours that could've been spent sleeping, crying over my chipped pedicure, or diving headfirst into a pint of Ben and Jerry's--and several days stressing over my public speaking skills, which still leave much to be desired.

It's not a happy accident that I write for a living.

Once I took my place behind the podium, though, I realized how excited I was to brag about the blogging community. It took a few minutes, but I eventually felt myself relax, to the point where my voice stopped trembling over every third word and my face regained its natural, non-burning-red-oh-my-God-is-it-just-me-or-is-it-HOT-in-here pigment.

I felt adequately prepared to handle all the questions that came my way, though one in particular took me aback. Some were especially concerned about copyright protection for online works, wanting to know how they could prevent others from plagiarizing their content. "Anybody could come along and copy and paste what I've written," one person said. "Right?"

Well... yes. Yes they could.

I tried to explain that the blogosphere is a community based on trust, and when it comes to issues like that, we have each other's backs. I said that when cases of plagiarism do crop up, it's usually because a reader discovered it and brought it to the original author's attention. I pointed out that you can be equally suspicious of the individuals in your local writers group, and it's up to you to decide whether or not the benefits associated with publicizing your work outweigh the risk of any unethical use that may occur.

As I drove home, I thought a lot about my experience with the Internet. When I started blogging, I had no desire to post the Great American Novel or improve on my fiction. I started blogging because I liked taking incidents from my own life and turning them into stories all their own. My first year was a bit rocky in terms of finding my voice, but I did find it, and I'm quite proud of (most of) what you see here. I may not be peddling my entries to publishers, but if someone tried to claim them as their own, I'd be pretty effing pissed. So I can certainly understand why some are hesitant to give the blog thing a try.

But I think as people become more familiar with the blogging community, most of us worry less about public inappropriateness and instead revel in the joy this social networking tool adds to our lives. At least, I do. Blogging has been so, so good to me. It gave me a chance to find myself as a writer. It motivates me to keep producing content when I'm heartsick or sad or confused. It provides a way for me to document incidents in my life that I wouldn't otherwise hold on to. Most of all, it allowed me to find friends in corners of the universe I've never even seen, friends who empathized with me through struggles with religion and impatience with my biological clock, who delighted in my engagement and marriage and big baby announcement. You guys laughed at my omelet story and inability to properly use a meat thermometer, and you shared your personal experiences with prenatal testing and maternity leave. You climbed on board the cheesy love songs bandwagon and even came to my aid when I begged for your copy of a trashy tabloid because it featured a shirtless picture of an old friend. (Thanks again, Lauren, so much, and all those who e-mailed with links to Jason's MySpace page or an image of the actual article. You really are the best.)

I communicate with some of you more frequently than my "real life" circle of friends, most of whom don't even bother to read what I post online, not understanding this little hobby is sometimes the only thing keeping me sane, because no matter what I bitch about, I know at least one of you will understand. I shudder to think what would've happened if I'd let fear of the unknown keep me from sharing my life and my work with you. There'd have been no Tragic Love Friday, that's for sure--a tragic thought in and of itself.

Life is moving along at a lightening-fast past these days, and I don't always have the time or energy to update this site as often as I'd like. But selling the pluses of the blogosphere today reminded me just how important this space is to me and how much I value all of you. It would take a lot more than fifty minutes to convey how much.

BlogHer '07: The rest of the story (part one)

OK, so I've already talked your ear off about how fabulous it was to meet my bloggy-blog friends at the BlogHer conference in Chicago last week. However, let us not forget that it was, indeed, a conference, meant to educate Web geeks on various tricks and trends of the blogosphere. And I was ready to be educated. After blogging for almost three and a half years, I've found my niche. I'm done with fiction (except TLF), and I dream about being the Internet's version of Dave Sedaris (except not gay).

