not necessarily intended to be lyrics, they became lyrical
and rhymed even, some, a bit.
It was intense, the perfection of these words flowing
I thought it would change my life
and internal revolution
then this browser I had switched to last week bugged -Firefox (normally secondary)
I sent the report to developers, only even taking the time specifically because I was calm/confident in LJ's automatic draft-saving -which I had been noting, ensuring it was refreshing so my words were safe, and so I thought it felt good at that moment all of this error-checking, automatic securing of our important current status was working out, we would never lose anything. Then I came back, restored draft -empty text. Nothing. Now, in Opera, up to 12, and all the way up to whatever v4*.* editions we're at, when reopened from a crash will not only save our current state, but even if a tab automatically refreshed to a login screen on a secure site, per the site's request, basically always if we are on a private secure-enough station, our text would be refilled -by the browser itself. That extra security I would not expect from FF, but at least I had expectations LJ safely saved my drafts -as it then later continued to offer me repeatedly any time I would close the tab. Even tried going back to other browsers, same thing. I'm not sure if LJ's auto-drafting suffers an interoperability issue with FF. Add on the fact that FF crashed in the first place. And also now that I am on my up-until-recently primary browser of Opera due to an extremely fatal flaw in FF which would cause a reboot necessary for even most advanced users or admins, I think it's safe to say that these glitches, few as they are, are oogie enough to cast doubt upon my switching to FF. I'm just fed up of Opera, since abandoning 12, they've lost nearly all of the righteous & dynamic elegance previously graced to our demands for efficiency -after thorough customisations, of course. FF has few custom options, comparatively, to satiate my thirst for most-powerful-using still, but at least by default it was manageable enough. Reliable? no.
The fact remains: I lost that text which, whether worthy of public viewing or not, was what I considered my motivational masterpiece number one. The feeling disappeared with the words. I know they are within my brain, I see the shape of them interconnected, but they were coming from an area I normally have no control over. The words were my link for maintaining that region as useable. I could tell the general yada-yada gyst of where/what I had written then, yet the momentum, the tone, the rhythm was a key to me. To the part of me I knew, and know, that I've needed to connect my want to do things with an ability to -and to connect my past experiences with my present, simultaneously. When it comes to my own self, I suffer greatly from an inability to choose actions in the present, or near-present, based on my wisdom gleaned from past exposure to learning events. This is why I normally write down all of my inventions, ideas, and often thoughts, for I have no guarantee that the logic nor epiphany (lesser extent) will remain part of my toolset in dealing with my own life. For others, yes, I can access my history-entire, to a large degree, on the spot. Or soon after. With that historical data, joined-in with an analytical, sometimes empathical even processing, solutions are able to be deduced for most any conundrum. Serious, artistic, whimsical or on-the-spot as-needed emergency steps to be taken can all be had. Not for myself. And I had it, I believe that I had it, a (first) manifesto of my self. part love song, part logical story, part epitaph for the past -all educational, idiomic, rhythmic, clearly obvious and yet still ambiguous enough with many more applicable meanings --which is partly how I saw it being constructed as the intricate key necessary to hold open my brainmeats so as for me to benefit from them during this lifetime.
It's possible, somewhere on a server somewhere else, there are a few stray ones and zeroes where my precious auto-drafted text was digitised. just residing there, meaningless to anyone or anything else other than somewhat-virtual space, meta-matter, a love song that would unlock my life