Every phone call starts the same way.
“Jessica, my friends ask me what you’re up to and I don’t know what to say.”
“Tell them I’m a blogger.” I respond.
“But how do you make money as a blogger?” She asks.
And then I sigh, really loud, because if I had to spend several hours explaining to my mother just how a blogger makes money then I’d have to charge her a consulting fee. Because I think we all know that every douchebag with minimal knowledge of HTML and CSS (can’t sell shit) is a social medial consultant.
Here’s what I do for a living.
- I take care of my kids and my husband
- I play tennis and go to lunch
- I tell you my stories on Whrrl
- I blog about my family and sometimes overshare
- I use twitter
- I’m launching an ad network, soon I hope
- I’ve got an app waiting for approval in the iPhone store
- I’m going on Dr. Phil to tell you moms don’t suck
How do you make a living doing this? You didn’t really expect to get all my secrets, did you?
Need something else to read? My interview is live with Social Media Club LA.
I saw you at the party this week, and even though you smiled, you didn’t smile with your eyes.
I know what it’s like.
Because when someone we love is ailing it seems wrong that the world continues to exist. At the very least the parties should stop or pause and folks shouldn’t expect you to participate.
But they do, so you go and you smile with your teeth, but sob alone at night, in the car or when a reflection takes you by surprise.
I really need to let you know that I understand, I’ve been there. I’ve been the caretaker, blindly grasping for help in hospital corridors and begging nurses for real answers. I’ve been the one to stay up all night faxing letters to the administrators and still getting up early to bring my kids to school.
I’ve done this. And so many of us have. If you haven’t then you will soon, it will be your turn to care for someone you love and to ache in a way that makes you feel a little bit dead inside but reminds you that you are still alive all at once.
It’s why I started blogging, that exquisite pain than engulfed me when Steven fell ill for the last time.
I wanted to tell you that I saw your eyes not smile, but it was a party, and that wouldn’t have been the time or place.
Use your resources, I see them coming at you, they will be lifelines.
I’m a 39 year old woman who doesn’t wear makeup. It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s that I don’t know how and the only thing I own is some Maybelline Mascara and a tube of lipstick from CVS.
It’s pitiful really.
