I don't wish to relive it, I did end up getting my writing back, it took me two hours of dangerously dipping in and out of having a nervous breakdown, but I did get it back. Somehow, I had replaced me on my computer with my Husband, his computer name, and files, and bookmarks. I was trying to get my itunes off his computer onto mine (he said I must, plus you can only have one itunes library so, I might as well have it on my computer). Finally I decided to just quit, and as I did I noticed the log out feature, and I realized I could log out as him, and then there I was, a picture of me, and my name, I started hyper ventilating I was so nervous, I clicked on it, and then I saw my agave screen, and then I saw the nissus writer express icon, still hyperventilating, heart beating so hard, will it be there? Will my writing be there? and then...it was. And I broke into tears (oh I had been crying off and on, the whole time, had to leave the room twice, but now I did it because I was relieved and happy). At which point my husband started laughing "it's gonna be ok" he patted my shoulder. He told me later, he was so glad the writing was still there, he was getting worried about me (mentally). We decided that I must burn my files to disk, tried, discovered I have no idea how to do this. I did make sure I printed a copy of everything. I figured out, somehow my Husband was on my computer as another account. I still couldn't access my itunes library from his computer and put it in mine, even though both itunes libraries were now on my computer. I ended up downloading itunes version 7 and using my ipod to transfer the songs, from my computer to my computer (curse the evil firwire, helped me not). I was so happy as I purged all my husband's info from my computer, that's right I am the administator, you are denied access, you are deleted, be gone. Ahh, just me and my files again. (I hope to never touch another fire wire cable again)
I tend to have troubles with my technology, my first ipod had this habit, of just deleting all the songs on it, I would go to use it and it would just be blank, (and I would spiral into this really bad place, as I went back on itunes, because all the software on it was wiped out, I had to restore it and go through all this junk to get it working again, and I could never remember how to do it, so it took hours, and then a month, or a week or a day later- all gone. At first the people at the apple store thought it was me, something I was doing (kept telling me this, and that, and don't do that yada yada, I said I wasn't doing that. I could tell they didn't believe me). Finally I freaked out on the man on the phone, he said bring it in (hung up then I am sure he went over to share story with co-workers of crazy lady on phone). Rather condescending when I came in ( I was very meek, embarrassed by my behavior on phone), he acted like this is all you gotta do, and hooked it up- and nada. I was never so happy to have it not working right. He gave me a new one, no problems with it at all. Except the time I left it in a hotel safety thing, (you know the safe in the room), and realized it hours later, we were still in Florida but at a different place in Disney. When I realized it, I went to get my husband and son, at pool. He says when he saw my face and the look in my eyes, he thought someone had died. I mean really he thought my Mom had called me to tell me someone had died. Several bad hours followed, we went back to other hotel, but they changed the locks, and housekeeping could possibly have found it, but they were probably gone for the day. I was freaking out and panicking, my husband has pictures of it, he thought it was funny (it was so annoying "wow you should see yourself, you look awful" click click of camera. I got it back that day, but I was shaken (we get basically no radio reception where we live, and my ipod is necessary for things like, exercising, cleaning, gardening, paintng walls, getting up and ready in the morning, and for writing- backgorund noise that helps quell terror). (actually I had written squel- a personal hybrid of quell, and squelch I suppose. I don't mind so much that I don't know things, but that I wont know them drives me nuts. I'll do it again tomorrow, I wont remember what I find out today.)
Speaking of shaken I felt sick and shaken for hours after I got my writing back. I was furious with myself for risking my writing over those songs. I would have smashed my ipod to pieces if that had been the price to get those words back. I had worked on my writing all last week, I haven't worked on it at all yet this week (but I got my darn itunes all squared away).
I feel weird about how much it means to me ( I mean regardless of the quality of writing, it is time, and effort, and I struggle with parts, and parts just make me sad now, and I don't want to have to think them up again) (even though well I know in the rewrites I will have to- re-imagine, relive), but even so, I seem to lack perspective, I mean my Mom put a dog down this weekend, and my BF had a misscarriage, and I spent yesterday printing out the memorial trubutes to my 14 yr old cousin who died in Dec., and still I am able to have a nervous breakdown over some lost words.
I have to get back to writing tomorrow, I feel exhausted when I think of it, so I will have to come up with some way to sneak up on it. I will lie to myself and say I am only doing this one thing, this small part, typing up something I already wrote in my notebook, or going through the pages I printed out Friday and placing them with the parts of the story they go with (cut and paste) and I know once I am there, in it, I will keep going, I just have to con myself so I can get myself there in the first place. Pathtetic I know. I lie to myself about other things as well, like the dishes. "You only have to wash these plates" or "You only have to empty the dishwasher, you can fill it tomorrow" and thus I go over to the sink and start, and keep going till I am done, and get mad if someone interrupts me, because then I will have to start process of conning myself into starting all over again.
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