a little backwords

i'm here in australia, near sydney, and to be honest i'm having a bit of a rough go of things. my brand new computer (purchased the day after thanksgiving) decided to kill its hard drive. i'm not too surprised though. the hard drive has never gotten along with the rest of the computer. i guess it was a little arrogant, thinking it could do all the computing itself. well, push came to shove and there was a bit of a civil war which left the hard drive completely dead.

with its untimely death, the hard drive took with it every bit of data i had. it is all, as the rotund gentlemen at the computer repair shop would tell me, unretrievable.

unretrievable.

this is a horrible word, outside of a few crazy exceptions (use your imagination). i've lost many pictures, some music and movie files i had on there. but worst of all, i lost all the stuff i have been writing the last couple weeks. they were all still in progress, but nearly finished and not backed up on anything. it is all disapressing (def. is somewhere in the archives).

thus, i have been trying to retrieve the articles and musings from my head. for the most part, they are unretrievable. i am starting over on a lot of them and trying to write some new stuff too. it is a bit of a pain.

i'm not a very fast writer when it comes to other people. when i get to be introspective and write about what i'm going through, it comes easily (typically). i feel added pressure when writing about other people, because i don't want to misrepresent them or, worse, not show their passion or their heart in it. being a journalist might not be a good fit for me. it makes me feel a bit backwords.

if you didn't know, the street traffic is reversed from america. cars come at me from the opposite side i'm used to. when i'm looking left, i should be looking right. when i'm looking right, i should be looking left. i fear that eventually, i'll be looking at the ceiling of a hospital.

it is unnatural for me. i continually have my head on a swivel in the attempts of not dying. this type of writing is a tiny bit like that. i feel like i'm looking the wrong way. and in the process of being confused, my words don't come out. eventually they will, i hope. but for now, i'm learning to look at things differently, to cross the street safely.