FUCK. That’s pretty much what sums up the last two days. As if miscarrying a child and having a sick kid at home wasn’t punishment enough, my thumb drive decided to erase all my files and DIE. And let me tell you what an idiot I am: no backup. That’s right. So I lost: pictures from about a year of random net collecting, documents integral to the teaching of my online course, and some fiction that I ADORED. It was on our laptop at home but I just moved it to the thumb drive so I could format said laptop. I think this is a true Fuck my life moment.
I keep thinking of stuff I need to list that will need to be recreated and each time I remember a new one, I say fuck. It’s the word of the day. I hate feeling like this, especially since it’s my own goddam fault. I tell you what; I get into this mode and I just don’t give a shit anymore and I want to yell and cry and be all boisterous and out of control, which is SO not like me. But I must get hold of myself. I’m a grown-ass woman who can handle situations like this, for they are bound to happen. I could not do anything about the miscarriage. One in five women. That’s the stat. The files? I should have known better. Some of it was fanfiction. I was keeping it secret so there was no backup. I mean, no self-respecting writer tells people that she wastes her time on that drivel. But I did. And I liked it. And it was not that bad. But now it’s gone.
One of the files was this story I wrote – well, 8 single spaced pages – about two people named Constance and Aurelio. And it was good. And every time I reread it, I was amazed at what I had produced because the voices were so genuine and not like what I normally write. And I knew if I could just keep it up, it would have turned into something. Now I know some famous writer said that it helps to write something then destroy it, then recreate it. Maybe it’ll be better. But the fact is: I worked hard on that and I don’t want to do it again. Same goes for the online class files. THOSE I want back. That work and effort? Took a long time. And I am PISSED that I have to struggle through that again.
It’s lame to say I’d like to just cry about it but I don’t do that at work. Ever.
With that, I leave you. I hope everyone is having a much better day/week than I am. I really do.