What I have found, though, after spending a sizable chunk of the past two days hunched over my keyboard sorting, forwarding, deleting, checking, filtering, figuring and reconfiguring, designing, and slapping my forehead, is that I didn't die the last time I had a computer crash and lost six years of email correspondence (what I had saved of it), and I'm not dying this time from not having instant access to the past six years of emails. In fact, I'm doing rather well with the web-based email I've had all along but didn't use via the web.
Sometimes things are just going to happen to show me how human I am.
It's good to be reminded of it, too. Keeps me humble. Not that there's much danger of me getting all puffy-headed or anything. On the flip side, I have plenty to be humble about.
I am rediscovering my love for writing. And I am rediscovering that I'm actually pretty good at it. I don't say that with any piety at all, especially when I look back at old Xanga entries and see how good I once was--back when I was writing more often and writing more deeply and writing more real-ly.
I miss writing like that.
