Amber For Sale

So my Etsy store is up! I got a lot of awesome encouragement to start a store all at once, and it was like, Ok, it's fucking time to try it out, because I won't be able to justify buying expensive lenses and stuff if I don't at least make a little money off of what I'm doing, and I need to stop being a pansy about it.

For the first time I actually felt like what it feels like to be paralyzed by fear.

See, growing up my house was so fucking emotional all the time; any childhood transgressions of mine, of any variety, could be disciplined with either a shrug and a sigh or a fit of rage or something in between, you never could tell, it all just depended on my mom's mood, and that snapped me into a converse place of such fierce black-and-white, this-is-the-way-it-is rationality that letting emotions take me over is difficult for me, to a fault. It's hard for me to be sad.

But then I tried opening this Etsy store, which I had put off even though I've been thinking about it for MONTHS, and suddenly I was sobbing hysterically. (And I really don't want to talk about this, except that I'm so fascinated and dumbfounded by this I'm going to, but, just so you know, this is really embarrassing.) And I'm clicking through, and designing a banner and there were all these voices in my head going "No one is going to buy your stuff, you might as well take two dimes and flush them down the toilet [it's twenty cents to list each item] and you should be embarrassed for even trying to do this" and I'm trying to not listen, right?, but these voices are so, so, SO fucking loud that I start crying, but I can't actually stop because I don't want to NOT do it, so I'm sobbing and working with HTML, and it was all really pathetic and sad and scary, but HEY! My fucking Etsy store is up. Go check it out. I'll be under this rock over here.