So, I had this blog post I'd been writing for a few days now--
It should be quite apparent to any reader who frequents my blog more than occasionally that I post entries rather sporadically.
It should also be apparent to this same reader that my blog entries are quite lengthy, full of research, and obviously labors of love.
I had a very long entry I'd been working on and was going post Monday, November 22nd. But--
the whole fucking thing was inadvertently deleted.
Now... I am post-less, and I am working from scratch, trying so damned hard to remember everything that disappeared in a moment of haphazardness. The tragedy of my writing style is that I typically use my typing fingers as the sort of exit point for what streams through my mind. Unfortunately, that is no good when you've deleted a post.
The funniest thing is I was sitting at my computer hours and hours before this most infuriating event and, as I marveled at the amount of work I'd put in thus far--because today was a wonderful day of progress and mental creativity, I thought to myself, Desiree, wouldn't it be horrible if all of a sudden this post disappeared?
Naturally, I cringed at the thought and told myself it was impossible.
However, it is not so impossible.....
So, at this point, I am so fucking pissed off and I don't feel like writing. I feel like crying but that is something that does not come easily in these circumstances. At least for me.
Now, I wouldn't mind having someone to blame but, alas, I can only blame myself. It was my highlighting and my "delete" key. I can't even remember what happened. I guess I was so excited to get a post out that I got sloppy and reckless in tidying up loose ends before moving on to the final segment of the piece--
And, then... sadness.
Now, I've lost work before. I had a flash drive with good fiction on it and, because I am a messy, right-brained person, I think it fell off my desk and into the trash can. That hurt, but not as bad is this. I think it's the aspect of sharing these posts with other people; that lost fiction was private, my eyes only.
So.... for everyone who reads my blog, I anticipate another day or two that you will have to come on and roll your eyes because Desiree has still not posted anything new.
I just thought you all ought to know. This is a very sad way to end this Sunday evening.
I feel sick. And discombobulated. I'm going to have to have some time to get my thoughts together. Yes, I could try to write to something else in the vault but there really is a sequential pattern to these things. This lost post was supposed to be next and nothing else can come before it.
And to think: I've been writing all day long.
I think it's the Curse of Jacko. My mother thinks this is the same reason my hard drive crashed in October, because I was talking 'bad' about Michael.
I don't know...
All I do know for certain is that, for one brief moment, I could have plunged my hand through a human chest and pulled out a beating heart. With no remorse either. I'm calm now, although madness seems to still agitate every nerve in my body.
Really... this is not me being dramatic. I lost a ton of work. I worry that it won't be as good as the original when I go to rewrite it, too....
Welcome to my fucking (!!!) Hell.
Your Humble Narrator.