Taking Yesterday for Granted

or shall I say, “I didn’t know a good thing when I had it.”

At this spot in time I think/hope I can be more objective when I look back at online communication’s early days. I think we all can. The facts are these: I really started blogging in 2002 when everything in Internet Land was crazy, the Dot Boom had gone bust. Venture Capitalists were no longer throwing millions at fleeting thoughts.  There was no Facebook; Google was around, but only used by nerds at that point, and a Twitter was something your heart did when it was in love.

On occasion I have mentioned that my very first blog actually began in 1998. Oh wait, technically it was 1997 when I wrote my first web piece on OS News (Dave’s technology website that still exists today). See, I worked at an early-stage startup and internet is what I did. Some sort of personal website only seemed a natural fit. It was my wedding blog. Dave had this fantastic idea to put all of our wedding information and special love thoughts online. I honestly doubted if anyone besides the handful of internet junkies would actually use the site. If they did, we promised that all of the information was there and that this online information would make things easier by streamlining our wedding agenda.

Thirteen years later, I can now tell you that I was correct. A handful of people did look at our wedding blog and most of the feedback we received went something like this: [insert a Midwestern Pre-school teacher voice here] “Oh geez, that is really, um [confused pause] sweet? Aren’t you concerned that just anyone (probably a pervert) could look at your website and show up at your wedding?” Not really, and really what Dave and I thought was, “well, if some random person finds our website, then the more the merrier [even a pervert, wink, wink].”

Fast forward a few years to 2002. Once again my lovely husband had the brilliant blogging idea. We had recently purchased at VW Eurovan Camper. Dave, the boys and I were going to spend a year on the road and Dave figured a blog would be the perfect way to let our family know where we were and at least when we made our post we would also let them know that we were still alive. I like how he thinks. We hit the road and occasionally posted from exotic locals such as Calgary, Alberta, Canada and Western Nevada.

Then one day, one of the many times we were back in Utah staying in a friend’s condo, all of our stuff in storage and feeling a little displaced with two delightful small children, I started writing. I began to use my blog as more or less my daily therapist. Each new day I had somewhere to go to let it all out.

It was great. It was new. It was my everyday outlet. My only rule is that before I published anything online that my husband and technical writing editor extraodinaire was required (begged) to edit each and every post. I had pressed send on too many hastily-crafted, barely-literate emails in my time (and paid the price in embarrassment) to have my dangling modifiers hung out to dry to the world. No. I would do my best to make sure my pieces were edited in hopes of only the very few would even notice my comma splice or homonym conundrum.

With grateful links to my website and word of mouth, momentum starting building and more than just my sisters and my mother-in-law were reading my website. I really did not understand the gift I was given. I had found a sweet spot that everyone but me seemed to know was there. Self doubt in full swing, I denied the fact that I was hitting my stride at the just the right time! Instead, I let myself get spooked. I let other people’s perceptions fill my head. I am not a jealous person, for instance. However when other people told me I was jealous, I listened and worked extra hard to prove I was not jealous. No, I was just silly. Silly for letting my head get filled with such nonsense. Instead of minding my own business and focusing on the thing I love to do, which is write, I let my head get filled with gossip, harsh criticism and insecurity.

I lost my momentum, walked away and stopped believing in myself.   I did not know how good I had it and  have had to forgive the past me for not seeing the gift I had been given.

It has taken me a lifetime to discover that I need to believe in myself. Back when I was writing full time, as much as I LOVED telling my stories I do not think I ever thought or believed I deserved a space in this world, let alone the internet world.

Growing up I believed in my beautiful thin and tall sisters. When I was way to young to be listening to such music, I believed in my rock star sister, who taught me about David Bowie and Alice Cooper. I believed in my awesome brother who all the girls loved. I believed in my other brother who always had the lead in the school play. I believed in my sweet mom, who everyone loves. I believed in my dad and I do not even know him. What I do know is every time I saw him he had a fridge stocked with special drinks, like V-8, and always a brand new fantastic car. (The Firebird — yes, the one with the bird on the hood — and Porsche were my favorites. ) He did not pay much child support or have anything to do with me, but with those expensive drinks and fancy new cars he must have been doing something right. I believed in him. I really did. Everyone in my family, my very big family, was completely awesome, just not me. Seriously, that is what I believed. And somehow my beliefs followed me into adulthood. Each and every time I feel some success, I feel someone deserves it more than me. Jealous? No. I will freaking die on a sword for you so you can succeed. I will cheer you all the way to Victory! I will scream the loudest for you. It is easier. Believing in myself, well, that has been more difficult.

