Hello Online Media. Now I’ve got an Instagram

It must be the twilight zone because I now have an Instagram.

Me.

The not-really-a-social media-person-person.

This blog was like, a big step. Two years (I think?) and I’m still wary about what I put up, how much content to share and if there really are people hiding in the bushes. Not because I think I’m like *totally* stalkable (even though I am, and have been) but it’s the personal information thing. The, “oh she posted that one picture of her window and using my dope techie skills, I now know where she lives” thing. It’s shit like that that really freaks me out, especially since I’m pretty sure the government watches me through the television. Batman thinks I’m paranoid. I’m not paranoid. I’m cautious. The less people know, the less they can use against you and all that. But when you’re trying not to fade into the shadows, it’s difficult to keep up with others since it’s sort of a necessity in today’s society.

I didn’t want to get a blog when I did. But everything I read said I should engage in some form of social media if I want to make it. I’ve got to have an online presence or I don’t exist. There went my sitting in the back of the class, hoping the teacher didn’t call on me. And now you’re saying I HAVE TO ENGAGE WITH PEOPLE? TO LIKE, BE SUCCESSFUL? Damn. Damn, damn, damn. It’s not been terrible, I admit. But still. Damn.

Anyway, Batman and I had Appa at the vet Saturday and I took (what I think) was the cutest picture of him (the dog—not Batman) and had to share it with someone, so I sent it to my sister and mom. Ahem:

Appa at the Vet

Look at that face. How is that face not to be shared? It is obviously *totes* sharable. Wanting everyone else to fall in love with him like I have, I broke down and joined Instagram. So far, Appa dominates the photos but I feel I’ve slipped another toe into the rest of modern society. I’m not a full blown social-median, but at least I’ve poked my head a little further out from behind this rock. I get points for that, right? The answer is yes, I get points for that.

And since everyone’s writing their yearly goals—and apparently I’ve succumbed to a sharing mood—I’ll join the convo:

Goal 1: Publish Crusade Across Worlds, Book 4 of Arizal Wars.

Goal 2: Market/learn to market/pay someone to market/rent a blimp with the book’s title and fly it around book conventions. Or do all four.

Goal 3: Enter more competitions/anthologies/ get my writing out there.

Goal 4:  Go to another writing/reading convention and make friends/connections. Either will do.

Goal 5:  Actually reach my Goodreads reading goal of 25 books (I’m feeling more optimistic about this one).

Goal 6: Learn to play Hallelujah on the keyboard I’ve been neglecting. (Dad, I’m finally making use of this gift. Only three years late!)

Goal 7: Keep up the positivity / continue to say no to stress and worry. They solve nothing.

I’m sure there are more goals I want to achieve but I’ll figure them out as I go. Plus, seven seems like an attainable number and as I’d like to reach each finish line, I’ll start with these. What about you guys? Anything you want to accomplish in 2016? Are you going to join modern society with social media a bit more like me? What do you visualize for yourself for the next twelve months?

Not Quite a Flying Bison

I couldn’t decide which picture would best sum up Appa.

I think this one of him sleeping is it:

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Ladies and gentlemen, I have a puppy. And after four weeks he is STILL ALIVE.

Does this mean I might be able do to the same with a baby one day? Nope, not likely. But at least there’s some hope now.

I meant to write this post about the world’s most adorable (and amazing) puppy like, three weeks ago, but the problem with having the world’s most adorable (and amazing) puppy is finding time to blog about said dog. Thank God I took pictures. Lots and lots of pictures. Pretty sure I scored an eye roll from Batman every time I whipped out the phone but come on, man, dog’s only going to stay a pup for so long. Besides, it’s my responsibility as a new puppy-mommy to share adorable pics with people who like looking at cute photos of dogs they don’t have to take care of.

So, without further ado, say hello to Appa:

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“I want to cuddle up next to you. Is that alright?”

 

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“I wasn’t the one who chewed on the blanket. I promise.”

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“Lady, get the f****** phone out of my face.”

