My computer lost its battle to stupid-computer-syndrome right around the time of my last post. I'm still battling the "hospital" bills (a.k.a. big ass bill that I never paid off). Everything that means something that I had on that computer - photos, notes, chapters, poetry, outlines - and anything else I'd ever written - is sitting on my best friend's, father's portable hard drive. He needs me to come over and sort through it. Burn everything onto cd's so I have it stored neatly away until I can purchase a new computer and fill it up again.
I can't bring myself to sort through it. It's kind of like grieving a lost loved one. I don't really want to take stock of everything that's been lost. And I'm sort of not up to sorting through everything left behind. So my life - essentially - sits there. In portable limbo.
And I say this after talking to my mom on my cell phone. Because I don't own a land line. Nope. All of my calls come with me everywhere. A portable connection to everything.
And as I'm sitting here in the computer lab, I'm listening to Nickelback on the ipod.
Music is a love of mine and here a love is...in portable beauty.
I start wondering if this theme could go deeper. I wonder if it should.