Now that ‘woot’ has made it into the dictionary, I can safely use it without reprisals.

But the real purpose of this post is to share the news that my Etsy shop is now open and I’ve sold 9 buttons to 4 different people. Whee!

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It’s become painfully clear that the November Experiment (aka NaBloPoMo) (aka Let’s Turn Something That Might Otherwise Be Pleasant Into a Daily Torture So Unbearable I Don’t Post Again For Two Months) was not an overwhelming success.

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Please be patient while my stuff gets moved over from the old site and this whole Wordpress things gets figured out.

I thought I was so clever with my NaBloPoMo idea (specifically, the nickname for it, not the idea of posting every day for a month). But alas, someone has beaten me to it.

Today is Day One of National Novel Writing Month, affectionately known by the crazies who attempt the lunacy of NaNoWriMo. I tried it once, a few years back, and it wasn’t pretty. The idea of writing 50,000 words during the span of a messed up month like November is just plain silly, let alone having to make those words all form together into coherent sentences that tell a story. So I’m instead using November as my own personal National Blog Posting Month. Read the rest of this entry »

All right, here I go. Throwing caution to the wind.

I have a few saved up blog entries, since I first decided to actually try to keep up a blog, but I’ve been too chicken to post any of them.

I mean, what if my writing is crappy? What if they’re full of errors? What if they offend someone?

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It’s terribly disenchanting to have to admit this, but I can’t write. It’s not a physical incapability. I mean, I have fingers to hold a pencil or peck away at a keyboard. I have a brain that thinks up lots of things I’d like to write about. In fact, that’s how I spend most of my daydreaming time — imagining all the topics I’d like to write about, all the subjects on which I’d be terribly qualified to educate the masses, all the twisted plots I’d like to see played out by Johnny Depp on the big screen. But for some reason, when I sit down to write, facing the blank screen or the empty page, unless I have a deadline and someone depending on me to write, all those wonderful thoughts and ideas start running in circles and leaping out of my ears onto the cold, hard pavement below. And I’m left with a mind that’s as blank as the screen.

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So I thought I was somewhat capable when it came to technology. I’ve smirked at the teachers who can’t seem to grasp the leap from Mac to PC, who go into a state of shock at the idea of a mouse with more than one button. I can do pretty much anything I need to do on a computer, or at least I thought I could. But now I’m in Internet-land, creation rather than navigation, and it is a very scary and lonely place to find yourself lost. I have been reduced to a tentative clicker, which is annoying. I have become the person who asks stupid questions which I could easily answer if only I had looked at the right part of the instructions. It feels somewhat like walking with cement shoes. On my feet and my hands. In a foreign country. And I’m deaf.

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