Here’s me, days after losing a bunch of unsaved files to a computer crash, staring sulkily at my computer. “The thing is, even though I hadn’t finished any of those pieces, my brain won’t let go of the fact that they’re gone.”
“Write something else.”
I shake my head. “I keep thinking of the lost files and how I was just on the verge of turning those words into something I liked, and now they’re gone, and every time I sit down at my computer, all I can think of are the missing words and so then I think maybe I’ll just write those words again but that doesn’t work because even as I start typing my brain gets all pissed off about how I got it right the first time and this time won’t be the same and so I should start writing something else except what about those words I lost those were good words and so maybe I should spend another hour or so looking for them in case they exist as ghosts somewhere in the machine.”
Mark shakes his head. “Nope. They’re gone. I looked everywhere.”
I slump forward onto my desk, sink my head into my arms as though waiting for someone from second grade to show up and start a game of Heads-up Seven-up.
“You OK?”
With all the maturity of a second grader, I sadly extend a thumbs-up fist beside my head … like I’m cheerful except so very not and anyway, the only person here is Mark and so if he were to press my thumb down, guessing his identity wouldn’t be much of a challenge and maybe I’ll just roll from here onto the ground and fetal-position until someone who is not me (obviously) addresses my woes.
Mark clears his throat helpfully, and I say, without lifting my head, “Please do not speak to me again of all the ways my failings and inefficiencies led to the loss of those files. Shhhh.”
“I wasn’t going to say any such thing.”
“Just don’t … you don’t understand.” I turn my face in my arms to stare at him. “You don’t understand.”
He says, not without sympathy, summing up the situation, “I do understand — You didn’t want to lose the files and now they’re gone.”
I sit up, my voice revelatory. “OH MY GOD, THAT’S IT EXACTLY. I WAS SITTING HERE ALL AMBIGUOUSLY SAD AND YOU HAVE JUST NAILED THE EMOTION’S DERIVATION FOR ME. BAM. WHAT WOULD I DO WITHOUT YOU?”
Mark sighs and turns back to the electrical outlet he is re-wiring. “This is why it’s hard to talk to you sometimes.”
“THE FILES WERE HERE AND NOW THEY ARE NOT DESPITE THE FACT THAT I CONTINUE TO WANT THEM TO BE HERE. THAT IS SO EXACTLY IT. HOW LUCKY AM I TO HAVE YOU? THIS MARRIAGE KICKS ASS, THAT’S ALL I HAVE TO SAY.”
“Glad I could be here for you.”
“IT’S LIKE I WAS BLIND AND NOW I CAN SEE AGAIN! YOU’VE CLEARED THE FOG AND THE COBWEBS AND THE MIASMA OF DESPAIR! YAY!”
“You are impossible.”
Here’s me, staring sulkily at my computer. “Stupid computer.”
“Write something else.”
I stab testily at a few keys, open a blank document. “Maybe I will.”
“Want me to show you how to save the file?”
Sigh.
Worst. Non-death-divorce-destruction-or-seven-plagues-of-something Feeling. Ever. My condolences for your missing words.
On a positive note that I hope will help at least a little bit, my Mom called today. And yes, while that is always a good thing to me, she wanted to tell me how much she loves the book I gave her for Christmas. She is absolutely in love with Fightball!
There were a few too many words about how she related to you and how she knew how you felt, but that was about the time I decided the call needed wrapping up and reminded her to leave a review on Amazon.
So, bummer to lost words, but yay to Mom loving ones that you already published!
This:
There were a few too many words about how she related to you and how she knew how you felt, but that was about the time I decided the call needed wrapping up and reminded her to leave a review on Amazon.
Oh my god, so much laughter … I love you and your mom both.
I think I know where Maj gets her dramatics.
Dramatics?
You sound like a woman who always remembers to save her files.
I’m right, aren’t I?
Save files? What is this thing of which you speak?
Without going into the details of why I did not have the auto-save features correctly configured on this new computer of mine …
I am in the habit of minimizing but not saving things with which I am not yet finished. Lately, I have been starting quite a few pieces without a sense of where they are going, and so I minimize them and leave those pieces until I figure out where the next words go. A bad habit.
And this time, costly.
Hmmph.
My photos automatically back up to 3 places online. My words? Not so much, not at all in fact. I’ve lost lots of words as well. I get it. I hope that it never happens again and that you figure out a less costly system that works for you.
I’m good … just needed to acknowledge the lost words so I can stop looking for them.
Thanks, you.
My first thought too! Though I bet Maj backs up files in several ways.
MAJ HAS HAD HER ISSUES OVER THE YEARS, PEOPLE.
But yes … she is good about saving her files.
Hmmph.
1) I will not say that you should ALWAYS SAVE because then I would have to admit that I save in many, many places because I can never remember what folder I used or where, in fact, these folders live. This is why God gave us the search function. (For those without God, tough bikkies.)
2) I am increasingly unable to differentiate between you and the Maj. Karma is a thing, huh?
3) Mark should have been a professional electrician.
4) Because he is so illuminating.
5) Quack
For those without God, tough bikkies?
OUT LOUD LAUGHTER.
As for the other … Maj doesn’t speak here too much these days, so this is me.
Always.
I need autosave for my brain. There are so many awesome words knitted together in places the computer is not. Usually while driving. But once in front of the screen, they are gone.
Poof.
My iPhone has a notes feature that allows me to dictate. As long as I don’t get a ticket for using my phone while driving, it’s awesome. Shhhh.
SO AWESOME.
As far as marriage direction goes I may have put an “End scene” after “Maybe I will.”
I do love the ending though.
Mark could occasionally use an “END SCENE” direction.
He so could.