the oh so real sting of virtual loss: part II

i stare at my little black laptop, standing here, deciding. the cats are sleeping, traffic is moving along john st, the sun is coming thru the windows. i feel a breeze. i am weighing my options, my heart is heavy.

basically the only way to fix it is to return it to the factory settings. he broke the news to me with little fanfare. reset the computer. i think about the implications. in doing so i would lose all documents. everything would be wiped clean. there is no way to retrieve the files? no secret code or anything? no sorry, ma'am. this is breaking my heart a little, i tell him. not so much to elicit sympathy, but just to verbalize that a crater just landed in my chest and im feeling a little woozy from it. i was about to hang up, tell him thanks anyways, when he slips me this one last piece of hope. you should try this website, there are a lot of informed folks on there, you might be able to find something. i felt like, in that tv movie, where the girl gets pregnant by some unfortunate circumstance and wants an abortion but cant get one cuz it's illegal and it seems there is no hope until the doctor, taking pity and risking his own license, sneaks her a slip of paper with a name of a doctor 'who can help,' and she leaves quickly with tears in her eyes, hands clutching the tiny parchment that could very well be her salvation. ok, except that is way more dramatic than my situation. not to mention im not going to get pregnant and abortions are legal. regardless. i wrote the website down and followed the links. fingers crossed.

i bought this little black laptop like a month ago so i wouldn't have to lug my super expensive apple around town. it rules. i use it for my writing. for my ideas. my scripts. my slide shows. i was typing away on it at work the other day when i had the idea that maybe i should change it so it requires me to log on first. like a golden latch on a diary. i unclicked the log me on automatically box and chose a clever password. then i restarted the puppy. it asked me, ilvs, for my password. i enter it in. INVALID PASSWORD. uh, excuse me? i try again. and again. and again. . . something has gone terribly, terribly wrong.

apparently i am not the first to lock themselves out of their own computer. following posted email threads, there are others like me, frustrated, at wits end, driven to use ALL CAPS FOLLOWED BY !!!!!!!!!!! yes, i feel you. i follow a few links and it gets me to some how to hack your own computer page of directions. ah! there is hope. after much reading and rereading, i tentatively begin my reclamation process. i get past step one. success. i get to step two and hit a major hurdle. alas, my love for penguins does not transfer into linux code savviness. i give up for fear of fucking up my computer permanently.

so then i move to option 2: ask for human help. i email the nerdiest (read: he builds his own computers) friend i know. he also does not speak the linux, but is willing to help. next monday evening. today is friday (ok, saturday, but i wrote most of this friday) . i am biding my time.

last chance to back out. y. e... . s. i hit return for a second time and instantly burst into a short sob. the sting of loss. irretrievable loss. my shit is gone and there is no going back. my brief grief is quickly replaced by a the shallow high twenty minutes after my email s.o.s., im standing in my living room/office/foyay/really it's all one room cuz i live in a studio. i decide to hell with it and rip the bandaid off myself. i highlight RESTORE FACTORY SETTINGS, i hold my breath, i hit return. it prompts me to type in yes. one last chance to go back. i hesitate. y. e. . . fuck it, s. i instantly burst into a short sob. the sting of irretrievable loss. my work is done, my writing gone. there is no going back. my brief grief is quickly replaced by the shallow high of well, you did it. fully knowing that the full reprocutions of your actions will be felt more fully in the not so distant future. . .

moral of the story: when life gives you lemons, document the hell out of it. make backups. print out your final drafts. at the very least, share your ideas so that they exist in the safety of someone else's thoughts.