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#82: Uhm, Not Really


 

Last Friday, upon arriving home from dinner with friends at Ziggurat (Indian-Pakistani-Arabian-Turkish-African cuisine), I wrote a very lengthy account of what a day is like for Gucci Stardust. It took me an hour at least to be so detailed. You see, I've been getting some comments from people that it's not so easy to understand me... or that they're no longer sure if I'm still writing fiction or if something's already bothering (or smothering?) me in real life. To erase the ambiguity (I am, after all, a fan of clarity), I decided to make myself as crystal clear as possible. Mad typing, a couple of retouches and I was ready to publish a narrative which will give full insight into what usually goes on in my head as I go through my day.

PUBLISH POST. A command which prompted Blogger to eat it all up and burp it into thin air.

I wanted to scream like a banshee! But since it was already 2 a.m., that would have been obscene. I might as well just ask my neighbors to burn our house down. Thing is, there is no Autorecovery in Blogger. The little link at the upper lefthand side which says, "Recover Post" is a joke. A bad joke which could start the whole world crying, believe me. A couple of deep breaths and I was ready for my next step. Given that I was ready to write all those things about myself, I might as well go on with it and write everything again.

It was a little past 3 a.m. when I finished. Yes, it was that long. With pictures too! (Take note that I had to wake up that day at 4 a.m. to prepare for our Church Outing because the bus would leave at 6 a.m. without the sleepyheads.) But I told myself, "Forget sleep. There's no turning back now."

PUBLISH POST. AAAACCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!! Evil Blogger ate it again!!!! The cruel error message flashed once more and mocked me for being so stupid as to trade my much-needed rest for a tell-all no one really asked for.

All that it published was the picture of my bracelet. That is that and that is all. And now you'll never know the context in which I decided to paste that.

The post apparently wasn't meant to be. I guess what that means is that knowing me should never be easy. And the price of unlocking certain aspects of my personality, never free.

Take heart though. We all have 525,600 minutes a year in currency. That's definitely worth more than a thousand words and actually more than enough to get good leads to the Gucci mystery.