Who were you at CyberMummy?

I have a real life friend (yes, honestly) who follows my blog faithfully, and comments as either Josephine or Someonesmrs. She left a comment on my previous post, which I thought would make rather a good post in itself. She said:

When you lot all meet up (I am a non-blogger; I just lurk at others blogs) do you call each other Potty, Nappy, HomeOfficeMum or whatever, or do you find out each other's real names and use them, and then is it weird to come back to blogosphere names again?

Yes, that is an interesting point. Who am I at CyberMummy? At this point, I want to witter off into pages and pages of musings about identity, because this is an aspect of blogging that I find truly fascinating. But I'll restrain myself, or I'll restrain Iota at any rate (aaargh, see what I mean...), and I'll just answer the question, and then let you all answer it too.

When I introduced myself to people I didn't know at CyberMummy, waggling my lanyard in front of them, I tended to say "I'm Iota, my blog is The Iota Quota, my real name is Myrealname". But that didn't happen very often because honestly I wasn't all that interested in meeting new random people. I was either with people I knew, or looking out specifically for people I wanted to meet. A couple of friends I already knew did ask me at CyberMummy "would you rather be Iota or Yourrealname?", and I replied that either was fine. That's honestly how I feel. I answer to either name. In the context of CyberMummy, I suppose I felt more easy with the name Iota. It's who I am in the blogging world. And I really like the name. I like it more than Myrealname, actually.

That probably answers your second question too, "Josephine". For me, it's not weird at all to skip from one name to the other. I'm quite happy being Myrealname in a conversation, and then commenting the following day on someone's post as Iota. I'm just a crazy mixed-up kid.


What about the rest of you? Did you use your real names, and if so, how did it feel reverting to your blog name in the blogosphere? If you email blogging friends, do you use your blog name or your real name? And how does having a twitter handle add to the mix?

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Iota's got it bad

I am in England and I am weary.

I am weary because the journey is long and the time difference a pain. It takes a few days to adjust.

I am weary because I landed at Gatwick, raced around the south of England delivering tired but excited children to stalwart members of the family who looked after them while I sped off to join Husband at a job interview. He was glad I was there, but it didn't make any difference. He didn't get the job.

I am weary when I read blogs written by expats. For the first time ever, I can't really be bothered to summon up an opinion on posts which I used to find fascinating, on language, culture, everyday life. Does any of it matter?

I am weary of being an expat. I am tired of people assuming I'd like to back in Britain. They're right, and they base their assumptions on what I've told them. They haven't taken liberties. But I'm annoyed at what they assume, because it somehow devalues my current life in America. I have always tried to live in the moment, not in the future. I have called our house in America "home", and called Britain "Britain". I did that deliberately, but there is also truth in it, truth that took a while to become true, but is now true. At least I think so. I don't even know any more. I feel like other people think my life is in an aeroplane in the stack above London, circling and circling, waiting patiently to land and begin the next chapter. But it's not. My life is in the Midwest, full of friends and fun and family adventure. And yet, of course, they're right, deep down I probably am circling in that stack, and that's why I'm annoyed. I'm not really annoyed with them. I'm annoyed with myself. Because I'm not as free-floating as I pretend.

I am weary when I think of Cyber Mummy. Can I be bothered to go? There's a waiting list, I believe, so I could get my money back. I'm thinking there are better things to spend that cash on. Can't I just meet up for a drink the night before with the bloggy friends I really want to see? That's the bit I honestly want to do.

I am weary when I think of blogging, because I can't keep up, and don't want to keep up. I don't facebook, I don't twitter, and I know this means that I'm on the edge of blogging, that I don't have a future. It's just a matter of time. I've always been of the opinion that there's space for everyone in the blogosphere, but I guess it's not a nice feeling to know that you're just drifting slowly to the edges, making way for the next new generation of bloggers, and the next one, and the next one.

I am weary, because there's lots I'd love to write about, and I can't, because I gave up my lovely anonymity. Writing an anonymous blog is very freeing. You can say what you like. Should I ditch The Iota Quota and start another one secretly, where I can share of myself like I used to? (Ha! Perhaps I already have and I'm bluffing you!)

I am too weary even to polish this into a reasonable piece of writing. I am just going to press "publish post" and see what you all say.

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In need of an identity

I am a member of a very select group within British Mummy Bloggers. I'm one of a small number who don't have a profile picture. But times are a-changing, and I thought it was a good moment to show my face.

Not literally. Oh no no no. I like hiding away behind words. And that is why I have chosen the following as my profile picture.

I played with various type faces. This one is called Britannic Bold, which I thought might be apt, but it's too brash, don't you think?

Then there was this. I can't remember what it's called, but 12-yo said it was cool.



But I decided to stick with the first, because it was the closest I could find to American cursive, which is so iconic. It just says "America" to me. Personally, I can't see the point of teaching generations of school kids two entirely different styles of writing. They learn printing for three laborious years, and then just as they've mastered that, they have to knuckle under (almost literally) and learn a completely different style. You go from what one teacher described to me as "sticks and balls" to this curly and ornate script that isn't far from copperplate. In Britain, it seems to me that you learn one set of letters, and then you simply learn how to join them up. For those of you who understand these things (and I don't include myself among you), I think I'm a fan of D'Nealian writing.

Enough of all that. In sum, I thought Iota in American cursive script would be a suitable visual cue for this blog. I used a lower case i because the upper case I in American cursive is pretty much unrecognisable (several of the upper case cursive letters are, actually, which is another of my beefs with it). A capital I looks like a T or a P, and I didn't want to become Tota or Pota.

You probably want to know why it's nailed to a tree in my back yard. Well, that's just what I did. I expect there's something sub-conscious going on. Perhaps it's religious imagery. Perhaps it's meant to be like a 'Wanted' poster. Maybe I just wanted to hang it on the tree that I look at out of the window when I sit at the computer. Who knows? I certainly don't.

So what do you think?

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