The Writing On The Wall

When I met Hubby, I fell in lust immediately. I then found out his friend was not gay (maybe an hour later), so I pursued Hubby. Quite successfully, I might add. We've now been together for over 9 years, and the journey we've taken has been amazing. At least once a visit, either Hubby or myself will make an announcement that will shock my family. Most often, the first response is 'why?'. Part of the problem is that I just don't know myself. Maybe I'm too close. Or maybe I just knew what I was getting into from the beginning.

We'd only been dating a week or so when we had our fist spat. I can't remember what it was, but I'm sure it was one of those little things that barely warrants an eye roll out of me these days. But Hubby got in broken down jeep that he was terrified to drive, and went to Walmart to buy me a stuffed panda bear that made sheep noises when you tilted it. I'll admit, it was cute, and we do still have it somewhere. But he never was able to explain why he, as a 19 year old, bought me, also 19, a stuffed baby panda bear. It's just the way he works.

Imagine my surprise a few months later, when walking around the Drillfield, he told me 'I think I want a motorcycle one day'. He's barely coordinated enough to walk and talk at the same time. And he won't drive my car because he's scared of the manual transmission. He knows how to drive, and does it very well. But he won't. When a coworker of his in Pennsylvania got a motorcycle (I guess 3-4 years ago now), that's all Hubby could talk about for weeks. 'P is saving this much on gas, and this much on car insurance' and 'if I had a motorcycle like P, I could....' To be fair, I always tuned those out, because he wasn't actually going to buy a motorcycle.

Then, another friend, A, told him that he should get a Vespa. That was maybe two years ago. He brought it up off and on until we discovered the move to Atlanta was happening. Then gradually became more 'on' than 'off'. Yesterday we got our motorcycle permits. In the next few weeks, I'm selling my darling Subaru Forrester, and taking on Hubby's Toyota Matrix just so that my darling can have the scooter that he's always wanted. Although he claims he's only wanted since January when he started actually going into the office at his new job.

My mom took the announcement that we were getting a scooter surprisingly well. Probably because of the announcement I'd made the last time I'd talked to them. My dad actually seemed excited about it, and was full of advice, but also gave a long version of the 'Don't Get Hurt' speech.

Anyone who knows us knows that Hubby is a hobbyist. He bakes all of our own bread and has maintained a sour dough culture now for several years. He decorates cakes. He crochets afghans. He gardens. And he is meticulous. For every single hobby that he has or wants, he has at least 3 google documents dedicated to that hobby. That I know of. And I know there are plenty that he won't share with me.

I have at least one Google Doc that contains only the animals that Hubby wants to keep as pets that are only found in zoos and circus acts. Like Elephants. And Tigers. As Pets. And he's closing in on 30. So my reaction shortly after we moved to Atlanta and our neighbors mentioned that they had chickens? 'Shit'. That's right, we're now raising chickens.

Again, I'm not surprised this happened. Several years ago, we were joking around with friends about preparations needed to prepare for the Zombie Apocalypse, when someone pointed out that we would be incapable of feeding ourselves if society crumbled, even if the zombies never made it to Central PA. If the grocery stores failed, we don't grow enough produce to support ourselves. Someone mentioned that chickens could easily be raised on a small plot of land. Hubby's eyes gleamed with excitement, and I knew right then that we would one day have chickens.

He'd managed to do a good job and keep it mostly hidden. He probably didn't even think we COULD keep chickens. Especially since we live in Atlanta. Not near. In. (but we've been over that). Turns out, we can have chickens if we live in Atlanta, but not if we live in unincorporated Dekalb County. Also, we're 'limited' to 25 chickens. We wanted four.

They are adorable, and will keep us overflowing with eggs in about 20 weeks. Until then, they get to use our guest room for the next 6-8 weeks (or possibly 4 if the weather holds out...that's when they should be fully feathered).

Internet Piracy is Bad. Internet Censorship is Worse

I know I'm a horrible person for not posting in forever.  I have a billion and a half excuses, but you won't believe them anyways.  The truth is I've been feeling very blah and uninspired.  There were a few times I started writing posts, but they were terrible, so I never posted them.  I even deleted them forever, so even if it was just my depression, it's too late now.  Who does depression hurt? You, bitches!

In reality I'm doing better-ish than I have been.  I'm currently off my meds, so my moods change violently by the minute.  But it's a dry-crazy.

So what have I been up to? Applying to every job conceivable and not getting any responses.  I had a few teaching interviews but they went nowhere.  I've been working as a tutor, but my only student moved to a school that didn't qualify for my services....and I still haven't been paid and I started in October.  Just before Christmas I was offered a job training volunteers for the Democratic Party of Georgia. However, it turns out that it was a trial to see how I would do doing door-to-door fundraising.  They didn't have me come back after the trial day.  Kinda depressing to be told that you can't even knock on doors and beg for money correctly.

I have had a few teaching interviews the last few weeks so *fingers crossed*.

What have I been doing in my free time, you ask? You stupid, stupid fool.  Yes, I am aware that insulting your readers is probably not the best idea, but you asked for it.  I cross-stitched for the first few months we were here...and I made REALLY good progress on that crazy project I shared.  I'm about 25% done if I remember right.  But then Hubby went and did something completely irrational.  He made me take a week off.  I haven't touched it since. I did an obscene amount of reading for the next month or two. Then something very strange happened.  I started writing.

Not this weird free-flow-where-I-try-to-be-witty-but-just-look-like-a-giant-ass-hat that I do here.  I mean like honest-to-God writing.  And it's been going really well.  Like I've written about 300 pages since November.  And I've put a lot of it online.  I'm very proud of it.  No, I'm not sharing it with everyone, but that's for a different reason.  If you're interested, contact me, and I'll think about it.  Until then, leave me alone!  It's actually been great because I've been talking with other writers from around the globe.  There's a long shot that you may have heard of a few of them, but they are quite good and it's been a very enjoyable way to pass the unemployment.

Which actually brings me around to what I wanted to write about today.  Internet piracy.  Stealing other people's work.  I've been told I should care more about it between my blog and my stories, and I do care.  Just not enough. I have spent countless hours writing and the last thing I want is for someone to steal my work and take credit for it.  It's not like I'm making any money off of it, and I'd be livid if someone else did.  I may some day, but that's another story. 

However bad piracy is, though, censorship is far worse.  SOPA and PIPA threaten the very existence of the internet as we know it. Long before Hubby has been around, the internet has always been the 'other woman' in my life, and she always will be. The internet is my passion and my creative outlet. It's always there for me and never once has it passed down judgment upon me.

It's the way I cope with the depression and mental issues that have plagued me most of my life, and it's the outlet I've found to express the creativity that I didn't even realize was buried within me.