No, I'm not trying to write or anything.

“I know you’re trying to write but…”

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“What do you mean ‘bad dog?'”

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“Ssshh, mom. I see something.”

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“I’m sexy and I know it.”

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“Hmm, wonder where we’re going next.”

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“I f****** love car rides.”

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“…and sleeping on daddy.”

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“Get away from my paws, mom. That’s weird.”

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“Remember my name.”

Totes adorbs. Totes in love.

*sigh*

He may not be a flying pet bison (The Last Airbender anyone?) but he’s the best German Short Haired Pointer EVER. And I love him. And you should too. And I will try not to let him keep me from writing but a new puppy-mom’s got to do what a new puppy-mom’s got to do.

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And that’s loving the shit out of this little fucker.

Waiting for Appa

We almost got a puppy.

I mean, not really because it was never an option—money, you know?—but I came this close to convincing Batman that what our new apartment really needed, besides being able to pay for itself, was the *adorable* brown and beige Rottweiler we were holding.

He.was.too.cute.

The kind of puppy that just melted into your arms and even though you know you shouldn’t, you’re already trying out names for him.

“Are you Appa? Or Zero?” I kept rubbing my nose against his while Batman scratched behind his big brown ears.

Yes, we already know the name of our future dog and yes, you did read that correct. It will either be Appa (from the Last Airbender—my choice) or Zero, (from The Nightmare Before Christmas—his choice.) I don’t see why we need to pick between them; we could solve this dilemma quite easily simply be getting two puppies. Batman does not agree.

He was swayed there for a moment, though. I could tell—I knew that look. Like he was trying to put all the factors in place and maybe, somehow convince himself that a new Rottweiler puppy could make sense even though we have no money to buy it or cage it or feed it or keep it healthy. Also, there’s the space issue and of course, the poor dog would be left alone most of the day leaving our new, totally awesome apartment in shambles. So many cons and yet… such an adorable little blue-eyed face.

It was tough.

Alas, we’re too responsible (damn it!)We left little Appa or Zero with his litter of siblings and instead came home with this fine character:

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I know. Not as cute as the dog but way more affordable. We had to come home from the arts and crafts fair with something and this little dude just hangs on the wall waiting for a hug. I suspect it would pinch and there wouldn’t be any warm snuggling but… at least I can leave the apartment and know its keeping itself company. I’d feel bad for the puppy.

But I do want one. Maybe a corgi. Or a Cocker spaniel. Or one of the shepherd breeds. Preferably something that’s lazy like me and enjoys the couch; something soft and cozy that would outlast all dog expectations and never die and go to Heaven because that movie made me cry. But getting a dog is a big, big deal. You’re adopting a new member into your family and for so long it’s just been Batman and me. And at the beginning of our relationship, a chunky guinea pig named Abner.

Okay, fine. Abner was obese (probably led to the massive heart attack he endured) but I still miss the little guy. Miss his squeaking and jumping with excitement (when he still could) whenever I’d come home. But I’d have to be home a lot more for a dog—otherwise I wouldn’t feel right. Darn society and the way it works!

Someday I’ll get Appa and/or Zero and my llamas and the pen of ostriches for the monthly races. I’ll probably have some penguins and rabbits and in my “China Exhibit,” a big panda I can go and snuggle with whenever Batman’s off fighting crime (he doesn’t think having a panda is a good idea. Well he can suck it because I’m getting one.)

I just have to wait for the day I go to a fair or a pound or a show and find Appa. And because I’ll be a fabulously wealthy stay-at-home author, I’ll nod at Fartswell and he’ll pay the man while I’m scooping up our newest family member. And I’ll snuggle with her and Batman will nod and I’ll finally be able to say:

“You’re coming home with me, Appa. I’ve been waiting for you.”

In case you’re wondering what Abner looked like:

Abner

Abner

Abner still in his younger, thinner days

Abner still in his younger, thinner days

Abner super close up, judging me

Abner super close up, judging me

Abner being shy

Abner being shy