Stopping and catching my breath has been good. Somehow, deciding to be present for my two amazing boys and incredible husband helped me see.  Go figure.  Sure, I know I walked away from opportunity. My momentum was moving forward and going somewhere fast. I honestly do not know where blog of yesterday would have taken me. I do know it was going somewhere and I do not take that for granted.

What I have now is today. My guess is that no longer are my readers many. The few of you that have found me or remain I am grateful for. If more come my way, all the better.  Life is moving and while it moves forward my hope is that I carve out a space once again. This time, however, I promise to notice that it is there.

No, I have not started another blog somewhere else.

Salt Lake City, Utah -- Copyright CrazyUs.com
Salt Lake City, Utah — Copyright CrazyUs.com

My sister called me this weekend wondering why I haven’t posted lately and then asked if I had a secret blog somewhere else. I don’t. Life has just been crazy weird.

If you are still stopping by to check on CrazyUs, thank you! I am getting Kyle off to school and then I can write some more. I promise.

I have also received your emails over the last weeks and I am working on responding. Thank you for your wonderful words of comfort and for your crazy questions. The world is filled with so many cool people. Thank you for being patient with me.

Tagged : /

Didn’t I have a story to tell you about Wilmer Valderrama?

Photo From Wikipedia.Org
Photo From Wikipedia.Org

Because we all know where this story ends, I think that is where I will start.

There I was sitting on my Southwest Airlines flight.

Wait, before I go any further, may I just say that if you ever ever fly Southwest Airlines, I pray that Alexis the long-haired wonder is not your flight attendant.

Anyway, so I am sitting on the plane and Wilmer Valderrama is sitting directly kitty-corner from me, on the aisle.

“Celebrities sit in coach?”

We asked ourselves.

“Well, everyone sits in coach on Southwest. You know, its that whole Cattle Call, get your number and then race for your seat, deal. He must be in a low budget film if he is flying on this plane.” Dave concluded.

With a script in hand and wearing his cool celebrity sunglasses, Wilmer was ready for take-off. And then I then I felt a little said. You see, if we really had played our cards right, Wilmer would be sitting by Dave. Moments earlier Wilmer walked on the plane just after Kyle moved to my row, opening up the two seats next to Dave. Alan spotted Wilmer at just that moment and said,

“Hey, these seats just opened up, you could sit here.”

Snubbing Alan, (most likely due to the sight of the several children sitting all around Dave) Wilmer moved on.

Of course I had my camera. I even snapped a few pictures of Eli, but could I really take a picture of Wilmer sitting there, all crammed in like the rest of us?

I decided to do the same thing I did while sitting with the Gaughrean-Perezes in the Foundry Grill at Sundance Resort. In one crazy and unexpected moment in time, Glenn Close and Robert Redford walked by our table. In fact, Robert stood next to us for several minutes, talking to the people seated at the other table. We wanted to take his picture. Tracey begged. Instead, mean person that I am, I sacrificed my friend’s bliss and demurred to the fact that this was Bob’s (because that is what people call him there) space and probably wouldn’t be cool. With Wilmer, I felt the same. This was his space and Alexis (our crazed flight attendant) might beat me.

With the boys situated and with our safe take-off, I thought about how it started. It all really began a day earlier. I was on my way downtown and decided to stop at the city library, because it opens an hour earlier than the library that is closer to our house. When I turned off of 4th South to find parking, I noticed several large trucks. Then I noticed all the cones and then I noticed all the tape, blocking off all the parking.

The Boys and Zeke, Disneyland, Anaheim, California -- Copyright CrazyUs.com
The Boys and Zeke, Disneyland, Anaheim, California — Copyright CrazyUs.com

“Errr! What are they doing? Why can’t I park?”

I actually said these words out loud. I drove around the block and made my way to the underground parking. As I pulled in, I noticed the big yellow sign.

“Extras Parking Only.”

I had to to get some books on c.d. for our trip, and my time was running out, so I ignored the sign and pulled in to the parking lot. At the get-your-ticket-buzzer-thing I was met by a security guard, who asked me.

“Are you an extra?”

“No, but I really need to get some books on c.d. for my son.”

