The beginning of an obsession.

 The computer crashing was scary. It really seemed this experiment came to an end, I was so wrong. Over the rest of March the process continued. At some point in every day I found myself in front of the laptop typing. More often my memories were being activated for the specific time frame I was covering. I'm more aware of how it works, and have been letting it do what it wants. Something was bothering me though. I don't know how to write a novel. With so much information what do I decide to put in and leave out. It crosses my mind that I really am writing a book, not that I want to jinx it by admitting what I'm doing.
 It needs to be coherent. Since there is no telling Sheila's side, it has to be about us both. The original design was for her to write her view and me mine, then we combine them into one book with two sides being told. Everything was going fine until I read what had been written and a voice in my head not my own kept telling me I had things in the wrong place. After 2 weeks of correction, I took a couple of days off and it began again. Before the end of the month I had nearly 50 pages. Around 2 pages a day seemed pretty good, for someone with no clue. I still didn't want to tell anyone what I was doing. If the computer crashed and I lost it all, that would suck! Crashes were happening a lot and the computer wasn't acting right. Mike got a phone call to ask if he would look at it and see what I have done to mess it up. User error! Mike sent Robyn and she showed me all kinds of neat computer things to keep me in line. Everything was back on track.
 Over April my page average increased rising to 3.5 per day. My typing skills were picking up too. Still, I would not admit to anyone my secret project. Until one fateful day in the middle of the month....I had taken a break after typing for a bit early in the day. While riding my high of where I was in the story because it was coming to a really happy part, I answered Abby(neighbor) asking if anything interesting was going on because I seem in a strange mood. Before my brain caught on to what I said I had already told her "I think I'm writing a book." The secret was out now, she had to know details. Since I'm her brother from another father and mother, I answered her questions candidly. But she is the only one who knows!

How it started part 4

  For one whole day Nothing new was typed on the word program. There are a few pages down, but I'm not writing a book or anything. Just seemed to be typing to play with the program. Something is going on other than that, but i am not privy to those details. Since it was happening before I made a facebook profile for Sheila's birthday, it wasn't that.
 What started it up again was the following day I got curious to read the whole story in the computer. Reading did something to my memory because I was seeing the video of every day like someone plugged my head into the TV. For pure enjoyment sake I let the video play as the words led me. It came to the last paragraph, but I wanted to watch more. Too bad so sad go cry to your mommy. When I reached the last word, the video didn't stop, and neither did the words.
 An hour later Farscape came on so I stopped watching the video in my head and staring at the screen. My fingers were moving a lot, catching up with where I ended. You know, I kind of knew I was typing but paid it no attention. For that matter wasn't sure what I typed. So I scroll back to where it all started for the evening. 30 seconds after starting to read I see a blue screen telling me about some error with popcorn, or something, and that it was going to dump memory. It won't react to me. Something like this is what I expected. That's over. Now let's see if I can get the laptop to work again.
 Lucky me, it's back on. What happens if I open the word? In the immortal words of John Rambo, "Nothing is over!"

How it started, part 3

  While watching television I began to wonder about when certain shows had aired for the first time and when others were playing. My recent acquisition of the interwebs gave me a research tool I didn't have before. It was too new to me, I grew frustrated making me stop. Then the behavior of the two days prior began to surface once again. This time I tried something new, let it happen and keep my mind as blank as I can. Curiosity was growing, what would happen? Will it run it's course? How far will this go? It looks like I intend to write our book, Sheila. The problem is that I don't want to write our book without you. That doesn't seem to matter since my fingers are still typing and not what I am thinking.
  The last I remembered was being on page 4, having to count the pages since I don't know how to put numbers on the pages. After 3 hours of intermittent typing I wanted to know how far I had gotten now. As far as I knew I had maybe typed another page, but there were seven and about to hit eight if I hadn't stopped. What had I typed? After finding the place where I had left off the reading begins. These are my memories, but I can't recall that much vivid detail autonomously, how did I type in into a laptop? Now I'm getting annoyed. Everything is true, and putting memories into the proper place in my head. Somethings I thought happened later or earlier, but the pages were right, not me. It was freaking me out a little. Time came to close the program for the sake of my remaining sanity.
  The television wasn't distraction enough. Questions about the information I need would not leave me alone. Time to try the web again. This led to more frustration. My "fuckit" circuitry triggered and there was no more typing that last day of February. Now my occupying thoughts were about Sheila's birthday the next morning.
What would her pretty flowers look like?

How it started, pt 2

 February 2013 continued.
 My fingers finally stop giving me the chance to look at the screen. I see a recollection of the first day I was on the floor at my new job and how Sheila almost ran me over with her wheelchair before the first 90 minutes had closed. There was just over a full page too. This time I closed the window saving the data. Slightly annoyed, I went back to the chair she bought me and watched the television program I wanted to see. It didn't take long before that fog came back and it brought something else. What, I do not know.
 A commercial comes on, I went back to the dining table and had opened the document, the typing was underway once again, and I just cleared my head to let whatever was happening continue. At least until my program returned. The next commercial break and without a thought I was back in front of the laptop watching my fingers get used to the key placement. As they type away I'm thinking how funny it is that I haven't done so in more than 20 years, while wondering "what's going on here?".
 Seriously, I want to know sort of, but don't think anything beyond I'm just messing with the program to see what I can figure out how to do. The commercials end, I close and save, then go back to watching the tele. This strange behavior continued over the next program too, but I found myself ignoring more of the program with each session. Then a recent re-run of the show I was waiting for got sacrificed since I had seen it not long ago. While not paying attention to the whole thing I had managed to type our 4 whole pages and moved into the 5th. I did not realize how much had been written nor did I know how it read. So it was time to see what was there again.
 Something strange became clear very quickly, there was more fine detail on the pages than I easily recall. It was like reliving those moments. While reading I kept having moments of oh yeah! I remember that! Oh wow, how could I have forgotten that moment? By the time I reached the end of my typing I felt like a passenger to the process, watching it unfold, being asked what I thought of the part written.  

How it started: a retro blog

February 26, 2013 the only program in this laptop my neighbor Mike gave me that I have not messed with is the Word program. I opened a new document and began typing what I know most, not thinking about anything. Five minutes later closed the program not saving a thing.
 While a low point in my television watching came and I had time to kill my mind went into a fog. Sort of a trans. Before I knew it I was in front of the laptop again typing wildly. I was too busy looking at the keyboard to notice what story was on the screen. My mind started to catch on to the fog, and blow it clear enough for me to realize what was happening. My fingers were still typing while I got curious about what they were doing. What in the world am I typing?