I Wrapped Myself in a Blanket

(Some of you may have read this one before as it's one of the stories that were accidentally deleted a few weeks back...if so, just bare with me, new material is on the horizon!)

Note: The following story is not a political piece in any way, shape or form. It's simply a reflection of emotions and thoughts I had after the 9/11 tragedy happened. Like many authors and creative beings, I dealt with it through writing.

It's not that I want to remember these bad times so badly... it's just that I think it's important to bring it back now and then so we don't forget the emotions and the unity and everything we experienced as a nation in the wake of 9/11. This is not a master piece. It's just a random blurb of emotions and thoughts.

"I wrapped myself in a blanket and woke up to a war zone."

It was late Monday night. I started yawning louder and louder and finally I brushed my teeth and went to bed. As always I wrapped my big soft comforter around me, fluffed my pillows and sunk my head into them. I snuggled up to my husband and closed my eyes, soon enough I was sound asleep. On the opposite end of the country, someone else was just getting out of bed as I tucked myself in. Performing her usual morning ritual, she made her morning coffee and read the morning newspaper before it was time to wake the kids and her husband and get them all out the door. As her kitchen started populating and coming alive, she watched as her kids fought over the last scoop of cocoa puffs, and her husband was on his cell phone while getting ready for the day's meetings. A car horn honked from outside and he looked at his watch and sprung from his chair. He normally carpooled to work with a couple of friends. They all worked in the same building, so it made sense. "My ride is here. I'm late,” he said."I'll be back late tonight, who knows how long these meetings will last." He gave his wife a quick kiss on his way out. She was standing on the doorstep, waving until the car had disappeared into the horizon, then she went inside to get the kids dressed and sent off to school.

In a hotel room not far away, a business man was packing his suitcases. His eyes softened as he picked up the bright red fire truck he had bought for his son, the stuffed animal he had picked out for his daughter and the diamond earrings he had gotten for his wife. Gently he caressed each gift and a smile spread across his face as his thoughts went home to them. Then he packed up the last items and zipped up his suitcase.

Two doors down from him, yet another hotel guest was busy packing their suitcases as well. He spoke on the phone in a foreign angry language. Sweat was breaking out on his forehead. He tried wiping it away with a restless arm, but new sweat kept pouring out. His hands shook violently as he packed his shaving kit and dropped it into his carry-on luggage. He was constantly looking at his watch. A sly smile spread across his dark face as he left the hotel room and flagged down a taxi. With his hand he patted the outside of his jacket to make sure the plane tickets were still there on his inner pockets. Boy, wouldn't it have been embarrassing to forget the tickets. "Master would be displeased with me," he mumbled. "But master will be pleased with me." His phone rang and his stomach turned. He felt like throwing up all of a sudden. His partners were already waiting for him. He waved at them as he entered the airport. They all looked at their watches. Nervously. But they were excited when they headed for the check-in line. They had a flight to catch.

I was sleeping. People were kissing goodbye before scattering in every direction. Some even scattered before they saw each other that day. Friends and families were saying their good-byes at the airport.

"Call me when you get there to let me know you're safe"

And I was peacefully asleep; unaware of how busy our country was in another time zone. I probably had a nice dream. I don't remember. All I remember was quiet. All I remember was the earth shattering sound of the telephone, cutting like a knife into my comfortable world of dreams and relaxation. From a distance I heard the answering machine pick up and I heard our friends’ voice.

"Oh my God!"

The seriousness and desperation in his voice slowly woke me up. I thought he was in trouble somehow. And he was. We all were. Vaguely I heard something about New York being on fire. I didn't understand what was happening. My husband grabbed the remote and flicked the TV on, just to see one of America's landmarks on fire. Still struggling to wake up, still struggling to understand what I was seeing there, I witnessed the second tower of the world trade center collapse like a row of dominos pieces. And there were people inside.

People.

