My computer goes into hibernation every 6-8 hours. (It's one of the two; not sure which.) The time that takes will momentarily register as the user being active, as if I had personally been there to bring the computer out of sleep mode, unlock it, and was around to do tasks and answer prompts. (Even though I am not.) Including...to the system prompt for a restart. (You can see where this is heading.) A timer that won't continue if the user asks for it to be delayed...yet will continue otherwise.
...Including during the hibernation itself. The timer doesn't pause for the minutes, hours, or potentially days that a computer can be left in hibernation. (Keep in mind it only needs ten minutes total to say, "Well, if you were gonna object to this, you would have done so by now!" And about half of that time is used up in the hibernation process anyway.) Meaning that by the time I woke up, ten hours after last using my computer, it was already too late. (What a pain.)
Ah, well. It's done now, at least. Still a massive inconvenience, though.
Anyway, I've got more to blog about. There was an article in reader's digest about "Alive Day". It really, really struck a chord with me. Why? Because while I never was on any battlefield...I have had a near-death experience before. It was in January of this year, even. I was in a car, driving at highway speeds--likely about 55 MPH, so while not terribly fast...fast enough that if you think 'auto accident' at that speed, you're not going to think of any positive results. (Keep in mind that other cars were likely going 65 as well, and you can get a better idea for why it was so dangerous.)
And yet, there I was. I lost control of my car and ended up crashed in the ditch. Every moment of that incident was burned into my mind. At first, it was traumatic. So much so, that I thought my memories of it were nothing but a blur. Yet a couple of weeks later, I realized what I was thinking. During those moments, above all other thoughts I was having, the thought in my mind most was, "Oh, God...(not some trivial prayer this time)...please don't let me die. (I mean it. I want to live. I don't want to die!) There's so much that I have to live for...please don't let me die before I have had the chance to discover who I am!"
And when I realized that, I realized how--whether you believe in God or not, and Him answering the prayer or not--what's undeniable is just how lucky I was. There are so many ways that day could have ended horribly, horribly differently than it did. This was an auto accident at highway speeds. I could have died in half a dozen ways. I could have swerved into the oncoming traffic rather than off the road to the right. Off the road to the right could have been a cliff--if not immediately, then within crash-rolling difference, plunging me into a river. (I had just passed a river, so it was possible.) Or if not a river-cliff, then a cliff for a road below, with the rather nasty drop I imagine being instantly lethal. (As with the river, I had only recently passed somewhere which had precisely that.) I could have crashed into something that brought my car to an abrupt halt when it was still going fast, violently bringing me to a stop. Heck, I could have rolled the car over, which itself has a low survival rate.
None of that happened. Instead, the swerve off the road robbed me of a lot of my momentum, and when it corrected again, robbed me of some more. Some baby trees I ran over triggered the airbags, but slowed the car down even more. The bumpy terrain made it a rough ride, yet kept my momentum gradually falling down. And the angle at which my car went off the road meant that I basically slid into a nearby bank--said bank is what finally brought my car to a stop, and was on the left side. While the door was angled upwards and the bank I was in was tight enough for it to be a concern, I was able to make a hasty exit from the car. And through this all...the worst I got from it was a bruised knee.
There are so many ways I could have died, yes. But...I didn't. I lived. And while I was initially traumatized by that event, wanting to move on with it, to forget it...now, I can never do that. Because it's the most important moment in my 21 years of life. That moment, even if it took me a couple of weeks to recognize the fact, is the moment that I figured out that I was trans. It has shaped my life since then, in so many ways that I don't think I can describe them all.
It renewed my drive and determination to succeed. Before the crash, I was wavering. After it, I knew precisely what I wanted in my life. It renewed my vow to live a happy life. Before the crash, I was struggling with depression. After the crash, I was euphoric for a solid month. And it helped me raise my awareness. Before the crash, I might have thought depression was something that I might have, but not something I'd be unable to handle by myself. After it, and with some research, I realized that if I was being perfectly honest with myself, I needed help for what was likely bipolar disorder, so of my own free volition, I sought said help, with aid from my mother. That moment, where I almost died, is my own personal Alive Day. Because on it, facing death, I learned what it'd be like to be alive. And now, every moment that I can, I think about that and seize the opportunity.
