This site got a makeover! (And what that says about small choices we make & little stories we tell.)

A new day has dawned at!

It has a new look and culled blog, which I’ll use, starting now, to share news about my projects and occasional bite-sized stories to live a better-feeling life.

That’s really my news for the day, but I can’t resist telling you a story now that I’m writing.

Here goes:

I’ve had websites that I wanted hidden from public view, but an earlier version of this one wasn’t among them.

With that iteration, I’d go so far as to say that I was proud: It was my favorite of all the websites I’ve had, cost less than a tenth of any of them, AND I built it myself.

Still, there were things about it that bugged me.

For starters, the welcome section on the homepage displayed funny on mobile devices.

And my headshot wasn’t really working for me, but it was my most recent one.

So I did the best I could with what I had, and the result was pretty good.

But it wasn’t what I wanted.

Getting what I wanted would have to wait until I could afford to sit for another photo and learn to fix the homepage glitch, which would probably require me to fiddle with code.

Well, those are the stories I told myself, and did nothing to update my website as a result.

If it weren’t for falling in love with the box for Acure’s Brilliantly Brightening Facial Scrub at Whole Foods, I may not have 1) remembered how I wanted my website to read color-wise, and 2) questioned whether I needed to wait for what I wanted.

The box that stole my heart was simple—yellow, white, black text—yet so appealing that my brain worked as I slept on how I could achieve that look for my electronic home without waiting any longer; before the sun was up, I was already in action.

And now my website reads with the colors of that beautiful box.

More importantly, it reads the way I want feeling-wise as soon as a visitor lands on it, thanks to its brightness and me fixing the welcome section glitch and swopping out my recent headshot for one that’s years old but that still looks like me and emits the perfect energy.

Once I was done with my changes, I realized that I’d made essentially the same website I’d mocked up in Power Point a few years ago.

Damn, how did I get so far from that? I thought.

Here’s how:

I made a small choice to use a headshot that introduced colors on my website that I didn’t want, but that I made work by making other small choices that took me farther away from my desired design.

I made a small choice to go with colors programmed into my website template instead of figuring out how to tweak the template code for my desired result (or asking for help).

I told myself little, yet false, stories that to get the website I wanted, I needed a new photo that wasn’t in my budget and more technical expertise than I had.

You may not have a website or care about mine, but I hope that the larger message isn’t getting lost here:

Small choices and little—yet false—stories can hinder us from getting or making what we want.

Turns out, I didn’t need money for a photo because I already had the perfect one.

And the technical muscle I thought I needed to fix the homepage glitch?

I solved the problem by unchecking a box, once I bothered to look a bit harder.

Basking in the glow of my yellow site, I started questioning other little stories I’ve been telling myself of late. Some are about the difficulty of other technical things I want to do. Others are about the arduousness of legal things I need to square away to grow my storytelling projects.

And others are about the impossibility of affording to live in the type of place I want, and what needs to happen for me to move from my parents’ place and establish my own household again in the first place.

Already, I can poke holes in those little stories, and, because of this, expect my progress toward accomplishing what I want to pick up pace.

Are you doing what I did and letting little stories and small choices slow you down?