People talking on the phones with their clients. People chatting with their fellow colleagues, discussing where to have lunch. People writing up reports while thinking of their wives and girlfriends, fondly remembering what a good time they had last night, making sweet love in the candle light after a nice dinner and perhaps wondering if he should buy her a rose bouquet on his way home from work. Or would she prefer chocolate instead? Fathers thinking about how they have to get out of work early tonight because they have to take their kids to soccer practice. People in meetings, discussing how to get as much money as possible out of their new clients, how to best please and suck up to someone to land that million dollar contract that's floating around and is up for grabs. Women! Some married, some single. Some wondering if he will call them back after last night's date, or if that was the first and last time they saw him. Tourists. Tourists who have been saving up for years to finally be able to visit the United States, enjoying a piece of the big apple before they move on to other destinations. And then. Nothing matters. They didn’t have lunch that day. He never made it home early for his kids’ soccer practice and at home sat his wife, who would never receive his roses. Everybody lost out on that million-dollar contract. She never received the phone call from the guy she was out with last night, or if she did, she wasn’t there anymore to pick up the phone. We were left with terrible grief and a billion thoughts whirling around in our minds.

I'm angry. I'm angry because someone is so heartless and so evil and such a big coward, that he sends other people to die for him, to kill thousands of people, to break up thousands of families. To break our hearts. I'm angry because he used other human lives as weapons; ingeniously he programmed them and sent them out to kill. These people, because of him, that is all they know. And they think they are doing something good, they think that killing thousands of people gets them in favor with God. And he himself sits in his cave without getting his hands dirty, mastering his puppets. Because it's a puppet show. They are nothing but puppets. He is the master. They are his puppets. He pulls the strings. And they dance. I'm scared. I'm scared because someone with great intelligence, a great sense of perfection and coordination, was able to plan this and execute this, without anyone knowing about it. They all kept quiet. Yes, hints were dropped. But who would take it seriously. And if anyone took it seriously, who would've known. Just who … apart from the puppet master … would know. Not even the puppets knew. They were nothing but cold steel weapons in the hands of an assassin. And it scares me, because what if he has other tricks like these up his sleeve. No matter how prepared we could have been, can we ever be prepared enough? Is it possible? I feel privileged. I feel privileged because I still wake up every morning next to the person I love with all my heart. I feel privileged because I can still tell him every night and every day how much I love him. I feel privileged because I have friends around me, who I can talk to, who I can hang with, and we comfort each other. I feel privileged because every morning I wake up and my dog is there, wagging her tail, just happy to see me. She has nothing but good in her heart, she doesn't know evil the way we do. She just wants to love us. And that's a privilege. To be loved. I'm proud. I’m proud of the way everyone is handling this catastrophe. I’m proud of how fast planes were grounded and how they probably prevented this disaster from growing even bigger. I'm extremely proud of our firefighters, police men and emergency crews. How they faithfully work day and night to find survivors and bodies. How they see horrible things in this line of duty that will haunt them for years to come, yet they keep digging. Faithfully. Hopefully. I can't begin to imagine what their nightmares are going to be for the rest of their lives and I pray that people will never forget to support them and listen to them for the rest of their lives, to help ease the pain. I bow my head in respect. I'm very proud of the President of the United States. The pain he must be feeling inside is as great, if not greater than each and every one of us. Yet he stands strong and firm on his podium, leading the nation through this crisis with a firm and strong hand, while planning on how to respond, seeking to please and seeking to revenge. Yet he too is nothing but a man, flesh and blood, with feelings and emotions like the rest of us. I'm proud of news reporters. They are working day and night, bringing the nation together from east to west, so we are all able to unite somehow, and mourn together. They work 24/7 to bring us the latest, to make sure we know what is going on. They bring us all the emotions and they reassure us that we are all a part of a big and strong unity. I feel helpless. There is so much I want to do. I want to take each and every one of the victims in my arms. I want to hug them, comfort them, make sure they know that they have support from the entire world. Yet no words can ease their pain, no words can bring back their loved ones. This empty hole they have inside of them will be a part of them from now on. Maybe it will fill up little by little, but it will never fully close. I see the pictures on TV, I see people crying and asking for information on their loved ones. And all I can do is bow my head and cry with them. I feel guilty. I feel guilty because I'm thinking about myself and mundane situations that I need to take care of, when there's families that have been torn apart for no reason. I feel guilty for thinking about the WebPages that I need to get done, what is a webpage, what is a business, its nothing but cold money. I feel bad for being upset over the fact that my parents aren't gonna make it out here to visit me, yet so many people aren't ever going to see their parents again. Or their kids. Their husbands, their wives, their brothers and sisters and friends. And there's sadness. There's tears threatening to break through every moment I hear the national anthem, every time I hear a memorial song or see another picture of another victim.