In some ways, there's no notable difference. My routine is actually almost identical to what it was before the crash. Yet in other ways, people have at times been blown away by the remarkable differences I've made in my life. Because while in some ways, I am the same person who likes doing the same stuff...in other ways, I was undeniably changed for life by that incident, and my entire outlook on life altered by proxy.
...Including during the hibernation itself. The timer doesn't pause for the minutes, hours, or potentially days that a computer can be left in hibernation. (Keep in mind it only needs ten minutes total to say, "Well, if you were gonna object to this, you would have done so by now!" And about half of that time is used up in the hibernation process anyway.) Meaning that by the time I woke up, ten hours after last using my computer, it was already too late. (What a pain.)
Ah, well. It's done now, at least. Still a massive inconvenience, though.
Anyway, I've got more to blog about. There was an article in reader's digest about "Alive Day". It really, really struck a chord with me. Why? Because while I never was on any battlefield...I have had a near-death experience before. It was in January of this year, even. I was in a car, driving at highway speeds--likely about 55 MPH, so while not terribly fast...fast enough that if you think 'auto accident' at that speed, you're not going to think of any positive results. (Keep in mind that other cars were likely going 65 as well, and you can get a better idea for why it was so dangerous.)
And yet, there I was. I lost control of my car and ended up crashed in the ditch. Every moment of that incident was burned into my mind. At first, it was traumatic. So much so, that I thought my memories of it were nothing but a blur. Yet a couple of weeks later, I realized what I was thinking. During those moments, above all other thoughts I was having, the thought in my mind most was, "Oh, God...(not some trivial prayer this time)...please don't let me die. (I mean it. I want to live. I don't want to die!) There's so much that I have to live for...please don't let me die before I have had the chance to discover who I am!"
And when I realized that, I realized how--whether you believe in God or not, and Him answering the prayer or not--what's undeniable is just how lucky I was. There are so many ways that day could have ended horribly, horribly differently than it did. This was an auto accident at highway speeds. I could have died in half a dozen ways. I could have swerved into the oncoming traffic rather than off the road to the right. Off the road to the right could have been a cliff--if not immediately, then within crash-rolling difference, plunging me into a river. (I had just passed a river, so it was possible.) Or if not a river-cliff, then a cliff for a road below, with the rather nasty drop I imagine being instantly lethal. (As with the river, I had only recently passed somewhere which had precisely that.) I could have crashed into something that brought my car to an abrupt halt when it was still going fast, violently bringing me to a stop. Heck, I could have rolled the car over, which itself has a low survival rate.
None of that happened. Instead, the swerve off the road robbed me of a lot of my momentum, and when it corrected again, robbed me of some more. Some baby trees I ran over triggered the airbags, but slowed the car down even more. The bumpy terrain made it a rough ride, yet kept my momentum gradually falling down. And the angle at which my car went off the road meant that I basically slid into a nearby bank--said bank is what finally brought my car to a stop, and was on the left side. While the door was angled upwards and the bank I was in was tight enough for it to be a concern, I was able to make a hasty exit from the car. And through this all...the worst I got from it was a bruised knee.
There are so many ways I could have died, yes. But...I didn't. I lived. And while I was initially traumatized by that event, wanting to move on with it, to forget it...now, I can never do that. Because it's the most important moment in my 21 years of life. That moment, even if it took me a couple of weeks to recognize the fact, is the moment that I figured out that I was trans. It has shaped my life since then, in so many ways that I don't think I can describe them all.
It renewed my drive and determination to succeed. Before the crash, I was wavering. After it, I knew precisely what I wanted in my life. It renewed my vow to live a happy life. Before the crash, I was struggling with depression. After the crash, I was euphoric for a solid month. And it helped me raise my awareness. Before the crash, I might have thought depression was something that I might have, but not something I'd be unable to handle by myself. After it, and with some research, I realized that if I was being perfectly honest with myself, I needed help for what was likely bipolar disorder, so of my own free volition, I sought said help, with aid from my mother. That moment, where I almost died, is my own personal Alive Day. Because on it, facing death, I learned what it'd be like to be alive. And now, every moment that I can, I think about that and seize the opportunity.
In some ways, there's no notable difference. My routine is actually almost identical to what it was before the crash. Yet in other ways, people have at times been blown away by the remarkable differences I've made in my life. Because while in some ways, I am the same person who likes doing the same stuff...in other ways, I was undeniably changed for life by that incident, and my entire outlook on life altered by proxy.
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