I know you won’t even believe this but – my iphone is eating my blog posts.
You think I’m lying. You think I’m lazy. And you would be right, I HAVE been feeling a little lazy, but I am admitting that but will not cop up to lying. It goes a little like this: you buy and iphone, thinking to yourself, YES now I will be the most attentive blog mistress and return all my emails on time, yadda yadda, and then you do a little app search, you know, in your spare time, and low and behold YES, wordpress, there is an app for that. Which then you download, thinking your life is going to be perfect from now on, BUT THEN, your sparkly new app EATS your carefully typed out posts, because lets admit it, it is IMPOSSIBLE to type on a iphone when you have NORMAL sized fingers.
Long story short, I have fat fingers and I carefully typed out not ONE but TWO posts that my iphone just simply ate! Like one minute its there in all of its TEN PARAGRAPH glory, and then its not. NOT.
So you take a deep breath, count to ten, and decided to postpone the temper tantrum – because we are twenty-four now and all and our girlfriend doesn’t have a ton of patience for iphone eating mishaps, and we just rewrite the post. Not word for word mind you, but I almost feel like it’s better the second time, concise, eloquent, better written if possible, AND THEN it disappears. AGAIN.
So, then I continue this little conversation with myself, rationalizing, this post was obviously just not meant to be. (I will also disclose that this post, while finally PERFECTLY crafted, was a touch on the personal/demented side, and maybe you are all happy that the universe spared you?) But all this pep-talking, universe rationalizing really took the gumption out of me. Hence: nothing. I just couldn’t rally. I have lost my mojo.
Except to recount this strange blip in graciebell’s* otherwise perfect existance.
(*for those of you who aren’t following my life play by play, graciebell is my phone, named after the baby in Friday Night Lights who no one really planned for and didn’t want, but once she arrives they realize babies are nice and cute and she is their daughter after all, so they might as well get used to her)
But I bet graciebell (the fictional child not the phone) never ate seven paragraphs of painstakingly entered data.
If you are still reading this, I FREAKING LOVE YOU, and I will leave you with this: it is a long, often strange, sometimes nice ride, and I am doing my best to remember to breathe deeply and remind myself that even when I feel like a failure, I already have everything that I need and it’s going to be ok.
