by D. C. Haddock

Last night, I came home from work around eleven, intending to wash my hair and write a short update to the blog before heading to bed. So I finish up, sit down, all ready to start typing away, and two hours later I’m nearly finished and ready to end my newest entry; what was intended to be a short anecdote relaying a bit of my interesting night, turned into a detailed account of the strange characters that find their way into the restaurant, and the fascinating subjects and ideas that permeate the conversations in the dining room some nights. As I was shifting around to get comfortable under my covers (my room gets so cold) my little finger accidentally grazed a random key, and my browser shifted a page back. And I lost everything; almost eleven hundred words (which admittedly, may have been a bit excessive for a blog post…) down the drain. I was devastated. I mean, really? Seriously? What can you do in a situation like that? Trying to recreate the entire post was absolutely out of the question; it’s impossible to write the same thing in the same way twice. All I remembered was being extremely proud of what I had just created, and then to see it disappear as quickly as it had come out of my mind, was utterly demoralizing. The internet may be written in ink, but until you click submit, it’s only invisible ink.

In the morning when my head was a bit clearer and the drowsiness of the busy work night had faded, I sat down on the couch with a cup of coffee to watch the morning news program; anyone who has half a brain and a TV knows that Hurricane Sandy and the ruin left in the wake of its destructive path has been plastered in every corner of every medium of media since last weekend. The stories are awful; catastrophic flooding in Manhattan, homes completely swept away, missing persons, lack of power and heat in the frigid weather, families with nowhere to go except to crowded hotels, lines at gas stations where desperate people wait in lines that stretch for miles… and I’m sitting here, saddened over the loss of a blog post. A blog post. There are people who lost absolutely everything just a few states north of me, who are still searching for missing neighbors and friends, who will still be rebuilding the bits and pieces of their lives years after the media has finally deemed the catastrophe old hat to the country. I don’t think there’s anything else to say about that; perspective, folks. Whenever you think you’ve got it bad, there is someone, somewhere in the world who has it much worse.