It happened. Something I've always suspected would happen finally did.
My computer crashed. Spectacularly.
It crashed so hard, no data could be recovered from the crashed hard drive. This is where you ask me if I backed up. And this is where I shamefully hang my head and say no. I have a Mac, Macs aren't supposed to do that (meanwhile, my six year old PC booted up like a champ). Projects I had started, half finished screenplays, notes, digital files, iTunes, my resume - gone. GONE.
My computer is my lifeline. I'm sure that's the way anyone without a TV, DVD player, stereo, or a home phone feels. I do all of that through my computer. And when I get it back, with its new heart, it won't have any memory of anything I've done. It will be entirely blank.
There's something strangely poetic about the computer crashing and losing everything on my birthday. I could cry, be upset, pout, be surly, or any other number of things but there's no point. It's vanished into a great electrical ether. No amount of teeth gnashing or breast beating is bringing it back. So I'm letting it go. I'm not holding on, remembering what I won't have, I'm feeling liberated by what won't be weighing me down.
It feels like a fortuitous way to start the year.
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