This time last year, I was in the midst of the Blogger Idol madness. Though, I don't mean madness in a bad way. The competition was intense and crazy and frustrating. But it was also rewarding and fun and amazing.
Blogger Idol made me do a lot of soul searching. At times, I relied on total strangers (though, they certainly aren't strangers any more) for my strength to keep competing. I made connections with some amazing people who continue to inspire me. I learned how to take constructive criticism (and sometimes just plain ol' criticism) but not lose myself in the process.
And now, it's time for someone else to have a turn. Auditions are officially open. And I really hope you will consider tossing your hat in the ring. I can't wait to find out who will join me as a Blogger Idol. Go audition now!
In case you're curious...my audition from last year is below. But I bet you can do better than that!
When I was eight, I wanted to be a best-selling author. That's my first memory of dreaming of doing something big. Of making a splash. Of being somebody.
After a big-name publisher rejected my first masterpiece, I decided to stick to my Lisa Frank diary, kept safely under plastic, purple, butterfly-shaped lock and key.
And so it went. When I was eleven, I wanted to be an Olympic gymnast. When I was in high school, I wanted to be a Broadway star. When I was in college, I wanted to be America's Next Top Model.
There was always something in the way, though: I was too young, too tall, too tone-deaf, too nervous.
I went on with life. I got a solid degree, followed by a respectable career. Then, one day, I found myself staring into the eyes of the guy who makes me be my worst critic, but is also my greatest inspiration: my weeks-old son. I felt a little bit like Derek Zoolander staring into a dingy puddle in the gutter asking my reflection, "Who am I?" (Though, my son is a little more beautiful than an oil-smeared, watery reflection of Ben Stiller).
The problem wasn't actually that I don't know who I am. I am a wife, but I'd never cut it in Stepford. I am a mother, but Carol Brady could teach me a thing or two. I like to craft, but I don't hold a candle to Martha Stewart. I find some good deals, but I'm no extreme couponer. I'm a Do-It-Yourself designer and decorator, but Paige Davis would kick my butt in a design-off. I enjoy cooking, but Paula Deen would be embarrassed by some of the things that come out of my kitchen.
The true problem was that I didn't know what to do with the fact that I'm a lot of things, but I'm not defined by any of them. In the end, what I have to offer is *me.* My genuine - if sometimes cynical - passion for my fairly unremarkable life instead of my singing and dancing. And, so, I write.
On my blog, The Spaghetti Westerner, I like to look at life as entertainment with my loved ones as the characters. Sometimes it's a sitcom, occasionally it's a drama, and there's no shortage of bad reality TV. I want to inspire and to commiserate, to support and to rely, to share and to learn.
Here's the cherry on top: I am so obscure a blogger that you don't even know who I am.
After all, isn't that what Idol is about? Taking someone that nobody's ever heard of who pours their heart and soul into what they do with a little bit of talent and a lot of charisma and introducing them to the world?
It isn't about what I've already done, but what I'm going to do. That's why – even if you don't know it yet – I am your 2011 Blogger Idol.
Lisa aka Mama Spaghetti