Very, very, VERY mad.
Seriously ticked off, mad.
I spend a whole hour, at minimum.
ONE. WHOLE. HOUR.
Typing up a beautiful blog post.
It was magnificent.
It was finished!
All it needed was a title!
I thought I had even copy-pasted it as a precaution!
But apparently, that didn't take.
And you know what happened?
Weebly, while I was in the blog post editor, decided, for SOME reason, "oh, your session is expired, let's throw out what you're doing and force you to log in again, it couldn't have been that important now could it?"
It's not like I poured out significant time into it or anything.
I. WAS. LITERALLY. SECONDS. SECONDS. SECONDS. S E C O N D S! FROM. POSTING. MY. ENTRY.
Not, "oh, let's make this one change here and there".
And it's all gone.
All of it.
THAT TOOK TIME TO WRITE.
It was well-written.
It had a nice flow to it.
I emptied the details from my brain, fully confident that, now in text, I wouldn't need them up here. I dumped it all in there.
Nothing like this.
Has ever happened before.
So how was I to expect complete and total disaster?
I'm just...not in the mood for continuing right now.
I know. That's kind-of selfish. I'll have to retell the detail about my mouth. (In hindsight, that part was a little bit squicky to be without a trigger warning anyway, so next time I'll make sure I have one.) I'll have to retell the details of the Rubyverse one by one. Things covered in my now-lost second entry. I'll have to save the third for another time.
I should be restarting while the knowledge is fresh. About the registration, about the draft, about villains, about superheroes in war, about black ops, about medics, about the loophole abuse, about it all.
The mood is gone.
Right now, there's a war in my mind. Apathy on one part. Rage in another. Desire to continue anyway and let this blog be a segue into it as yet one more. Sadness also is there. All in all, there's that heavy siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.
Part of me wants to call me a quitter for this.
That same part says I'm giving up.
Maybe it's right.
But...while there's a large part of me that doesn't want to give up...
...There's another part of me that does.
And...I just don't think I can redo it all right now.
I could, in theory.
I can force my muse to make it, overcome all the (correct) assertions that what I'd write would be a pale imitation to the lost original.
But...I don't think I'd be able to succeed, and even if I could.
I just...don't want to.
I need a break from blogging, to do...something...something else, not this.
Because this frustration, it's just...AHG.
That moment when the very thing you were doing for comfort becomes a source of pain?
That moment when the thing meant as a stress relief is now causing extreme amounts of it, along with the following anger?
That's this moment, right now.