I'm sick to my stomach with pain and nervousness.

I plugged like a 12 voltage plug into my 3volt external harddrive three weeks ago. I had everything on there. And pretty much none of it anywhere else. I mean, I remembered that all the old, old stuff is still on cds. Like old photos and all of my music. Fuck my music. Why did I do my music first, when I should have fucking done my photos that mean - meant, so much more to me.

I was fucking shopping online for Christmas presents for Joe and Amelia. Shopping for a dragon and a sword statue for Joe, which led me to dragon posters, which led me to horse posters, which led me to the horse panoramics I wanted to buy Amelia. Which led me to recall a panoramic I did of the Hudson one time while I was at the park with Isis. Which led me to remember that this panoramic was lost on my harddrive, as well as those cute pics of Isis, as well as the ones of her in the fucking green dress looking so damn precious...

As well as the ones of her and my panda in the Chinese dress which I was so extremely proud of.

And I just want to stop thinking. I have to fucking stop thinking of all the things I lost. I had blocked it out these past few weeks, not allowing myself to remember what I'd lost. And in a wave it's all coming back to me and it fucking hurts. It's heartbreak. If it had been pics of myself, I would have very much regretted losing them. But I would have been able to let it go because it's all ego. I know this. I know that photos of myself are borderline narcissism and pride. I can't feel regret over losing that.

And now that I think about it, the Isis things are still ego. Because ego cares about the superficial, it cares about the preciousness, the years, the sentimentality, the memories. It cares about the things that are transitory, that are and should be washed away with time. But we've devised ways to capture those transitory things, pause moments in time and store them in a technological hoard.

But it still fucking feels like heartbreak to lose that preciousness of my Isis. It still fucking hurts.

Did I lose all of my school documents too? At least I have printed copies of most of them... Perhaps not the old school documents.

I don't know. I'm afraid to look. I'm afraid to check my cds and realize what I lost. It kills me.

The only thing that makes me feel a smidgon better is that 1 - I did this to myself. Subconsciously, probably for the better, I did this to myself. I was the one who walked right into the mistake. It was so fucking perfect. My dad suggested I find a plug for my external harddrive, I asked my mom if she had plugs, she had the box already out, searching for the fountain's plug. I looked through the box, none of them worked, I found a variant of sizes - just the heads of the plugs. One fit, but I needed to attach it to a cord. I asked Amelia what to do and she gave me the cord for the portable dvd player. I lost the original cord in the move and Amelia bought a new one which allows you to remove the head and plug in a different head. Why they set us up for disaster, I'll never know.

Everything fell into place. I was glad about it at the time, but everything fell into place for disaster, instead of pleasure. Music? I would have been crushed. So much music lost, how could I remember all that I had? But music has replacements. There are copies available. There are no copies of these memories. At least not half of them.

Why didn't I finish the photography so that I could burn it onto DVDs? Why didn't I burn them onto DVDs anyway?

Fuck. I set myself up. I didn't allow myself to care enough to do anything productive to protect what I cherished. And my higher self or whoever seized the opportunity to teach me a lesson about attachment.

Fuck.

Fuck.

I have to push the pain and the nausea of the ego out of my head. These things only matter to it, not to my real self. If they had mattered to my real self, I wouldn't have lost them. I would have had copies or I would have been more cautious. I shouldn't have erased them from my desktop. I took them off and put them on the harddrive because I didn't want to keep them on my desktop in case my desktop crashed. I was learning my lesson from almmost losing my book when my laptop crashed.

I make the mistake of revering what I cherish. And then it's like a virtual throne of memory. A peasant can sit anywhere, so he leaves his mark wherever he sits. The stuff I don't care about can be stored wherever, I don't care. It moves about, I burn it off, I don't pay attention. I end up with a trillion copies. But I treat my favorites like a king and they end up being in only one spot - the throne. I can't have them just anywhere. I don't want them here and there and on cds and on different computers. I just one them in one special spot. One fucking virtual memory throne. And when the throne gets destroyed, so, it seems, does the royalty.


I can let it go. I mean, I live my life ignoring all of these things. I haven't touched them in forever. They meant so much to me, but I can move on, right? I could better move on without the pain of knowing what I'd lost. What I don't know, can't hurt me. Or hurt my ego...

I think I had to be reminded of these because of this Christmas deal. I'm so concentrated on the presents, the objects, the attachment to the objects. I'm searching for things that these people will like, things that mean a lot to them. But I'm encouraging their ego more than anything. Or encouraging my ego, anyway. It's almost like I'm not doing it for the love of these people, I'm doing it for the love of these objects. I'm doing it because I feel that my friends and family should have the joys of special and meaningful objects. But there are only special and meaningful objects to the ego, not the higher self.

Honestly, I got far too wrapped up (that's a pun) in the pursuit of objects, I lost the focus on the affection and love I have for the people that caused me to give them something anyway.

But even though they will love the things I've gotten them, (except my dad, who has never been one for being attached to sentimental things. smart man.) it still doesn't mean as much as I've been pretending it does. These things don't meant that much to their higher selves. They spark pleasurable experiences with the people who possess them, but they're only crutches. All the purest pleasure and bliss and satisfaction can't be given to someone by an object.

I think the best gift I can give them is love. Because it's an energy that heals and thus lightens the load that the soul carries around. And I can't think of a way to effectively do this, but how sad is it, that I'm ready to give up and go back to my superficial copies of the real thing - like I'll focus on less, settle for less, because I don't believe I can achieve more.

I've just realized what I'm going to give everybody (even though I've already done so).

I think I'm going to give them Melissa fortune cookies. Not to tell their fortune, but with a little slip of paper that has advice on the inside. Melissa advice. Healing advice, though they may or may not apply it. But that's my contribution, something that if taken to heart can give much more pleasure and bliss than a cd or clothes. Something that can touch the soul, instead of the ego.