I just want to wrap up in my blanket and go to sleep again, just to wake up to a normal Tuesday. But the giant empty hole in the Manhattan skyline is a constant reminder. If I wrap myself in the blanket and go to sleep, I will still wake up to this horrifying sight that has been haunting us for days. The world will never be the same. God bless America.

© Laila Roknian 2001 - no permission is granted for reproduction in any manner

New blog

I started another blog, specifically about big rigs.

Odd? Perhaps. But that’s me.

So if I’m not here… I’m probably over there :-)

http://18wheelbeauties.blogspot.com/

11 Years and 1 Day!

11 years ago today, I woke up and I realized that I had abandoned single life. The previous evening, in the romantic chapel at the Flamingo Hilton in Las Vegas, I had stepped in to the world of marriage with a man that I had met only a month and a half ago, although I had known him for almost 3 years.

I met my husband via a chat program called IRC. I was in college at the time, and I used IRC to stay in touch with friends from home. I frequented a chat room called #Norway and so did he. Initially I was happy to chat with him because he was American. A few years back, I had spent a year as an exchange student in Seattle and had fallen in love with all things American.
(Seriously….no matter what you think or how many of you want to move to Canada every time there are some challenges to overcome here in the US, we really are living in the greatest country in the world…)

It probably doesn’t sound very romantic when I say that we fell in love due to American politics. I had a class in college on American politics and I was writing a paper on political campaign ads. I found my best resources for this paper to be the Americans themselves, so I consulted the ones I knew, including him. We started discussing other aspects of American politics, and I realized that the teacher I had was leaning towards a certain end of the political spectrum and our education in politics has been very one-sided.

Of course, it wasn’t the American politics subject itself that drew us closer together. It was more the fact that we were able to discuss a topic like politics with each other on an intelligent level. I had already concluded from my experience with past relationships, that if I were to enter a lasting relationship, it had to be with someone who was of the same or higher intellect as myself otherwise I’d get bored.

American politics eventually led to discussing other topics, topics which gradually became more intimate until there was no denying that we were more than friends.
After awhile we started planning for me to come out here once I was done with college, and on January 15th 1998, I landed on American soil. Once we met in person, there was really no question that this was it for us.
February 14th that year I accepted his proposal and February 23rd we eloped to Las Vegas and got married. This wedding was to be followed by 2 more weddings later that year; one in Norway for my Norwegian family and friends and one official wedding in California for his family and friends.

A lot of people ask us how we did it. How did we manage to find the right person via chat and how have we managed to stay so happy for 11 years. I think our answer, to put it bluntly, is “No Bullshit!”
It’s easy to pretend that you are somebody else when you chat with people online. You can make yourself prettier, smarter and seemingly more perfect because chances are you’ll never meet the person. That was never the case with us. We were always up front about who we were, we would even openly discuss bad habits and traits that we possessed.
A great thing about chatting “monitor to monitor” is that you cover topics that it’ll take years for some people to approach if they are talking face to face. Since we were honest & upfront about who we were – aka no bullshit – we knew each other inside and out by the time we met. Also, we never even exchanged photos until we had been chatting for at least a year or so, simply because we didn’t really care what the other person looked like. We fell in love with each other’s minds & personalities, by the time we exchanged photos, there was very little that could have scared us off.