Anyway, I had a clear list of objectives regarding what I wanted to gain from the conference sessions:

• Get a better feel for the business ramifications of blogging. While I plan to stay away from ads and other money-making ventures on this here site, my Parents blog does provide me with income, and I'm open to pursuing similar opportunities with other companies. In those instances, I'd like to know how to market my image and handle my taxes.
• Learn how to increase traffic to my blog. Hey, if I didn't want readers poking their noses into my deepest thoughts, I wouldn't have a Web site, right? Plus, I'm not technically savvy at all, so receiving pointers from an expert or two certainly couldn't hurt.
• See the inner workings of the blogosphere. How are communities formed through writing online? How do they change? How do people change once they belong to one? And how long does it take before the participants move on to the next one?

As you can see, I had high hopes for these sessions. But I've always loved attending conferences, and now that I'm no longer in school, I's gotta get my nollige any way I can.

Here we go.

DAY ONE

(Breakout #1) Business of You: Self-Branding and Self-Promotion

The write-up for this one talked about "exploring how to think of yourself in what might be a new way...and how to use both online and offline media to promote your work." Bring it on, I thought. I already knew about branding from working in communications, but I wanted to make sure I was doing everything possible to present a consistent image on my blog.

I'm sorry to say I was deeply disappointed in this session, especially because it was the one I was most excited about. There was simply no structure. I waited for somebody to turn on the projector, for some sort of formal presentation that gave everyone a starting point from which to work with, but no. Nobody ever defined what branding was or why it was important. There were no examples of Web sites or bloggers who were doing this successfully, no handouts to summarize important notes. Basically, the panelists stood up front and took questions from the audience, questions that often had nothing to do with each other and skipped all over the place, making it hard to follow a logical train of thought. I also didn't like how discouraging some of the experts were about dabbling in different topics. Apparently if I want to have a popular blog, I need to pick one topic and stick with it, and judging from my ginormous list of categories, I suppose I've resigned myself to permanent C-list status. But Dooce is the master of miscellaneous, and she's one of the most financially profitable bloggers out there, so obviously that's not a hard and fast rule.

Despite the lack of actual content, I did scribble a few gems onto my notepad, my favorite one being "the importance of being authentically interesting and interested." If you want to get anywhere in blogging, you can't robotically comb through Web sites and leave generic comments like, "Your blog is so funny! Visit me at blahdeblah.com." If you want to talk at people, set your sights on print media. If you want to participate in conversations beyond your demographic and you're genuinely curious about what others have to say, that's when you turn to blogs.

In hindsight, I wish I had attended the Identity session titled "The Life Stages of Online Communities." Anybody go to that?

(Breakout #2) Technical: Find Out Why Bloggers Care About Web Standards

This session promised to provide information on how to make your blog easier to navigate for people with disabilities. Kerflop had mentioned the importance of following web standards on her blog a while back, and the subject's piqued my interest ever since. Also, my company works very closely with a local organization that finds jobs for those who are blind or visually impaired, so I see firsthand the significance of making sure your Web site is accessible to everyone.

Anyway, the speakers definitely made good on their promise. Did you know that thirty-eight percent of people with some sort of disability are online? Afflictions range from visual impairment and colorblindness to not being able to use a mouse. There's no way I can list everything I learned, but here are some of the biggies:

- Don't make a link open in a new window without warning. For those with impairments or disabilities, this makes it difficult for them to get back to their original starting point.

- When composing text for a link, don't be lazy and write "click here." For those who can't (for whatever reason), they have no idea what you're referring to.

- Visual captchas exclude those with poor vision from commenting on your blog. Use a text-based one if you can (I know Movable Type offers this option, but I'm not sure about TypePad).

- When posting images, make sure they're properly labeled. You can do this by clicking on the "Edit HTML" window of your post draft and editing what appears in quotes after the "alt." Make sure the text relates to the picture so those who can't see it can still follow along.

Go to www.webstandards.org and www.allaccessblogging.com for more information.

(Breakout #3) Technical: Technical Tools to Build Traffic

This session is a no-brainer; it divulged precious information about how to bring more traffic to your Web site. I loved it and took tons of notes, too many to share here, but the entire presentation can be found at www.elise.com/blogher, as well as additional resources. This session rocked. I can't wait to set aside enough time to actually put these tips to use.

