A few weeks ago, I mentioned a note I have on my iPod that contains about thirty ideas for posts; the note grew to fifty by yesterday and, as the title suggests, I accidentally deleted that note, losing about four month’s of saved ideas. And while I can remember a few of them, my new ‘Blog Ideas’ note on my iPod now just have five sentences on it; a second’s worth of incompetence has cut the ideas for this blog by 90%.
It happened as I was, perhaps ironically, writing a new idea in the note, an idea that I’ve now forgotten, and my thumb slipped and hit the trash bin button at the bottom of the screen. Then, instead of calmly pressing the ‘Cancel’ button when presented with the ‘Delete Note?’ screen, I panicked, fearing what would happen if I did lose the note and the information stored on it; it is perhaps ironic again, that in trying to scare myself into preserving the note by considering the consequences of deleting it, that my finger slipped again, and pressed what had now become the ‘compromise the long-term feasibility of posting every day’ button.
I tried to reason with myself, that my unusual lack of dexterity was down to the fact that I was in a history lesson, and so was operating in a covert, under-the-table sort of way to avoid detection by my teacher, but this just made everything worse: my teacher at the time is a very relaxed, friendly individual, whose opinion towards phones and iPods was to get involved with the games we were playing on them, as evidenced by their involvement in a game of Scrabble with a guy in my class a few weeks earlier.
So I lost all of my ideas in an attempt to hide from someone not looking for me. Well done there.
Perhaps this reflects our growing reliance on technology in general: a few years back, hackers brought the most sophisticated gaming system in the world, the Playstation, to its knees, and a few files saved on a device no more complicated than a USB stick belonging to one Edward Snowden undermined the most powerful and well-protected nation on Earth, a revelation that should have meant something, were it not for our society’s desensitisation to these sort of shenanigans as a result of the crappy films and video games we all waste our lives consuming.
Also, this reflects the importance that we place on ourselves, and my apparent love of myself: not only do it write on a website emblazoned with my full name, but I find it appropriate to lament my own personal failures on it, and in the name of what – a desire for pity, a pathetic attempt to entertain, a futile go at warning others to not be so neanderthal-fisted as I was?
So not only have I lost my ideas and my sense of security and calm regarding writing on here, but I’ve made myself feel like a scumbag in a world of morons with those last two ‘intelligent’ paragraphs; I had a Sleep Differential of minus thirteen when I went to bed last night, and now I feel sucky.