We’ve continued practicing the “no bullshit” routine in real life. We are who we are. First of all, there was no bullshit to uncover once we met. Everything about me was what I had told him already and vice versa. There were no ugly surprises. There were surprises, but they’ve all been positive :) Another big thing in our relationship is communication. There are no secrets (except for the nice ones, like Christmas presents….hee hee….). And I guess the most important thing is, there is so much more to our relationship than just love.

I’m not a believer in love at first sight. I believe in attraction at first sight. I also believe in the possibility of love at first sight. But to truly fall in love with a person, you have to know that person first and then you decide whether or not you can love him, bad qualities and all. That instant puppy love we feel when we fall in love, it will eventually fade away some. In its place is another form of love, a love that will help us overcome the obstacles we’ll encounter throughout our relationship.

Love is important, but it shouldn’t be the only thing a relationship is based on. Included in a relationship there should be a certain level of commonalities, there should be friendship, there should be and understanding that we’re not perfect. Life has its ups and its downs, but as long as all the things you love about a person exceeds this person’s bad habits, we’ll be OK.

A perfect romance is what happens on big screens and in Harlequin romance novels. The rest of us have to work at a relationship to make it perfect. When the priest says “for better or for worse”, it really means exactly that. But I guess the point is that the relationship you have with the person you marry needs to be important enough to make you want to stay and fight when things get “worse”.

So… no secrets. Just be yourself. That’s all you can be and when you meet that special someone, that’s all he will want you to be as well.

No bullshit.

5 reasons why I love big rigs...

.... apart from the obvious parallel to a strong and virile man pulling a cart full of bricks, his muscles bulging and a sheen of sweat covering his lean body as he faithfully pulls the bricks along towards their destination. Yummy. Yes?

Those that are observant will notice only 2 types of trucks in these photos... simply my favorites...

The above pictures were found on the web, I will have to take my own camera for a spin for some photos of my own :-)

Bret Michaels

A couple of months ago, I completely revamped my iPod. I wiped it clean of all the music I had loaded on to it. Every song I no longer wished to listen to were left behind on my computer and I loaded all the songs I still hadn’t grown tired off on to my iPod, along with some new music. Once I took a glance at my new iPod, I realized how much my taste in music actually said about who I was and who I had become.

I’m going to dedicate this blog to my relationship with Bret Michaels. It’s a relationship that exists only in my head, and one that he most likely wouldn’t be very interested in, seeing as it would only involve talking.

To quote him from one of his songs: “I am good at one thing and believe me it ain’t talk!” (from “Look but You Can’t Touch”)

Growing up, my taste in music was pretty much influenced by three things: My parents, my peers and the radio.

In my family, my dad was mainly the one listening to music, so I grew up listening to his country music. I’d say my parents’ taste in music accounted for a 50% influence on my own taste in music.
As I grew older, my peers’ taste in music became a factor. I think however, that when I analyze the way I was back then, my peers’ taste in music only accounted for about 20% of my musical influence. Sure I may have pretended to like their music so I wouldn’t seem like such a country-music loving geek. I was a teenager after all and had no desire to stand out. I did enjoy a lot of that music though (hey I grew up in the 80s…what’s not to like...) but at the end of the day, when it came time for me and me alone to pick a tape to listen to (this was before CDs), I went back to country.
A third factor that I guess by logical math would account for about 30% of my taste in music would be the radio. The top hits, whatever was played over and over and over again on the radio, stuck to the brain until you couldn’t stop yourself from whistling these tunes or singing them in the shower because you just couldn’t clear them from your memory.
These songs were the very same ones that were played at school dances and fun functions I attended as a teen, so naturally a lot of fond (and some not so fond) memories became linked with the tunes so I cherish these songs for many reasons.