In case it wasn't obvious, both of the technical sessions I attended more than fulfilled my expectations for objective number two.

(Breakout #4) Identity: The State of the Momosphere

I may not be a mommy blogger, but if the Parents.com gig continues to go well, I very well might be one soon, and I wanted to hear what others have to say about the mom culture online. This was another Q-and-A session, but that made sense, considering the subjectivity of the topic. There were three panelists, one of them the great Cheeky Lotus.

I have to say, the dialogue that took place during this session was really interesting, even if I didn't agree with everyone's opinion. A lot of attention was paid to the monetizing aspect of mommy blogs, whether it be posting ads, freelancing, or reviewing products and services for a fee. Some argued that a woman's time is valuable and deserves to be compensated, while others speculated that the reason many people are uncomfortable with mothers receiving this kind of attention from businesses is due to the fact that, traditionally, "woman's work" has been more sacrificial in nature, and critics just aren't used to viewing moms in a more professional light. Yet another person said blogging about your children is no different from blogging about crafts or food, which I strongly disagree with. Is an apple pie going to grow up in ten years and ask you questions about a story you posted when he was still in diapers? I didn't think so.

That's not to say I think mommy blogs are sell-outs. I don't. But let's not pretend that writing about your kids doesn't have the potential for major consequences down the road. As I get closer to the end of my pregnancy, I constantly worry about how I'll portray my life as a mother online and how much I'll reveal about my baby. It'll be important for me to remember that my words and pictures will be available to millions of strangers around the world, and it's my job to protect her integrity, which is just as if not more important than sharing the joys and pitballs of being a parent in today's world. I love telling my story but would hate exploiting hers. Luckily, I've seen a number of bloggers balance these aspects of their lives beautifully, so I'm hopeful I can do the same.

If you attended any of these sessions, feel free to add to what I've said. Tune in tomorrow for Day Two.

Read 'em and weep. Or laugh. Or think. Whatever.*

* See updated thoughts below.

This weekend, I continued with my new Saturday-morning research ritual and registered for accounts with Bloglines and Google Reader, enabling me to easily track sites outside the confines of my blogroll and experiment with RSS feeds so I can pretend to know what I'm talking about in class this fall. The goal was to mostly focus on blogs that boasted reputable followings on the Internet but conjured up in me a sense of detached fascination, either because I felt distanced from the content or the layout of the blog itself. Sometimes both. Or neither, sometimes I'd come across an entry that truly touched me, that caused me to lift my fingers off the keyboard and lace them together while sifting through parts of my brain that had been jolted awake, and yet a good two weeks could pass before I felt compelled to visit again. I don't know why.

What I do know is that the relationship between a blogger and a reader is just like any other; both sides have to overcome various preconceived ideas in order to understand each other, ideas about appropriate subject matter, language, religion, hell, even color scheme. Chemistry plays a role as well, because there are times when a blog falls short of even your most basic literary criteria and still, it sucks you in. Maybe it's the cheerful manner in which the writer responds to your comments. Maybe her brother looks like your husband. Maybe you're just that nosy. No matter what your hang-up, one of the marks of a successful blog is its ability to take you through all that background noise and call attention to its core.

But don't think the burden of proof is all on the blogger's shoulders; I think there's such a thing as a successful reader, too, one who's not so hung up on fonts and column sizes and picture quality, one who's willing to look beyond the first couple of posts just to make sure he/she doesn't miss out on something really spectacular.

Apparently I have several layers of superficial judgments to work through, because in the last few days I've been struck by how many of my newish finds, once so intimidating to me, seem more accessible through the standardized layout of a bare-bones feed, allowing me to forget about their sophisticated navigation and larger-than-life branding persona and concentrate, really concentrate, on the core.

