Panic at the Disco!

Okay, so I've been looking for a job for months now. Two interviews. One job was a joke. Not what I applied for at ALL! The job was for a bank teller. Well, I go to the interview and am told that 90% of my job would be walking around Walmart (where the bank was located inside) and basically stalk customers who are trying to shop, and get them to open a new account. Every day. Wow, um, I think I'm going to pass, but thanks for the interesting offer!
Second job interview was at the community college here. Wonderful job, wonderful benefits. I was picked out of a huge stck of 85 apps to be interviewed. Was nerve-racking to say the least, as I was chatted to by 5 people at the same time, then interviewd 2 more times and tested. All that and no job. But nice thing was that they are keeping my resume on file and I get a "special letter" put in my file for preference for new openings. There have been 2 openings this week, and I applied for both. Crossing everything I have two of (and that's painful!).

Now I have thought about going back to the ebay boutique custom clothing world. Honestly the thought of it sends me into a bit of a panic. It goes something like this...
I think about all of the cute things I can make.




Nice, if I don't say so myself. LOL. But here's what happens when I go into my closet, where the goodies (aka Fabric and such ) are located. I think about the HUGE mess it makes. Fabric flying, thread everywhere. Dropped pins. Scissors strewn about. Patterns. Heat n bond pieces stuck to my pants. It's a gigantic mess to make one pretty/handsome little outfit. Hours of love and pain go into it. Too excited to clean up the mess, I start another project. Soon the mess looks like a tornado hit my sewing room. (not that I have one of those in this house. sigh) The chaotic room makes my thoughts chaotic. This makes me stressed. Stress makes my heart beat faster and harder and I can hear it in my ears. (for those of you that don't know, I have heart issues) This makes me out of breath and tired. Too tired to sew. Then the guilt sets in. The guilt that I'm not chained to my machine. And honestly, that guilt and stress just isn't worth this:


sigh.
I miss it. Sort of.