11 years ago, I moved from Norway to the United States and it opened up a whole new array of bands and musical talents that I had never listened to, or even heard of. Until then, I was familiar with the most popular hit songs which had made their way across the pond and had been played on the Norwegian radio, but there was a lot of music that never made it that far.
Luckily for me, I discovered that it is never too late to catch up.

My first real insight into the world of Bret Michaels happened when he appeared on Nashville Star as a judge one season. As a fan of country music, the world of rock was fairly unexplored by me, so Bret Michaels had a clean slate with me. I knew very little about him, about his “bad boy” past or about his being as a whole, but by the end of the season, I had become thoroughly fascinated by the man. Despite knowing nothing about him, I learned a lot just by listening to his comments & watching his general appearance on the show. From stories I’ve heard and articles I’ve read after the fact, I know that I got a fairly accurate perception of him.
One of the qualities that really made me like him was his uncanny ability to just be himself! It doesn’t seem like this is something that should require a lot of effort, but the truth is, it’s a quality that is sorely lacking in a lot of people. Bret stood out because he had this attitude of “Hey, this is who I am, take it or leave it.” Well, I took it.
During the course of the show, he also performed a few of his songs and I really liked what I heard. He wasn’t performing as Poison that time, he was singing songs from his solo albums.

Well, the show ended and Bret & I parted ways for a while. I had gotten to know him and I liked him but musically, I was still stuck in the past.

Then I discovered this addicting game called “Guitar Hero III” and I immediately fell in love with the song “Talk Dirty to Me”, even before I realized who was behind that song. Once I found out it was a Poison song, it was as if everything came full circle and I was hooked, not just on the song, but to Poison and to Bret Michaels. I started rifling through my husband’s CD collection to retrieve his old Poison CDs, and I quickly became a Poison addict, constantly craving more and more of their songs until I was in possession of them all. (I’m sure there may be some out there that I haven’t heard….)
Of course, I was already familiar with the biggest Poison hits, such as “Every Rose Has Its Thorn” and “Something to Believe In” because they did make it across the pond, but as I started listening to more of Poison’s albums, I discovered all these musical gems that had never been recorded on a “Greatest Hits” album. Most of these songs were written by Bret Michaels, some in cooperation with the rest of the band members.

As I started wandering through the world of rock, I discovered other great bands along the way, such as Motley Crue and Skid Row. Although their songs were catchy and really good, I found myself getting bored with their songs after listening to them a few times. To me, they lacked a depth and a lyrical diversity that I seemed to have found in Poison’s music. (I'm sure some people will disagree with me, and I would expect nothing else... Music is like tattoos, they mean something different to every single person.)

And yes, I know there are some tunes in the Poison discography that aren’t that great, but the blunders are few, the diamonds are many.
(Note: I’ve had the same Poison CD on “shuffle” in my car stereo for over a year now… It doesn’t get old.)

Once I had familiarized myself with Poison, I started delving into Bret’s solo work and found it to be just as good as his Poison work, maybe better. The man’s still got it, not just physically (because let’s face it, he’s sexy as hell), but also as an artist.
I find that Bret is a true bard in a modern sense of the word. He is a word smith, a lyricist and a musician and his solo songs are amazing. It seems like his current songs are more a part of him, they are more personal and it gives a greater insight as to who he is as an individual, where he came from and who his musical influences have been.

A couple of his songs brings up his bout with diabetes. Bret was just a child when they found out about his disease, and I can’t even imagine how heartbreaking and difficult and depressing that must have been. I knew a couple of kids from my childhood who had diabetes and it was no picnic for them (literally…). Back then, the only sugar free soda was Tab (Come on, all at once: Ewwwwwwww!) and sugar free cakes & candy were non-existent. Well, that’s not true. They had a couple of sugar free treats that tasted just as good as that pink-labeled black-colored watery drink they named Tab. For birthday parties and picnics, these kids could pretty much just sit and watch everyone stuff themselves with cake and soda. That has to be so tough on a kid. (Heck most adults would find that difficult….).

