Opening night.

Since about the beginning of the year, Google has been my quiet little refuge from the world. Gmail is a source constant hope and wonder whether I check my inbox and see messages from various rental properties or replies to my posts on my favorite PBeMs. It does a wondrous thing and signs me not only into the Gmail chat function, but also into AIM, saving me time since I do not have to download that horrendous program. Unlike my Yahoo! account, I never wake up to pages upon pages of spam. All in all, I can sing the praises of Google and Gmail to the man above for about 20 minutes (my usual attention span).

I hate MySpace. I get on about every week to clean my profile up, delete comments, and enjoy in a bout of snarky replies with those guys that just don't take a hint. Facebook is no good for blogging, though I have used it before. So where does one go? This one stumbles upon a giant 'B' on her Gmail account. Thus on one rainy, storm-filled potential day, I realize all my answers have been solved. I don't have to mess with LiveJournal and the drama that seems to stalk everyone I know on there, I don't have to stretch my creativity to make my posts acceptable for DeviantArt, and best of all, I don't know anyone who uses this. If I asked, I'm sure I would find, but right now I like the feeling anonymity. I have a diary in the drawer next to me. When Adam left for India for three weeks, it was my personal outlet. But now that those three weeks have come and gone, I feel like it's served it's purpose. There's an outlet for every stage of life. Right now Blogger fits the bill.

Everyone has different coping mechanisms. I write. I fill pages upon pages, be it lined paper or a Word document, with emotional spew. Sometimes I save it when I think I've reached some sort of summit that needs to be remembered and maybe celebrates. Most of the time though, I end up deleting my words, and I always regret it. It's not generally until after the fact that I realize how important what I said could be. I'm not talking about importance to the general population or even to my loved ones, but to me. When I delete something I've written there's always that uncertainty that follows. Did I just get rid of something that could have been of great value? Did I delete it because subconsciously I didn't want to learn what lessons might have been hidden within?

I guess you could say I'm a word hoarder. I have notes saved from when I was in middle school and high school from people I barely remember. The smallest things written by Adam find their way into my wallet, and my little brothers and sisters stories and clumsy written "I love you"s flood my drawers and mark pages in my books. I keep them there and they gather.

And that's why I established another blog. I have my thoughts chronicled.

Now here comes the hard part. I've already explained why I created a blog. I wanted a quiet little spot on the corner of the internet to blog in peace. Now comes the expected "About me" post. It's horribly common and overdone. I could shake my fist at anyone who reads this and say "Just read and find out. Develop your own opinions". In this day and age that expectation is rare. People are lazy now. We'd rather read a profile and judge based off of that rather than judge based off the words and writing. I don't have my profile part filled in yet. I don't know when I will. If you really want to know, look me up on Facebook. It's there. I'll give you the short (don't hold me to this) and sweet (my I hope so) version.

I'm Megan Hackbarth. No, I'm not ashamed to put my name on the internet. If you really want to stalk me down or steal my identity, go for it. It's not that great of one. I have no money and no credit cards so there. I'm around 5'2" and weigh...well I don't know. I do my best not to step on a scale. I have stretchmarks and the cursed extra skin that seems to accompany the average pregnancy. My hair is messy and generally hidden under a hat or pulled back in a headband. I'm not overly sociable; I don't like to go out unless it's with a close friend. I hate the stupidity of the average bar. I like quiet places where someone and I can talk or laugh without screaming to be heard. My major alcoholic loves are Bloody Mary's, mojitos, margaritas (blended please), Washington Red Apples, and whiskey sours.

I will be a veterinary technician in a couple of years and wish to focus on the rescue and rehabilitation of feral cats. I've had a lot of people ask why I don't want to be a vet or why I don't help people. A.) I don't feel like going through that much school. Vet techs. are more hands-on and interact with the animals on a more day-to-day basis. It also allows me the time to pursue rescue on the side. B.) I believe responsibility begins with the small creatures in this world. If we can't teach people how to take care of an animal properly, then how can we expect that person to contribute fully in a good way to society? Besides, just because an animal doesn't walk on two feet doesn't mean they aren't deserving of a good quality life.

And because this generally needs to be stapled on the front of every blog, I am happily in an invested relationship going on three years this upcoming October. I love Adam with all my heart and it would be insulting to me to have someone try and push me to feel otherwise. It won't happen and chances are, you head, whether literally or metaphorically, will be removed from your head. I wouldn't intrude upon someone else's relationship. Do me a favor and grant me the same respect.

I adore a lot of different things. I play an online game called PonyIsland because it fulfills my childhood dedication to My Little Ponies. Who wouldn't want their own brightly colored ponies to care for? I also am involved in Pern based roleplay. Outside the internet I am an avid reader and betta breeder. Currently I have a tank of fry growing up and it's awesomely fun to care for them. I love my bettas dearly...almost as much as I love my cats. I'm very involved with my family and have a few close friends I would do anything for. I have a lot of little obsessions that spring up now and then from Korean ball-joint dolls to pretty beads I wish I had the money for. I enjoy the steampunk culture/style and have a mild fascination with gothic Lolita. Not that I could ever afford to or pull of either of those styles. Still, they're intriguing.

I can't think of much else.