Suzi (k00kaburra) wrote,

It's just a bittersweet symphony...that's life.

If life is just a bittersweet symphony, just a combination of pleasure and pain, than this week was just the pain, to be sure. Pleasure will balance it out at some point, but for now we're in the midst of the angst and the agony and the carking cares. (That's in the thesaurus for pain...never heard the term before, but I like it. Carking cares. Carking cares.)
Anyway, so Friday sucked royally. Besides the general cloud of sadness that accompanies school these days, I came home and found out that while attempting to make backups, my dad managed to kill my computer. Really. It crashed. Naturally, if he'd left the damn thing along this never would've happened, but instead every file I have was wiped out except for the scattered few files uploaded to my website.
So he uses his old backups to restore files to my computer. Problem is these backups are from the beginning of June. So we're not talking a loss of a few days or a few weeks - we're talking my entire summer's work. That means several projects for school, three incomplete zines, countless graphic/image projects, e-mails, website URLs, mp3s, multiple story outlines, an unfinished play, translations from Prism Time and japanese songs, 30 pages of character background/analysis & two chapters of a fanfic, buttloads of research, scripts for my webcomic, business transaction records, zine orders, and everything else from a major timeframe of my life are gone in a flashing crash. I was so upset.
What's more, Dad is gone so he can't try to restore the files. I mean, there's got to be something he can do, right? I refuse to lose so much work for one stupid one-minute mistake. How dare he leave when he's just majorly screwed up my life!
You see, I cried over this. A lot. And then I realized what an awful person that makes me. I can't shed a drop when thousands of people are killed by terrorists but I can weep over a bunch of digital data, which theoretically isn't really gone because I can re-write everything, since it's still in my head. (There is no hell greater than writing what has already been written before, I swear. -_-)
After I finished beating myself up over the fact that I'm a terrible person who cares for machines and my work more than people, I went outside to shoot pigeons. The birds have been messing up my Corolla and my MR2, so I took my anger out on them. I was out for a hour, and hit three flying rats - only one fatally, but maybe the others will get killed by cats. I really don't like pigeons.

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