During this entire time though, throughout sex, drugs & rock’n roll, Bret has somehow managed to keep himself healthy & keep the disease at bay. Who knows, the diabetes may have been a factor as to why he’s still such a great artist and so talented, because no matter what he has done throughout his career as a rocker, the disease may have been lingering vaguely in the back of his mind throughout the journey.

However, as I said before, what I do admire the most about Bret Michaels is his bluntness and his ability to just be himself. He has no qualms about airing his dirty laundry for everyone to see. I remember this one article from an interview with a “Rock of Love” reject where they gossiped that his long hair is not his, they are hair extensions. Bret’s response was simply “Yes they are, I get the finest European hair that money can buy!” I just loved it. I mean…who cares? If I earned millions of dollars, I’d probably get the finest extensions money could buy too. And as for Bret’s bad-boy past, sure I know about it, I know it’s real but heck, he has never denied it. There are people out there who have done far worse things in life and who sit high and mighty upon their pedestals, their images are squeaky clean but their souls are not.

Despite being a Bret Michaels fan, I’m not a fan of “Rock of Love”. I’ve watched a couple of episodes, but it’s not my thing.
From what I can tell, “Rock of Love” has served as an advertising campaign for Bret Michaels. He has been able promote himself as a solo artist, so that people will look at him and think “Bret” instead of looking at him and thinking “Poison”. As far as I can tell, he has pulled this off. It’s a really brilliant business plan and Bret is an amazing salesman. And contrary to what he stated in the song I quoted above, I believe that he must be very good at talking because otherwise he wouldn’t have made is this far in his career.

So…

Gone from my iPod are all my country songs. (Well, I take that back. Bret has a few country songs that are very good, and they are still on there.) It’s kind of sad. It is as if I’ve said goodbye to a part of me that has kept me company most of my life. But then again, while the songs are gone, the memories are still there and they always will be.
I’ve just moved on is all. It feels as if I’ve finally found myself and the music taste I’ve developed is one that I have developed on my own, without caring about anybody’s input or influence.
The music I publically say that I love and the music I play when I’m on my own is finally the one and the same! That must be a good sign?

As far as Bret Michaels goes, I’m probably the only woman in the world who, if stranded on a deserted island with Bret, would spend the time talking with him. (I think I can hear him praying out loud right now….). Perhaps someday, I will write a biography.

Maybe someday, I too can find the courage to be myself. Perhaps the next time I waver between being true to who I am and being someone who other people want me to be, I should simply ask myself….


WWBD?

All photos in this blog was taken by me during a Poison concert
at the Universal Amphitheater in LA.

All I can say is.... Bret's still got IT! (They rocked!!)

To Error is to Learn....

I play the tuba. I’ve played the tuba since I was 13 years old and I’ve been in band for just as long. In Norway, playing in band is a much bigger hobby than it is here in the US. I’m not talking about rock bands, I’m talking about concert/marching/brass bands. In every city across Norway, there is at least 1 such band (usually more if you count the junior bands, school bands etc), and in the larger cities you find multiple adult bands as well as the ones for younger musicians.

People who aren’t familiar with bands tend to think that we only play once a year, which is on May 17th. May 17th is Norway’s equivalent of July 4th, all the marching bands play in parades across the country, big parades, small parades, it’s really a sight to be seen.
We do, however, perform a lot more than once a year. In between Christmas concerts and May 17th parades, a large portion of our time goes to rehearse and compete in regional as well as national band competitions. The big competition is the Norwegian Championship, where stakes are high, our nerves are on edge and we’ve practiced our pieces so much, we basically know them by heart.