Meanwhile, I'm falling in love with my favorite reads all over again, revisiting entries that caused me to look at a slice of the world from a different, often funnier piece of pie, or simply appreciate another human being's ability to tell a good story, whether or not that person has ever identified himself/herself as a writer.

All of that to say: Wanna see a couple of posts I like?

I THOUGHT YOU'D NEVER ASK.

Holly's reminiscing about her grandmother at Nothing But Bonfires

Linda's inside look at the workings of a funeral home at All & Sundry

Mrs. Kennedy's open letter to her downstairs neighbor at Fussy

Danny's unfortunate use of a crotch trimmer at Dad Gone Mad

Amy's non-packing packing diary at Amalah

Matthew's refining of the cliche at Defective Yeti

Liz's journey from social worker to librarian at Quiet in the Stacks (you should also check out the cell phone exchange with her husband because really, so hilarious)

Stereolabrat's hardcore coffee preferences at Stereolabrat

The evolution of Scrabble at The Show with Ze Frank (bonus video blog; also Luke's new favorite time-waster)

Lena's musings on age and marriage at Cheeky Lotus

Molly's thoughts on her husband's big 3-0 at Lost A Sock (at her former Blogger stomping grounds)

Isabel's experience with division of labor post-baby at Hola, Isabel

Jessica's under-bite tale at Kerflop

Heather's labor story at Dooce

You're quite welcome.

Now it's your turn to give Momma some sugar. Which blog posts do you find yourself coming back to time and time again? Any recently strike your fancy for the first time? If somebody were to ask you for the best example of online writing, where would you point them to?

Amalah's doing this over at Club Mom, but I swear, the idea was festering in my head all weekend. Seriously.

Edited to add: Don't be surprised if you check back and find new links sprinkled into this entry, because by the time I published this post it was two-fifteen in the morning and dude, that's pretty damn late to remember every single gut-buster.

Edited to add again: Culotte's comment really struck a chord with me, because she's right; my choices primarily come from blogs that most of the Internet is already pretty familiar with. That's not to say they're not wonderful reads, but according to Technorati, there are 70.1 MILLION blogs out there, and yet the same thirty to fifty mainstream sites receive the bulk of the praise.

Part of the problem is accessibility; you can't search for a new blog the way you can a book. In that situation, I can search the online catalogs available at Amazon.com and Barnes and Noble or simply walk through the doors of any bookstore and scour the shelves myself.

The Internet doesn't have a reliable method for cataloging personal sites. If I'm interested in "picking up" a new blog, there's no database to tell me what's currently available, no comprehensive way to provide information on up-and-coming bloggers. My choices are to either google the word "blogs," which results in 356 million searches, or search by topic--again, another crap shoot, even with Technorati, since there's no way to successfully weed out unrelated results.

This collective mess is the main reason I hope the convenience of RSS feeds don't eventually trump the traditional blogroll, because blogs need other blogs to survive.

Communists, that's who.

Since being asked to teach a blogging class for Saint Joe this fall, I've been on the lookout for material to share with my class. And I've not been disappointed. There was the "10 Things Your Blogger Won't Tell You" article in my first issue of Smart Money magazine, a subscription Luke scored free of charge thanks to his generous accumulation of Coca-Cola bottle caps. The Indianapolis Star recently featured an editorial from a doctor who cautions readers about taking stock in medical advice from bloggers hopping on popular treatment bandwagons without conducting the necessary research. I've stumbled across books on blogging I didn't know existed, and I've taken a new interest in resources and features that normally wouldn't have inspired a second thought.

Like Technorati. I've seen those "Technorati Tags" featured at the foot of someone's entry every now and again, and from what I can gather, it functions as a search engine specifically for the blogging community, monitoring updates and tracking links made from one blog to another. Before I accepted this teaching gig, that level of understanding would've suited me just fine; however, now that I'm charged with introducing ten to twenty undergrads to the most current trends in the blogosphere, I can no longer allow myself to turn a blind eye. So this morning I registered for a Technorati Profile that will enable "spiders" to capture my blog and make the contents searchable to the masses. Part of that process involved posting a link to my profile on my blog, which is the only reason you're seeing an entry from me this fine Saturday afternoon. Because I posted my Tragic Love Friday entry so late in the day yesterday, it's only received six comments so far. I hate the idea of posting a new entry when the previous one hasn't received its fair share of "air time."

