Half of Scene Missing. Missed Opportunity to Meet Edward Albee. Scriptwriting Hates Me.

I sign into the computer, just a few more awkward, tension filled lines to add to the scene and its done. I open it, click on its strange title, scroll down, and...half of its gone. The last half of the scene I've been slaving over for weeks is not there. As if I really needed one more scriptwriting disaster. I discovered yesterday that I manage to miss out on an opportunity to take a week long class, for free taught by my absolute hero. If I could choose anyone, and I really do mean anyone, to study the art of writing under, it would be Edward Albee. I worship his plays, particularly Zoo story, as if they were holy. A thick volume of his collected works sits beside my bed. He is the most phenomenal writer to ever walk the planet. When applying for a weeklong program that offers both film and playwriting, do I happen to click on the list of who teaches it? Of course not. Why would I apply for playwriting? I did that last Summer. I should look more well rounded to colleges, I'll apply for something else. In an effort to look good to college I missed an opportunity to meet my hero. So, how I'm consoling myself over this by making sure every single scene I write from now until January, when hopefully I'll be going to the same program (yet begrudgingly not in a discipline taught by Edward Albee), is worthy to be read by the great Mr. Albee. My plan is to track him down, I mean, how big can this place chock full of two-hundred selected high school seniors be anyway? And run up to him shouting "Mr. Albee! You are the most influential writer I have ever read, I would be honored if you would read this scene and give me some feedback. I would value your critique more than anyone else that has ever walked the earth. Please." And then I'll shove a scene into his old, wise hands, and try not to have a brain aneurysm over the thought of Edward Albee reading my work. Of course though, because clearly luck is not on my side, one of the scene's I was considering to be a candidate for the feedback of Edward Albee, is half gone. I don't understand why it's gone, I press save after nearly every line, I'm always cautious by protecting my agonized over stuff, and yet its not there. This may be the most disappointing thing that has happened in my writing career since I was in third grade and the fifth grader in charge of typing up everyone's poetry to be sent to a contest changed the tenses of all my verbs and made all of the nouns plural so it sounded like a backwoods bum with no teeth had written it. Needless to say, I didn't win the contest. I probably am not going to get the adoring feedback that I've daydreamed about for years from my absolute hero either.