Yesterday I briefly mentioned that there was a topic I wanted to write about that day, but instead I got sidetracked by my worry over it possibly being a repeat and my interest in writing about my whole writing process. That topic was supposed to moved to today, but as it turns out blogging, like life, is never so simple.
I got home from work today, doing all my post-work rituals: put used socks/work shirt in laundry thing, turn on computer, have a snack while watching some YouTube video. Unfortunately, as I sat down to enjoy a burger, all I saw on my computer was a message and a prompt:
"Windows was unable to start up. Would you like to select a system restore point?"
I opted not to restore and instead waited for perhaps ten or fifteen minutes as my computer attempted to repair what was wrong with my computer. Ultimately the repair failed to find a way to repair what was wrong, but it turned out that nothing was wrong and my computer started up normally anyway.
I am no computer expert despite the fact that I built my computer. (Essentially it was like any final or mid-term; cram cram cram, and then the knowledge mysteriously vanishes.) So as I was watching the repair bar and eating my food, I was mostly bothered at first and a little anxious to get on and write this blog.
I thought about that attitude for a little bit after I caught myself in that mindset. What if my computer really was busted and I would have to get it repaired? What if I needed to buy new parts or, worse, a new computer entirely? While the worst-case scenario was highly unlikely, the idea that something was actually wrong never really occurred to me and I was treating it like a minor annoyance.
I then remembered back when I was a kid. maybe middle school, when my mom got really, really. And I mean sick. Hospital sick. "She-actually-could-have-died" sick. "She-needs-to-undergo-brain-surgery" sick. In retrospect it was a really, really scary time.
I also remember being yelled at for playing around too loudly at home with my cousins by my step-father, who chided me for not realizing how serious my mom's condition was. Thinking back on all of this now, this memory in part further solidifies my view on my step-father, but mostly makes me wonder about how I cope with bad news. It's good to take some things in stride but it's also important to realize the gravity of any given situation.
What if my mom... I don't want to get into that. Not even in writing. Screw that.
Pulling this post back a bit, I'm going to work on how I deal with things. Little by little.
Eric
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