Technorati says I can delete this post once they've officially "claimed" my blog, so I may do just that. But probably not, seeing as at this point I've already spent a good thirty minutes online, and dagnabbit if I'm going to let it all be for naught.

Next up: widgets; video (the ones from my wedding don't count, that was all Molly); podcasts (what are your thoughts on hearing Luke perform the theme song I wrote for my short-lived Chicago Chicks Club?); RSS feeds; maintaining a list of blogs to share with my students that vary in style, content, and popularity, the majority of which will probably never earn a spot on my blogroll.

My students better appreciate this come August.

TLF fans, please don't forget about your latest fix. This week is really quite fun. Plus, there's a contest! To win free things! And who doesn't like free things?

Sharing The Secrets Of The Online Sisterhood

For the first time since I began working for the lab last June, I've been invited out to lunch with a coworker, our quality assurance director, one of the guys who accompanied me to the chemistry conference I attended in Chicago over the summer. He's a very nice guy, someone with whom I've since held interesting talks about Indy's real estate market, office gossip, and the conundrums of everyday life. This is very exciting, because while there are several coworkers I interact with on a daily basis, none of them have attempted to engage a relationship with me outside the confines of the company break room. I'm not sure where we'll go, or if he'll attempt to pay, or if we'll have the ability to maintain a conversation for sixty minutes, but I'm thankful for the opportunity to try.

As I contemplate the possibility of becoming friends with someone who shares my place of employment, I also wonder about this blog; mainly, whether or not this person can ever be trusted to know about it, and if so, when? It's like I'm a single mother who can't decide if telling a potential suitor about the two children I have parked in front of the TV at the babysitter's house while I'm on the prowl for a bit o' nookie. Will he use this information to advance his own sinister agenda? Inform his QA buddies I'm only in it for the blog content? Send an anonymous e-mail to my boss warning him to keep an eye on the communications girl, who parked her car directly behind the window to his office last week and subsequently discovered his fancy for online solitaire, a fancy she almost exposed on the World Wide Web?

(A fancy she just exposed on the World Wide Web?)

When I worked at the college, this wasn't an issue. I was so new to the blogging world that I saw no reason to hide this link from my buddies in institutional advancement. That was before I learned about the possibility of getting dooced; now, only one person here knows about my alter ego, and that's only because she was a student at Saint Joe who interned for my office.

At point can you consider a coworker a friend? And when should that friend be privy to the fact that you post more than press releases and test announcements on the Internet?

Wearing My Spaghetti Sauce With Pride

When I first told the Internet of my plans to revamp my online image, it was mainly due to Blogger's inability to consistently upload my photos. However, the idea of shying away from an domain with "blogspot" featured in the URL was planted almost two years ago, as I became more familiar with the blogosphere and discovered sites like Amalah and Dooce, sites whose authors stepped outside the boundaries of the written word in order to really own their designs. The seduction of personalized banners and categories and "About" pages have me primed to tear my clothes off while registering for a Typepad account.

I first started blogging in the winter of 2003 to fulfill a requirement for an autobiography class at DePaul, where I was in the midst of completing a master's degree in writing. I didn't really know what a blog was, but sharing stories and making a fool of myself on the Internet were two ideas I could totally get behind. When the class ended, a month passed before I created "Through the Looking Glass..." at this domain, composing entries of the Dear Diary, today I ate a ham sandwich variety because even though I didn't know what to write about, I knew I didn't want to stop writing. After a few months I changed it to "What're you lookin' at?" because Luke took this really fun picture of me at my sister's graduation party, so fun that I didn't feel comfortable attaching it to my profile until my title was equally spunky. Last July, after carrying on a fifteen-minute conversation with my boss wearing a glob of spaghetti sauce on my forehead, I was convinced that the name change was actually a warning from God Himself. Such a prankster, that God.

