Dreamhost Triannual Webhosting Renewal
Promptly after midnight, my Dreamhost triannual website hosting bill was auto-charged. Since this charge only happens once every three years, it's the kind of milestone that invites me to stop and reflect.
Dreamhost is a great company! In all these years, they've done nothing to fuck me over. No intrusive pointless UI redesigns. No outrageous nickel-and-diming of fees. Nothing unreasonable in their terms. Great customer service on the rare occasion I need it. And I have never lost data on their servers. At Dreamhost they do their job very well, putting companies like Google and Facebook to shame. (Live Journal is another company that's done well over the years.)
The first charge, when I created the account in July of 2008, was graciously paid by Michael. At the time we working together on a project, and we were still friends. He was something of a benefactor, often letting me eat off his UW meal card, and doing gracious things like paying for my first three years of webhosting. (That's not nothing: It's 286 dollars!) Back in those days the world was a more dynamic place, including the online world, and Michael wanted me to have these kinds of resources as much as I wanted to have them. It was expected that people like us would have our own websites, and I certainly had plenty I wanted to put online, even though it would be several years before I made any real progress on that front.
In 2011, when the bill came round again, my life was in a very different place. I had left Seattle in ignominy, and parlayed my exile to travel the South. I had ended up on the Mountain a few months prior, so my life was in a different place, yes, but a good place. However, Michael and I were no longer friends, and I had no illusions about anyone footing the bill for me. I paid for it myself using Content Mill funds, although you could argue that Amy subsidized it since I was staying in her house. (I mean, it was "our" house as long as we were a couple--this was an important detail of language that mattered to both of us--but, in the grand scheme of things, and as the present day attests, it was always her house.) By this point I had realized that image sharing sites don't store your images forever, so I was beginning to use my Dreamhost space to store images for my journal. But that was basically all I was using it for.
In 2014, the Year of 32 was unofficially underway. Very soon I would (finally!) build an actual website, CuriousTale.org. It was a mere six years and $860 later. (That's not counting domain registration costs, which I pay every spring, and which have cost me even more.) Oh, don't get me wrong, though. It's hard to explain succinctly, but I'm glad I spent that money. Having web hosting service...to me it feels like being dressed when you go out. It just makes me feel better about myself and who I am, and it always has. It's something you're supposed to have if you're somebody like me.
I'm poor enough that these triannual bills are a pretty major deal. I plan for them all year leading up to July, saving money. If I recall, things were not great financially in 2014. But I still managed to pay this.
In 2017 it was much, much worse: I used essentially the last of my Working America savings. I knew that I was fucked either way in terms of my rental payment obligations in the months to come, so it made sense to pay this bill and at least keep my websites and web hosting online. I did consider dropping it, but that would have been a suicidal decision. I was in an extremely bad place at this point in 2017, and had also endured most of the Troubles by that point. Being able to pay this bill was a victory and a privilege and an honor.
And now here we are in 2020, twelve years into the journey. Dreamhost, somehow, still charges the same amount. Web domain registration fees have gone up a good 50 percent, but that's not Dreamhost's doing. In the area where they do have price control, they've kept prices low. Did I mention they're amazing? This time, I paid the bill almost as easily as I ever have. Now, I had to plan and save all year for it, same as in the past, but plan I did. And it's not coming out of the rent money either, at least not in a meaningful way. (One could argue that, when you're poor, all money is rent money, because eventually the day will come when you can't afford to pay rent, and by literally never buying anything else, one can theoretically postpone that day somewhat.) I haven't done anything with CuriousTale.org in the past couple of years, focusing my very limited and tenuous creative discipline elsewhere. But I still think about it often, and I miss writing the articles. I also haven't built any of the other websites that I've had in mind over the years. But perhaps one day.
I don't know if this is a luxury or not. It depends how you define "luxury," I guess. Given how poor I am, I do feel self-conscious talking about how I spend $286 every three years on what is technically aesthetics but effectively vanity. But even if it does give people the impression that I'm a wanton spender, I've always been proud to have this bill--or, rather, the service that it pays for. It's a little piece of my identity.
I have no idea what the world will be like in 2023, or if I will exist in it. Since the Troubles I no longer have that anticipation of continuity. But if I'm around, I hope I'm able to pay my hosting then, too. And who knows: Maybe I'll have more of a footprint on that web space.