[he smiled, winked and adjusted his belt like he is doing me a favor] “Well, why don’t you park over there. We’ll just say you are an extra.”

At the library entrance, the windows were frosted to look like winter and the the doors were plastered with instructions for passers by and the film crew. It completely looked like a place where I was not supposed to be. I did not have time to go to the other library and went in. The usually bright and open hallway was cluttered with gear and people with a sense of importance. I returned our books, got seven new books on c.d. and then I had to ask a librarian what was up.

“They didn’t tell you you couldn’t come in, did they?”

“Well, not exactly, but they did lead me to believe that I shouldn’t be here.”

[angrily] “They made a deal with us. They said they wouldn’t turn anyone away and that the library would function as usual.”

She ended our exchange and rushed to a phone. BUSTED!

As I left the library, somehow through my stealthy eavesdropping techniques, I knew I was standing near the director (or at least someone very important). This person began giving someone else instructions about Wilmer.

“Wilmer?”

The only Wilmer I could think of was that dude from That 70’s Show. I looked around and didn’t see anyone I recognized, not even Wilmer.

I put Wilmer out of my head and got us ready for our trip. We made it to the airport. It was around 6 AM. Dave was dealing with some red tape at check-in (because some other David Adams is on the terrorist watch list) while Kyle and I were parking our car and Alan was parking his, Kat’s and Zeke’s. We followed Alan to long term parking and while we were trying to decide which jacket I should bring along, our shuttle pulled up.

“Come on, Beth. It’s here.”

We made it to ticketing, but from the minute that Dave and Kat checked their luggage to the moment we arrived, the security line had more than quadrupled in size. Dave and Kat were already waiting for us at the gate and we had twenty minutes before our plane took off. I left the line and walked up to the front. I approached a line attendant and told him our dilemma. He suggested we quietly come back and get in his special line.

I discreetly asked Kyle and Alan to follow me. As we were taking our shoes off and unloading our laptops, I saw this man, wearing dark sunglasses, surrounded by security guards. Seconds later, he was now butting in front of me in line. It was Wilmer Valderrama.

“Ah, so it was Wilmer they were talking about at the library yesterday.” I said.

“Huh?” Alan responded.

I might just think that running into Wilmer at the airport security line after hearing his name a day earlier was serendipitous or something? Maybe?

Wackier yet, how could I have known, as we stood there in the security line, that twenty minutes later Wilmer would be sitting kitty-corner from me, in coach, no less?

Navigating My Blog Equals Enough Bachelor Already!

Easy E in the SLC -- Copyright CrazyUs.com
Easy E in the SLC — Copyright CrazyUs.com

Guess what? After two long and lonely months, my camera is back. Woohoo! It is taking much better pictures, as long as I continually remember to adjust the exposure compensation.

I know. I know, I have had the Bachelor fluff piece up for days. And actually anyone who thinks I am turning into a big airhead (and are airheads really that bad anyway?), please know that I posted a personal piece after theBachelor Post, only to take it down a few short hours later. Why? Well, I felt like my Personal Piece was immediately misinterpreted. I realized that as much as I could try to clarify it, I still would be misunderstood.

Truth be told, I am guessing most of what I write here is never completely understood and, seriously, observing how my words are received is one of the things I enjoy about writing. But last Friday, when I posted something new, my Personal Post after my Bachelor Post, I was not in a place where I wanted to be misunderstood. (Kind of boring really).

Once again, I have been doing a lot of thinking about why I blog. I also realize that as much as I want to write about my kids or my bad mood, or my marriage problems, I have to remember that I have an audience.  (Oh these new communication frontiers are hard to navigate, aren’t they?) And some of the people who read CrazyUs.com are also people I interact with on a daily basis. Recently, I have become acutely aware of how my words here influence how people perceive me and my family. Most of the time, that is a good thing, but somedays when I am feeling pissy and just want to vent, I realize that I need to count to ten and tread lightly. Why? Because not only do my words affect others’ perceptions of me, but they affect peoples’ perceptions of my kids. And what kind of parent am I if I write something that adversely affects how people treat my children? My self-censoring concerns are not new and I have written about them many times.

Additionally and on a somewhat lighter note, sometimes it is really hard to keep the intensity up day-to-day. I love the occasional break from my deep thoughts and simple pleasures of poking fun at Orrin Hatch or The Bachelor.

