I'm going to give a TEDtalk.
Not a "Thank you for coming to my #TEDtalk," but a real one.
One day that is.
Nothing scheduled yet, 'cause, as you know, you must apply and be accepted first, but it's somewhere on the horizon.
Or, at least that's what I keep telling myself.
I should probably keep lousy language out of the talk, though, huh?
Maybe, we'll see.
This mommy has a part-time potty mouth but is generally well-behaved and well-spoken, so we'll see how badly I need to stress particular points and go from there.
But, for real, I almost applied to do one, and that's because I like to "almost" do a lot of things that I'm afraid of.
Still, more often than not, I kick fear to the motherfudgin' curb and do 70% of things that scare the dickens out of me.
But why is there that 30%?
Where does this internal mistrust of self and my capabilities come from, and why the heck do I let it remain and even derail me?
It's something I'm working on, and while that might sound like a copout, it's entirely not.
It's my truth in the form of slow but steady daily work on myself to find, decipher, hone and use my voice in such a way that not only I benefit from it, but so do those around me.
Listen, I'm nobody special, but at the same time, I am.
Meaning that while I have nothing so remarkable to say that it sets me apart from others, I have just enough unremarkable stuff to say that it connects me with others.
We're a world full of generally unremarkable people in that we aren't famous, super-rich, ridiculously talented, geniuses.
That being said, we are essential to this world and each other because popularity, money, or notoriety is not our end goal.
Villages and tribes.
Building support networks -- big or small -- that is our goal.
Supporting each other in business.
Being there for one another personally.
Being emotionally available.
Being physically available.
But, not ever losing sight of ourselves and perhaps even more importantly, our family, if we've got a good one.
I spoke at my sister's wedding.
I spoke at my grandmother's funeral.
I spoke at my dad's funeral.
I speak to my mom, brother, and sister daily.
I speak to my mother-in-law all the time.
I speak to my husband and my kids.
I speak to my friends.
And, I speak every day through my keyboard, to all of you.
The corner spot of the living room couch where I've parked my biscuit for the evening looks nothing like what I picture a TEDtalk stage might, but you know what, sittin' here, writing my heart and hoping it reaches just one of yours, maybe that's enough.
In fact, I quite think it is.
Storytell your story more.
Read others' stories more.
Hear the messages and share them.
Be kind to one another and keep connecting, because, truthfully, that's why we are on this Earth -- to grow as people, while people beside us grow, each of us lending a
a tender tongue whenever needed.