Going to be light posting for a bit, because I’m working on the AZ-104 certification. I scored the voucher a while back from one of Microsoft’s promotions they do every year, and I was feeling pretty meh about it until I stumbled into a job where I get to touch Azure every day. So I’m going to hammer down and see if I can land the cert by the 17th of next month. (And I better, cause I put off the CCNA to do it.)
But the actual content for today is light for another reason; I stumbled across a complete and utter mystery. So, I can recall most of my creative ideas, books or stories that never went anywhere, but I can still generally remember the shape of the thing. Like my first godawful science fiction story from back in grade school, or the short (very short) one from that period that I’d actually love to dig up and post because it was honestly really good. Or the horror story I wrote in high school, or terrible fanfic ideas I had the werewithal not to attempt. I still have most of a fantasy epic banging around in my head that I’ll probably never do anything with, and then of course the two books I’m actively working on now.
But this evening, I was clearing out some old directories, and I came across the beginning of a science fiction story that I couldn’t actually remember writing. I honestly thought it was something I’d copied from somewhere, but it’s clearly a thing I wrote. Reading my own words as if I was a reader introduced to me for the very first time was absolutely surreal. It was like I was looking into a parallel dimension for a second. It’s kind of like a vivid dream that you just can’t remember; clearly I had an idea and I can see the bones of something there, but I just can’t recall or work out what the intent was. It’s almost kind of sad, seeing the shadow of something that never was and will never be.
[tonystark]sweetheart, that could be the name of my autobiography[/tonystark]
Going to have to dig deep into the nested archive folders that have built up over the years to see if I can find any more weird, buried treasures. Because God knows with my penchant for starting things and never finishing them, I’ve probably got acres of scraps sitting around here to marvel at.