[from DAVE] In Beth’s defense, it’s hard to deliver the deep, introspective posts day in and day out. (Well, in my own experiences anyway.) And it’s actually a little harder when people criticize what you choose to write about. It puts the pressure on to “perform” for your “audience”.

Still, most days, I am over the moon with gratitude for the opportunities and experiences this website gives me. Even when someone posts a silly or less-informed comment, I am happy for these unique circumstances to see a tiny tiny pice of the world through someone else’s eyes.

Now, what to do.

[I AM INTHE PROCESS OF WRITING THIS POST. I BEGAN IT THIS MORNING,BUT KEEP GETTING SIDETRACKED. INTHE MEANTIME, I THOUGHT I WOULD POST IT WHILE I FINISH.]

Presenting A False Person

Me and Easy E, Salt Lake City, Utah -- Copyright CrazyUs.com
Me and Easy E, Salt Lake City, Utah — Copyright CrazyUs.com

In honor of all that is true: Tom Cruise, Oprah and James Frey, I would like to ask if you have all seen Tom Cruise on Oprah? If you haven’t, you really must.

Anderson Cooper - Photo Credit, CNN.com
Anderson Cooper – Photo Credit, CNN.com

Added a few minutes later, 3:40 PM to be exact:

For the last year I have been wondering about this Anderson Cooper CNN corespondent guy and where he comes from. He has been all over the news, and Oprah, and seems to have access to every hot spot on the planet (well, maybe not every hot spot [wink]). In my quest to figure out who Anderson Cooper really is, I have envisioned him as some man from Middle America. I see him as a nice dude who had a dream to tell us through his voice and images about all the atrocities in the world. I pictured him married with two kids and a cute little put-together wife. He completely seems like someone I would have hung out with in high school, a little nerdy, yet very adorable. I saw him as a guy who probably knew the cool music to listen to, but wouldn’t have rubbed it on your face like some nerdy alt boys do.

Recently, my Anderson-Cooper-curiosity was piqued after seeing all the news about Anderson and Oprah’s Hurricane Katrina coverage. I had to know. I had to now where this man came from. So I did what I should have done a year ago and Googled him. Thank you IMDB, you never let me down.

Sadly, sometimes my imagination seems much, much better than the truth. How can I really get into a man who is the son of Gloria Vanderbilt, and the grandson of the great railroad tycoon, Reginald Claypoole Vanderbilt? How can I take him as seriously now that I know that he has had a life filled with access? Now, when I see him on the screen, all I can do is envision him wearing his mother’s signature jeans below the camera’s view. I can’t stop thinking about the prep schools he went to and the good fortune he was born into. I think and wonder, if I had been born into such a prestigious family, think of all the good I could do in the world to. Instead of Anderson Cooper on CNN, you could see me, Beth Adams. I would be the one hanging out with Oprah in my puffy Northface jacket, traveling to places like New Orleans and Africa . . . Wait, I still can do some good and I didn’t even need a prep school or open doors to get here.

So then I started thinking some more about all this truth stuff and because my link leads you to a parody of the James Frey interview, I wondered if Oprah is so into the truth, why didn’t she let us know where Anderson Cooper came from? Instead, when Anderson Cooper was on her show a month or so ago, she went on and on and on about how he sprang up from nowhere. Man, I would like to spring up from his no where, you know what I mean?

(Mr. Cooper, in spite of my recent discovery, I still think you do a lot of good in this crazy world of ours and I still think you are nerdy cute, especially when you laugh.)

By the way and just to be clear, I don’t think Anderson is a false person either. However, what I am wondering is if Oprah could use her super powers and set up some kind of love connection between Anderson and Nate Berkus. They are both so adorable, don’t you think?

Who needs wiretapping when you have a blog?

Me and Orrin Hatch, Salt Lake City, Utah -- Copyright CrazyUs.com
Me and Orrin Hatch, Salt Lake City, Utah — Copyright CrazyUs.com

Way back when I started this website, if someone were to ask me to name the three people who would make me the most nervous to know that they were reading my blog, I would immediately respond with:

1. My mother-in-law (who we all love)
2. Orrin Hatch (maybe its just a Utah thing)
3. My local LDS bishop (church leader)

Early on I knew that my mother-in-law was probably my most dedicated CrazyUs reader. I also knew that I needed to embrace and make peace with the knowledge that Dave’s mom was learning about our family via my blog. And so I did. Often I wrote my posts, while asking myself the question,

“How would DeAnne (my MIL) feel about this post? Should I warn her about this before posting it?”

