A week or so ago, my family gently shoved me out of my comfort zone (having grown weary perhaps of listening to me talk about this for a couple of years) and just like that, I jump. I go ahead and start working on the website I have been wanting to create. A place to make public the artsy things which until now have been private and carefully shared in small, controlled settings. For a social reluctant like myself, this is kind of a big deal. It’s out there now. I’m open to whatever fill in the blank feedback that might come this way (including being ignored). But I'm not really sure how to blast out to my people that the site is live. Self-promotion is not my thing. I prefer self-deprecating humor and sarcasm. But I know I have to do something, so I email all the contacts I think might care. The email is, in retrospect, a bit cryptic. I don’t mean for it to be. I'm not going for coy. I realize now I should have just said hey I made a website, here it is, check it out, or don’t, whatever. But as I reflect on what I'm doing and words begin to find their way into the message to my people, I find myself growing sentimental. This message, after all, is going out to people who have, for years, been wonderfully supportive and positive forces in my life. People whose belief in me is unwavering. People who have been encouraging me to do more than just make cards for my friends and co-workers. Telling me to follow my heart and put my stuff out there. These are my people! They're in my corner and I'm so lucky to have them in my life. Unfortunately I get it dead wrong. The email I send out uses words like dreams and manifestation and gratitude... blah blah blah. Some of my people who are more acquainted with the spicy and cynical side of me do not recognize the smarmy emotional flavor of my missive. It sounds like spam. The very first response I get says, uh, dude, I think you’ve been hacked, but don’t worry I didn’t click on the link, just thought you should know. I get curious and go back to re-read the email I originally sent. She’s right. It sounds terrible and exactly like spam. This, right here? This is exactly what it looks like when the introverted dork steps into the open and says, “ta-da!” and then trips. Woops.