First of all, yes, I know the W and P in #FirstWorldProblems shouldn’t be capitalized according to proper hashtag rules. But this is what such things would look like if an English major had come up with the concept.
Which we totally didn’t.
We’re too good for that.
No, really. We are.
That aside, I couldn’t sleep well last night. And since I haven’t been able to sleep well for three nights in a row now – and for two and a half weeks in a row before that, and essentially for 15 years in a row before that – I got up to get some stuff done instead.
I was pretty productive too. I edited a college application essay for an academic client. I next played my own editor for a few pages of Proving America… admittedly skipping ahead a few more pages to smile over a certain scene. And then, instead of reading or editing even more like I wanted to, I set about continuing my productive streak by writing today’s blog.
I think the first part of it came to 437 words, which was admittedly a bit too long considering how the second part was going to be an entire story chapter. I had wanted to keep the intro to maybe just 200 words. But oh well. I liked what I’d written, even after doing my typical editorial twice-over. So I figured I’d leave it alone after that.
Job well done.
When I went to save it though, I got a bit confused.
Was I saving the right manuscript?
It looked blank.
Did I have more than one document open?
It looked like I had more than one document open. So I must be saving the wrong one. In which case, I might as well delete it, right?
Wrong. I lost the whole blog post and can’t figure out how to get it back. #FirstWorldProblems indeed.
Now, there are clearly worse things in the world than losing a 437-word manuscript. I could have lost a 90,000-word manuscript like I did when I was 17. The computer crashed, and poof! My story went up in pre-cloud smoke.
Ultimately, good riddance. It was a ridiculously cheesy creation. But that’s not how I felt at the time. Not even close.
Back then, I mourned that manuscript. But here comes the obnoxious lecture part of the story…
Regardless of whether we have #FirstWorldProblems or not, just as long as we’re alive, we humans have a choice on how to handle what comes our way. We can either rise to the occasion with the resources we have, we can give up, or we can give in.
That applies to much rougher situations than mere editorial woes. Just look at George Washington and George Washington Carver (my favorite historical figure ever since he paved the way for peanut butter).
Both men could have given up so many times due to extreme hardships. Yet they didn’t. They looked at what they had, looked at what they didn’t, and bridged the gap to get somewhere better anyway. Somewhere more worthwhile.
Somewhere with peanut butter!
Moreover, there are plenty of people throughout history who had it as rough or even more so than they did. This year, for example, I was privileged to be someone’s editor who had the worst childhood I have ever personally heard of. It was horrendous. And her adult life hasn’t been a piece of cake either.
Yet she’s now running her own business, casting off toxic relationships and writing her memoirs. She’s an utter inspiration.
Knowing that, it would be utterly pathetic if I let #FirstWorldProblems like a deleted blog manuscript get in my way. I’m going to rewrite that stupid 437-word post and even try to whittle it down to 300 words.
Only I'll do it for Wednesday. After I sulk a little bit more.