Taking the “hard” out of Hard Drive

Well, after a not so welcome break, both the blog and my computer are up and running. I must admit, however, that this week has been a hard one. My cellphone – remember the one that no longer rang? – finally bit the dust and I can’t quite figure out the new one. My friend, Rick, sent me a text message and I didn’t know it for 3 days. The new one is the color of eggplant.

Even though my computer is essentially the same, it has a new hard drive. I feel like I am spending time with an old friend that has dementia. Its memory is completely gone, so it feels the same, but it doesn’t relate the same and it fails to laugh when I tell it our old jokes. Everything I had on my old hard drive has vanished, like a history that happened but can’t be proved, not too mention there were quite a few things I was fond of. Like my book.

Yes, yes, I had saved it elsewhere (most of it), but it is difficult to let go of the original file. It somehow represents the moments of typing and thinking and tears that produced those thousands of words. I am planning on asking my agent to send the copy I sent to her recently back to me. It’s a clone, I know, but it will have to do.

There’s a strangeness that accompanies a clean slate. On one hand, there is excitement and possibility (with no evidence trail) but on the other hand, there is regret and loss. I have felt this awkward/ambivalent/mixed feeling many times, and it’s usually far stronger than I felt at my hard drive funeral, like when someone forgives me, or when leaving people I loved, or when taking a new path. I have discovered that it is a tension worth living into, even though it’s hard, because it often leads to a deeper place.

I can already see the perks of my recent loss. My files were SO disorganized, that I had trouble figuring myself out really. I have a brand new chance to make a mess again.

Hallelujah.