My name is Nina. And I’m a Font-aholic.
I admit my addiction. Sometimes, I wake up in the middle of the night shaking with delirium tremens and I know — just KNOW — that if I don’t get a font fix I will die.
I quietly slip out of bed so I don’t disturb my husband. I don’t want him to know about my addiction and what I’m doing. (At times I feel so ashamed . . . ) I don’t care that it is 2:00 a.m. I sneak downstairs, start my wireless connection, boot up my computer, and then search for free fonts.
I have hundreds of them.
I want hundreds more. More, I say. MORE! I’m dizzy and light-headed from my craving.
It is called For the One Hundredth Time and you can find it here in case you are interested in joining me in my addiction. There are other fonts there, too. I limit myself to only two or three free font downloads at a time. I don’t want this source to dry up on me. I’m taking my downloads nice and slow.
Wait. Isn’t a public acknowledgment the first step to recovery from addiction? I don’t think I want to recover just yet.
I want to hide under a pile fonts that is hundreds of feet tall. I want to feel their caress, to smell their breath, to feel the coolness of their serifs on my fevered brow. They bring joy and delight to the font folder in my computer system. I don’t like the horrifying thoughts of an empty font folder. It scares the bee-gees out of me.
Shhhhhhhh. Please don’t tell anybody about my addiction. I don’t want people sniggering at me behind their hands as they pass me on the street. Let’s just pretend that I haven’t said anything to you about it. We’ll smile, nod our heads, and go on our merry ways.
Agreed? Agreed. Thank you.