It was also around that time I began taking this genre more seriously as a means to improve my writing and attempted to produce more cohesive content. I gained a few readers in addition to the usual group of family and friends and relished in the extra teaspoon of attention. The first time I scored double digits in the comments section, I thought maybe it wasn't totally out of the question to hope I could do this for money, just like my blog idols.

Now here it is, a year later, and my blogging is sporadic, at best. I have yet to achieve Doocedom, or even Amalahdom, whose readership encompasses thousands of individuals around the world every day. The average number of comments I get varies between ten and twenty, and I'm still here at Blogger, because really, what business do I have soliciting advertisers to peddle their wares on this site when I can't justify paying a hosting service for a couple of hundred words a week for an audience of eighty-five people?

A few weeks ago, Silly Hily wrote about these same sorts of feelings, about coming to terms with the fact that she may never achieve Amalah status, and it resonated in the part of me that yearns to follow the footsteps of the Online And Famous, the part of me who has found it so easy to envy the bloggers who've made a real name for themselves, whose writing has inspired paying gigs with companies like ClubMom and Alpha Mom and BlogHer, which will uproot from California and move east for 2007, in my old stomping grounds nonetheless. When you read popular blogs maintained by popular individuals who name drop and vaguely draw attention to inside jokes and Internet drama over who's being trashed and post about the pitfalls of being a public figure and so on and so forth, it's hard at times not to feel like you're in seventh grade again, and I don't know about you, but I was a nerd in seventh grade. I was crying in bathrooms and sticking an index finger down my throat in seventh grade. Reliving those days isn't on my list of things to do.

When you get right down to it, even though most established bloggers handle their success quite graciously, and even though the possibilities for online writing are available to everyone if you just work hard enough, sometimes the pool seems very, very small.

(Very Mom wrote a fantastic post about all of this, by the way, and I love her for it, even though she describes her two-thousand-plus daily hits as "measly." I'd relinquish parental rights to my firstborn child for measly.)

(Also, jealous much?)

In the first paragraph, I linked to the entry where I first began discussing the use of "Fremanitis" as a possible theme for a non-Blogger site, and in the comments, Number Twelve expressed her love for my Frema alias and suggested I use the name as a branding device, just like so many of the well-established bloggers do. She said, "I think you've had food on your face for long enough."

After careful consideration, I disagree. Part of the reason I love "What're you lookin' at?" so much is the attitude it conveys, one of curiosity and defensiveness, skepticism and embarrassment. One that, under the surface, seems to say, "I want to know what you're lookin' at because I wish you were looking at me." I can think of no better way to encapsulate my awkward, B-list, Internet self.

Plus, the Swiss woodworking industry's already called dibs on Frema.com.

So I'm saying to hell with all of it. I'll pursue a Typepad account in the next month or two for no other reason than I want to, and my current title will stay, and I will continue my illicit affair with the "Refresh" button in Window Explorer, and squeal when my comments tracker goes up, because I like sharing stupid pictures of myself with people I don't know. Maybe I'll experiment with ads and maybe I won't. I'll do my best to attend BlogHer next year, and I'll ooh and aah over Internet celebrities just like when Bruce Willis passed my pretzel cart at Navy Pier in 1997, but more importantly, I'll strive to learn as much as I can about this bizarre form of writing that's revolutionizing the publishing industry. And I'll be sure to share that knowledge with all of you, because my sole complaint about the entries following the event we read about for weeks in various corners of the Web is, after all that hype, how little discussion there was about the conference's theme: How are your blogs changing your world? There were countless "I consumed alcohol with these people" links swapped back and forth, but I noticed only a couple of bloggers sharing any personal insights whatsoever. For a medium so ripe for the picking in terms of thoughtful discussion, I was very disappointed.

Then again, I'm also crushed that Scrubs and 24 won't air season premieres until January. Every rose has its thorn.