Come see me at FinCon

Yep, I’m in the middle of the sky right now, heading for FinCon.

Though, to be honest, at 3:55 this morning when my alarm went off, I was kind of like, “why the fuck did I sign up for this?!”

In order of importance, here’s everything I’m excited about:

1. Being on my FIRST-EVER panel (more on that later).

2. Having a reason to wear my new snakeskin wedges that I found at Goodwill and that my entire thrift-shopping posse begged me not to buy (I’ll be wearing these Thursday before Andrew arrives since he’s too embarrassed to be seen with them).

3. Handing out my brand new business cards (“Were these free? They look like it,” my dad’s opinion of my new business cards. They weren’t free).

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4. Checking “surf lesson” off my bucket list

5. Stalking my favorite finance bloggers (you know who you are…I’m standing right behind you. Love that sweater. You smell delicious).

Let’s talk about that panel

If you happen to be awake at 8:30 on Thursday morning, and you happen to be at FinCon in San Diego, take a stroll down to Nautilus 3 and you will see me ON A MOTHERFUCKING PANEL!

(I’ll be the one wearing snakeskin wedges. And the only female.)

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Totally bursting with honor (that sounds weird, but you get it) to be speaking on a Financial Independence Panel with some of the most intelligent, established and remarkably handsome thought leaders of the FI / early retirement movement.

Also, how does one prepare for a panel? No freakin’ clue. I spent most of yesterday in the bathroom at work, talking to the mirror:

Hi, I’m Emma and I blog about money.

Hello everyone [insert prayer hands / bow combo] Emma here.

Greetings fair financiers, I am the one who goes by Emma.

So, yeah, pray for me.

And on that note:

Let’s talk about imposter syndrome

Enough joking around. It’s 6am now and I’m ready to get serious. See above photo if you have doubts about that.

I’m suffering from major imposter syndrome.

Coming to FinCon was / is a big deal for me. I’ve never invested this kind of money and time into my blog before and I’m nervous as hell that I’ll hide in my hotel room the entire time and get absolutely nothing out of it (if I wear the snakeskin wedges in my hotel room while watching TV, does it count?).

If you read my blog, you know that I try to spend aggressively on my values and save aggressively on everything else.

I use that line a lot at cocktail parties dive bars. It makes me sound cool and like I know what I’m talking about. It’s also the most pretentious way of explaining why I only drink well liquor.

But talking about self-investment is one thing. Doing it is another. Spending money on oneself is a lot like voting for oneself and that’s no fucking cakewalk. To get myself to FinCon, I had to cast about one thousand little dollar bill votes for emmalincoln.com and I won’t lie to you – my hands were shaking.

Six days a week, I consider deleting my blog. It feels dorky. And way too vulnerable. It’s like an old stinky cat that follows me around with its tongue stuck between its teeth. Totally ruining my mojo.

But at least once a week, something really cool happens. I get drinks in Harlem with a blogger I’ve been reading for years (I know the Harlem part isn’t relevant, but c’mon. That’s pretty cool). I get an email from a woman in college asking for advice on buying a house. Or, I get invited to speak on a panel at FinCon.

I guess sometimes you vote with shaking hands (November elections, I’m looking at you). You vote for something not to show the world you believe, but to show yourself you believe. Sometimes you are voting with faith instead of evidence. Sometimes you spend money, not as an investment, but as a prayer flag in the form of a dollar bill.

So little blog, here you go, here are a thousand of my faith votes.

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