Fuck you WordPress.
So I spent time in my evening avoiding company to write my blog. I sat alone for a bit and got half of it down. I didn’t want to be in a place where it was half one and all I wanted to do was sleep and I still had to put down everything. I didn’t want to be lying on my back with tingling legs magicking 500 words from my bum with one open eye, desperate to sleep.
WordPress usually saves progress. Particularly when you’re connected to data. It’s usually a safe platform to compose on. Not today somehow. I tried to upload a picture of a cat. It failed somehow. The whole page crashed. I tried to copy the text. It failed too. I have nothing in my clipboard. I just lost a whole blog. All I want to do is go to sleep. 500 words first. Fuck.
I did my scene 20 times today. Matinee and evening. Different every time of course. Satisfying and playful. The director was in with her family and she liked it. I read a few people’s tarot between shows and then did it all again. I literally can’t be bothered to tell stories right now. I did that the first time I blogged. I can’t even remember the stories.
I’m here, horizontal with my right eye closed, craving sleep, wondering what the actual fuck is going on with WordPress and hoping somehow that whatever I pull out of my exhausted mind this time will be enough and that I won’t have to write a third blog today. How the fuck did they lose my first one so completely? I literally hit copy but there was nothing in the clipboard.
I pay actual money to host this shit without adverts etc. Fuck technology, making me write in this state, despite making it possible to write in this state. I think it might be a Samsung update thing. It might be the technology moving me along. Apple invented multitouch, and made it impossible for anyone using an iPad as a writing device to write freely without accidentally highlighting and deleting random portions of text. I used to blog by iPad always. Apple must’ve decided they don’t want to be a writing device.
Maybe my Samsung is doing something similarly shitclever that’ll make blogging harder, like Apple did a couple of years ago, invalidating iPad as a writing device for me and likely millions of people who type fast like me. (It used to be brilliant.)
Anyway. Hi. My day. I’m supposed to write shit. I did lots of acting. Then I went to the pub. Then the tingling legs thing happened. Ow.
I walked home through the dark park. I took a short cut. I waded through plants in my shorts. “They’re wet,” I thought as I had sensation in my legs. “Oh wait. No that’s not wet, that’s burn. I’m wading through tall stinging nettles in my shorts.” I got through the nettles. There was a river on the other side that I couldn’t cross. To get home I ended up having to go back out through the nettles and find another route. Stingy legs at least help me remember I’m alive.
My lower legs are in a constant tingle, my eyes want to close, I’m angry because it’s incomprehensible how my original blog vanished, and I’m exhausted. On the plus side, I therapeutically lay on a path and petted a cat who reminded me way too much of Pickle. Ow. Goodnight. Ow.