Getting a new piece of tech can be truly magical, but not without its myriad of frustrations. I wrote a draft for a blog post the other day, it really meant something to me. How do I know? Because it was something that I carried in my chest the last few days laboring over how to give birth to a new blog post musing the magic of words.
It was an awesome piece, I got to throw in some Shakespeare quotes (which I then bastardized) and contemplate the many wonderful literary and lyrical worlds I’ve been transported to thanks to the craft of stringing words together to make sentences/thoughts/lyrics/etc.
I thought I’d saved the draft (in fact I’m positive I did), but now I’m home from work looking all over my iPad and coming up with nothing. The piece is gone.
I know some of you are rolling your eyes thinking “It’s not a big deal, don’t pretend you’re Hemingway now.” But I’m hoping a fair amount of your understand the grief I’m in right now. That piece meant something to me; it was a love letter to words, one that I’ve been formulating for years now. My love for words knows of no boundaries or depths. Words are pieces of magic that, when carefully paired up, can create beauty or wreak destruction. Words are power, words matter.
I’m trying not to feel too upset. I suppose this post is almost like an obituary to my deceased post, honoring what I lost while also reveling in what I love. To make this simple end to a rather pointless post, I shall quote my favorite line of Shakespeare:
Words, Words, Words.
(Follow me on twitter @JoyPearson and tweet me the play I just quoted and you’ll win a prize [Spoiler alert: the prize is a high five {Spoiler Alert: I don’t like people so you’re not actually getting any prize}])