And then over time I realized that my mother-in-law will love me even if she doesn’t dig the topics I chose to write. She will also still love me if I have a sentence fragment, comma splice or dangling modifier. And so what if in her comment, she delicately and correctly spells the word I have misspelled. That is why we love her. (She teaches college grammar, by the way).

As far as Orrin Hatch is concerned, I would have thrown him in because of our personal history [wink]. And seriously, the man seems to have his fingers in every political hot topic. When we lived in the DC area, we often flew back and forth from DC to Salt Lake City. One set of grandparents live in Salt Lake City, the other, back in DC. Often on these flights we would see various political leaders. I remember standing next to Mike Leavitt, the former governor of Utah days after he had been asked to be an administrator for the EPA. Another time when I was pregnant with Eli, I walked on the plane holding Kyle, a diaper bag and a car seat in my arms while Dave readied our stroller for gate check, Orrin Hatch was sitting in first class. Sweat was dripping off of my claustrophobic-feeling body. And never missing an opportunity to kiss a baby (so-to-speak), Orrin smiled, grabbed Kyle’s foot and began to talk.

“What a cute little baby. How old is he?”

I didn’t have a free hand to wipe the sweat off of my upper lip and my anxiety was rising as I noticed the huge group of passengers who were trying to get to their seats, forming a line behind me.

“He is eighteen months.”

“He is so cute.” And then Orrin asked my about seventeen more questions in rapid fire succession. “So where are you headed? Are you from Utah? Do you like to travel? How does your son travel? Boy, he sure is a happy baby [grabs Kyle’s foot again]”

At that moment, the heavens opened as a gracious flight attendant asked me as she grabbed the diaper bag that was falling off my shoulder,

“Ma’am, could I help you to your seat?”

“Oh yes. Thank you.”

Since that moment, on the plane, I have paid more attention to the politics of Mr. Hatch. In fact, I have paid more attention to politics in general. My general philosophy, especially since I am a Democrat, living in a predominately Republican state is,

“Can’t we all just get along?”

If that doesn’t work, I ask,

“Can’t you just respect my right to have a differing opinion than yours?”

 

About a month ago, because of some careful planning between my good friend and his good friend, my world collided with Orrin’s at the Virgin Megastore in Salt Lake City. As I walked into the store, I noticed several eyes starring right at me. I noticed someone motion to this older gentleman, who was wearing a brightly colored Nordic sweater covered in Olympic pins. He walked up to me and said,

“I read your blog.”

He knew the terminology. Orrin Hatch has read my blog. I may get annoyed when he is politicking me on a plane, but here, at the Virgin Record store, he had me [wink]. We posed for our picture with my cheap old camera (remember my D70 is in the shop) and when I didn’t think the first one turned out, I asked if he would take another. He graciously asked Dave to take our picture) (by name — Um let, me get my point across here, Orrin Hatch addressed my husband by name before he was introduced to Dave). Ok, so Dave took another picture and Orrin was whisked away. Not before the Record Store manager blew a gasket because we were taking pictures in the entrance of her store. It was fabulous.

Now to the bishop. I always thought (deceived myself) that CrazyUs was my special, private place to talk and work through my issues, which obviously meant, that people who new me in the real world would not be reading what I had to say. Silly, Silly me.

Over and over and over and over and over and over again, I have learned that CrazyUs is in the public forum. So when my neighbor, who happens to be the local Mormon Bishop, does a Google search for the local market and CrazyUs comes up number one on that search, he may just click on the link. And he did.

Blogging is just another form of communication. The more people who hop on the blogging train, the more mainstream blogging will be. Please be careful, if you don’t want someone to read what you have to say, then write it in a private off-line journal. And seriously count to ten and think before you use your website as a place to vent about your next door neighbor, because you and I both know that within days or even minutes, your neighbor will somehow learn about the computers, then the internet and eventually do a Google search that leads him directly to you.

You might think that because you’re “just blogging” that all of your jabs and quips don’t have the same impact as when you’re venting in “real life.” Don’t fall into that trap. When you write something down, it doubles its effect, because it makes it permanent, and when, on top of that, you publish it to the world, and open up your target to public scrutiny, it doubles it again.