I’m bringing up my background in band because after my accidental deletion of my blogs yesterday, I have been reminded of a very clever statement that one of my music conductors once told us prior to a competition.
It’s a statement I’ve carried with me ever since and that has been useful in so many situations, not only in music, but in life.
He said something along these lines:
“If you play a wrong note or make a mistake, don’t dwell on it! The mistake has already been made, it can’t be fixed, just think forward and concentrate on playing the rest of the piece.”

And he is right. What can you do? You can’t go back in time and fix it. And if your mind is stuck on that error you made, then the rest of your performance will also be a disaster. Instead of beating yourself up over the mistake you made, try learning from it.
You won’t move forward if you keep looking back.

Let’s say you’re visiting a friend who lives in an area you are unfamiliar with.
You miss the freeway exit that leads to your friend’s place. If you keep staring back at the freeway ramp you were supposed to be exiting, thinking of nothing but how you missed your exit, you will most likely end up in a car accident because you are unfocused and not looking ahead. Most likely, you will also pass the following freeway exit and maybe even the one after it, constantly moving further away from your intended destination and making things a lot worse than they could have been.

Instead of this chaos, you could stop thinking about the exit that has already passed and start looking ahead to the next one. In the process, you will familiarize yourself with a new geographical area that reaches beyond your intended destination. If this is the first time you’ve ever missed a freeway exit, it most likely will not be your last, so you are now learning how to handle that situation should it arise in the future. Once you focus forward, several possibilities to remedy the situation will appear before you. Will you drive on to the freeway leading in the opposite direction to catch the right exit? Will you try to parallel the freeway through side streets to find your way back? Either way, your mistake can be nothing but beneficial to you and in the end, I’m sure you’ll still manage to find your friend’s house. (Also, you’ll probably never miss that exit again!)

Over the past 24 hours or so, I’ve remembered several great blogs that I wrote & that were lost due to yesterday’s moment of blondness (I can say that, because I’m actually blonde….lol)
When I think of these posts, I groan and sigh and tear my hair out for awhile. But why do I go back there? It’s done! I’m in this situation right now, there’s no going back.
Can I rewrite the blogs that I remember the topic of? Sure! And who knows, they may even turn out better the second time around. And many of those blogs may not be worth rewriting, in which case they probably not have been posted in the first place.

When all is said and done, I blog because I love to write. Now I’ve created an opportunity for myself to start from scratch. That may not be a bad thing.

So why do I bring up freeway exits, band competitions and clever words of wisdom? I needed to attach a positive connotation to blogging, as opposed to the negative one that was currently overshadowing everything else. Several times today I’ve been staring at a blank page with a blank mind because all I could think of when the word “blog” came to mind was all the blogs that are gone and that’s not the way I wanted to proceed.

Now I’m back on the fabled horse. It’ll probably try to buck me off again, but the fall should be a lot softer next time.

And although I’ve vowed not to look back, there’s one back I definitely should be focusing on moving forward… and that would be the backup.

(Cheezy? I thought so…. ;-) )

F*****CK!!!

As you can see, my last 7 posts are dated 2/18/09… It didn’t always use to be that way.
Also, as you can see, there are no posts dated prior to this date... Again, it didn’t always use to be that way.

I mean, can’t you even get a popup that says something like “Are you sure you want to delete ALL (I repeat…ALL!!) your posts?” before they’re gone for real? I’m really frustrated right now.

I went to delete a label. A freakin’, stupid, insignificant to most, label.
And oh boy did I do a thorough job.

I clicked “check all” posts because I was removing this label from all my posts, and then I clicked “delete”, thinking it would delete the label. Wrong! Well, actually, that was correct…the label IS indeed gone…. Along with every blog I ever posted.

Luckily, my “Back” button still worked and the cache still showed my last 7 posts or so, so I was able to copy those over into a word document and repost them all. However, this blog used to be a lot longer than 7 posts :(

I’m so mad at myself right now and very frustrated, but what can I do. They’re all lost & gone forever. All I can do is create new ones and never touch that delete button ever again.
If I stick a stupid label on something, then by George, it gets to stay there!!!

No more lip gloss for today.