Dreamhost is a great company! In all these years, they've done nothing to fuck me over. No intrusive pointless UI redesigns. No outrageous nickel-and-diming of fees. Nothing unreasonable in their terms. Great customer service on the rare occasion I need it. And I have never lost data on their servers. At Dreamhost they do their job very well, putting companies like Google and Facebook to shame. (Live Journal is another company that's done well over the years.)
The first charge, when I created the account in July of 2008, was graciously paid by Michael. At the time we working together on a project, and we were still friends. He was something of a benefactor, often letting me eat off his UW meal card, and doing gracious things like paying for my first three years of webhosting. (That's not nothing: It's 286 dollars!) Back in those days the world was a more dynamic place, including the online world, and Michael wanted me to have these kinds of resources as much as I wanted to have them. It was expected that people like us would have our own websites, and I certainly had plenty I wanted to put online, even though it would be several years before I made any real progress on that front.
In 2011, when the bill came round again, my life was in a very different place. I had left Seattle in ignominy, and parlayed my exile to travel the South. I had ended up on the Mountain a few months prior, so my life was in a different place, yes, but a good place. However, Michael and I were no longer friends, and I had no illusions about anyone footing the bill for me. I paid for it myself using Content Mill funds, although you could argue that Amy subsidized it since I was staying in her house. (I mean, it was "our" house as long as we were a couple--this was an important detail of language that mattered to both of us--but, in the grand scheme of things, and as the present day attests, it was always her house.) By this point I had realized that image sharing sites don't store your images forever, so I was beginning to use my Dreamhost space to store images for my journal. But that was basically all I was using it for.
In 2014, the Year of 32 was unofficially underway. Very soon I would (finally!) build an actual website, CuriousTale.org. It was a mere six years and $860 later. (That's not counting domain registration costs, which I pay every spring, and which have cost me even more.) Oh, don't get me wrong, though. It's hard to explain succinctly, but I'm glad I spent that money. Having web hosting service...to me it feels like being dressed when you go out. It just makes me feel better about myself and who I am, and it always has. It's something you're supposed to have if you're somebody like me.
I'm poor enough that these triannual bills are a pretty major deal. I plan for them all year leading up to July, saving money. If I recall, things were not great financially in 2014. But I still managed to pay this.
In 2017 it was much, much worse: I used essentially the last of my Working America savings. I knew that I was fucked either way in terms of my rental payment obligations in the months to come, so it made sense to pay this bill and at least keep my websites and web hosting online. I did consider dropping it, but that would have been a suicidal decision. I was in an extremely bad place at this point in 2017, and had also endured most of the Troubles by that point. Being able to pay this bill was a victory and a privilege and an honor.
And now here we are in 2020, twelve years into the journey. Dreamhost, somehow, still charges the same amount. Web domain registration fees have gone up a good 50 percent, but that's not Dreamhost's doing. In the area where they do have price control, they've kept prices low. Did I mention they're amazing? This time, I paid the bill almost as easily as I ever have. Now, I had to plan and save all year for it, same as in the past, but plan I did. And it's not coming out of the rent money either, at least not in a meaningful way. (One could argue that, when you're poor, all money is rent money, because eventually the day will come when you can't afford to pay rent, and by literally never buying anything else, one can theoretically postpone that day somewhat.) I haven't done anything with CuriousTale.org in the past couple of years, focusing my very limited and tenuous creative discipline elsewhere. But I still think about it often, and I miss writing the articles. I also haven't built any of the other websites that I've had in mind over the years. But perhaps one day.
I don't know if this is a luxury or not. It depends how you define "luxury," I guess. Given how poor I am, I do feel self-conscious talking about how I spend $286 every three years on what is technically aesthetics but effectively vanity. But even if it does give people the impression that I'm a wanton spender, I've always been proud to have this bill--or, rather, the service that it pays for. It's a little piece of my identity.
I have no idea what the world will be like in 2023, or if I will exist in it. Since the Troubles I no longer have that anticipation of continuity. But if I'm around, I hope I'm able to pay my hosting then, too. And who knows: Maybe I'll have more of a footprint on that web space.