Tiny Differences

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I'm sitting at the Oakland airport right now, waiting for my Starbucks breakfast to cool down from lava-like temps so I can eat it.
I love airports.
The constant change and flow of passengers is perfect for people watchers like me.
The lady with her bulldog in a stroller, the business men trying to out-boast one another with stories of conquests, the exhausted flight attendant who is hoping for a jump seat so she can get home.
Airports are a constant ebb and flow, and it makes me think about change as well.

I'm on my way to New York for my fourth Blogher, and about my 15th conference. I've done this many times by now, and it's becoming old hat for me, but Blogher will always, always have a special place in my heart because Blogher11 in San Diego was life-changing for me.

My first conference, where I met people that led me down a new path, a new career, a different life, that has brought me more joy and fulfillment than I thought was possible in real life.

But that isn't why I'm writing this post.

I'm remembering my first first Blogher, four years ago, and thinking about how much is different. I actually think I may have departed from this same gate, a nervous mama flying off, leaving her 3.5 year old at home for something other than a hospital visit.

I remember what I wore; a new dress I'd bought for the occasion. A red paisley sundress with a black belt wrapped around my rib cage. I wasn't entirely comfortable with the trend of the ribcage belt thing, but I wanted so badly to look stylish that I was willing to deal with the discomfort.

My hair was freshly cut and colored, my nails, finger and toe, were scrubbed, filed, and painted to perfection.

My suitcase, which had been checked, contained an empty duffel bag (I'd heard about vast amounts of swag I'd basically have thrown at me) and I'd carefully rolled all of my brand-new outfits to prevent wrinkles.

I wanted SO badly for everyone to like me.

Fast-forward to 2015, I've been through all this before.

The nerves are the same, but that's as much from air travel as it is the conference. Going to Blogher is going home for me. It's where my people are, and for many, it's the only time I see them. I'll have experiences this week that couldn't happen anywhere else, I'll make new friends, strengthen old relationships. I'll schmooze the brands (Not really. I'm terrible at that) and yes, I'll bring home some swag.

But my hair hasn't been cut or colored in a year, my pedicure is several weeks old, and the only new thing I bought for this conference came in a subscription box, so it wasn't even for this specifically.

Because it isn't about what you're wearing.
Or how your hair looks.
Or your nails.
Or the swag,

Blogher is about the community, and I can't wait to get there.