Britney moment

I can't believe it. I had a brilliant post written. I was slating Stephenie Meyer, of Twilight fame, for being a plagiarist, implying, with brilliantly subtle writing and literary insights*, that she knocked off Charlaine Harris's Sookie Stackhouse novels when she was coming up with her series. I cited evidence of plot similarities. I even worked in post-modernism and feminism. It was worthy of a literary journal, assuming I could persuade one of those lofty publications to lower their standards by printing something about lowly popular fiction, and sci-fi fantasy popular fiction at that.


Now I know I have my moments on here, usually when I'm at work, and I claim that Pulitzer prize winning posts have been lost through the genius of web filtering. That was not the case this time. I have nobody to blame except myself, I suppose. Myself and my inability to double check my own work. Because there was a fault on the posting page. Thinking I knew how to save the day, I quickly copied the text I had in the box. Or at least I thought I had. What I found when I pasted it into the refreshed page, however, was less than half of what I'd typed in the first place. So my moment of brilliance is lost, just like so many other posts of mine. Or so I thought. Because I had a flash of brilliance that exceeded all my other flashes. I spotted the "Save Now" button. I had a back up.

Which is more than I can say for my life outside of blogging. I've just survived another round of redundancies at work. My margin for error has all but vanished now though. My salary is a fraction of what it was a year ago. My colleagues have dwindled. In fact, of the team of ten that I was working with this time last year, I'm the only one left. As of next month, there will be three people sitting in the same room as me. At it's peak, there were about 15 there. The things that made the company great are disappearing and I'm left with an even greater realisation that I live without a safety net. If the axe falls on my job, as it threatens to every couple of months, my back up position is a retreat back to my parents. Much as I love them, I can't cope with living with them permanently again. So, rather than dwell in misery for whatever time as an employed person remains to me - and surely it can't be long given that there are no new projects in the office once the current crop cycle down - I will be Marie Antoinette. I will eat cake. Just like I did tonight in celebration. Well, apple pie and ice cream, anyway. You have to love flatmates who are glad they don't need to find a new person to fill your room. It makes for a far better celebration when everyone has a reason to be happy.

*For anyone who read the post before this one, Monkey See..., I'm sure this was not the post I wrote. The one I had was far more intelligent and didn't involve any references to checking out men. Honest.