A letter to the person who broke into my car tonight

Dear Person,

Dude. Really? Okay, I can sort of see if I was hanging out in the hood of, like, Northeast Minneapolis at 3am on a Saturday night. But you've got BALLS to smash my window and swipe my stuff in broad daylight on Grand Avenue in St. Paul behind a well populated patio-open bar in 70 degree weather on a Tuesday evening. While I was doing YOGA for fuck's sake.

Yes, when it first happened I was surprised. And sad. And pissed. And violated. And relieved. And because I am a wordsmith, here is my message from each of those emotions:

Surprise: Is that my car? That's my car. That's my car with the window smashed right the fuck out. Really? Someone actually did this?

Sad: Dude, someone actually did this. And my stuff is gone. My ipod, which I really enjoyed. And my GPS, which told me where to go and how long it would take me to get there. And you're a really mean person. And I'll cry a little for a few reasons--first because it sucks and I don't deserve to be robbed. Second, because you reminded me that though I'm all yogic and happy and good energy these days, people like you--and a lot worse than you-- are still hanging out in the world being mean.

Pissed: You're an asshole. And you'll get what's coming to you. Karma, baby. Enjoy the twenty bucks you're going to get for my stuff. Savor it. Because you're a dick, and I kind of hope you overdose on whatever you buy with it. What gives you the right to not only steal my stuff, but to vandalize the shit out of me while you do so? Fuck off. Try getting a job and earning some fucking money like the rest of us have to in this life. Remember how I just told you to fuck off? Do it twice.

Violated: Okay, so some guy's hands were all up in my car. My diet coke can was upset and my rear view mirror was out of joint and some stranger's germs and ick and ooginess were all up in my grill. Literally. Disgusting. And you took my stuff. And you rifled through my belongings--not with respect or reverence, but with the intent to harm. And you may know where I live. And you have a GPS that will lead you right to me. And you *touched* my *stuff.*

Relieved: Becuase you were after my things and not me. Because I'm in a place in life where I know that an ipod and a GPS are not rights in this world, but niceities. And because when I came home there was no one waiting in my house but Gatsby, wagging his tail. Windows and electronics are replaceable...that's cool. And I cannot tell you how happy I am, in my only child self, that I really couldn't care less about the loss of possessions. They're stuff. And I can buy more. With cash that is also re-earnable. And I bet I'll appreciate them even more than I did the first time around. And I'll be more careful from now on, which, because everything happens for a reason, will probably safe me, ultimately, from a greater harm than you issued.

So, Person, you can see I'm a touch confused. Because I don't know whether to be mad at you (which doesn't do any good), feel sorry for you (for the bad karma that this and no doubt other poor malevolent decisions will garner you), or devote my next yoga practice to you in the hopes that some positive energy will help you in even the tiniest of ways. Or, perhaps, thank you. Becuase you didn't wait in my car for me to see what else you could take. And yeah, I won't sleep well tonight, but I'm surprisingly okay with that. Because I will sleep again--and I'll do yoga again, and I'll drive again (with a bright new shiny driver side window!) and I'll go shopping and buy myself some new electronics and live to enjoy them.

Sincerely yours,
Kelly
Robbery Victim..er...Victor.

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Well, not a lot to update except:

1. I've made myself far too busy than I can handle.

2. As a result of #1:

--> Insomnia has completely slowed me down. Like I think my heart is actually beating slower. I'm walking slower, talking slower, and, inevitably, thinking slower.

--> Nutrition and exercise have gone completely out of the picture.

--> Because of the insomnia, the nutrition, the exercise, my back and knees and neck have reached new levels of pain.

--> Because of the new levels of pain, my emotions are positively depressed (now there's an oxymoron for you). I'm like a vortex of depression--draining the energy of everyone around me. I got asked so many times today "what's wrong?" I think I may make a tshirt. Frankly, I'm too tired to explain it all.

3. This making myself more busy than I can handle is my own fault. And my attempt to keep adding fuel to the fire--adding more tasks--is only going to result in my shorting out and very possibly losing what I've been working really hard for.

4. Because I know myself, I know it's only a matter of time before my health is compromised. From the sounds of it, that's taking place as we speak.

5. I have a test in Death and Dying tomorrow. I'm really hoping that I don't fail it. Seriously. For the amount of time i spent studying for this test compared to the last one, failure is a very real possibility. Here's hoping the gods of test taking are with me tomorrow.

I think that's it. Oh, I referred to "12" and "midnight" as two separate hours today when telling someone that I'm awake into the night. As in, "I'm wide awake around 11, 12, midnight, 1, 2..." Yeah, I should take a test.

That little neon green butterfly...

I seem to have developed a whopping case of insomnia.

About two weeks ago, over spring break, I decided that maybe the reason why I'd been staying up until 1,2,3am was because I was taking naps in the afternoon when I could. And just so you know, when I nap, it's a 2 hour event. I'm not a cat-napper, I'm a sleeper. Anyway, I decided to skip the naps and fight to be awake in the afternoons, hoping to go to sleep at a more reasonable time.

This resulted in me getting about 2-3 hours of sleep each night last week. The only result of a decrease in naps was that I was more tired during the day. It did nothing to affect my sudden burst of energy that hits at around 11:30pm and sustains me until 2:30, 3am.

This is not good.

It's 12:51am now, and I need to be at work in six hours and nine minutes. I'm not tired.

So much for starting the week off right.

The point of it all...

Last night I got word from my friend Camie (college roommate) that her father-in-law had passed away on Friday. She was there with him along with the rest of his family when he died. He had been sick for several years, but of course that doesn't make things less difficult.

I can only imagine this was the base for my "situation" last night. I was in bed trying to fall asleep when I ran my tongue over my one crooked tooth. I thought, hm. I wonder if it's shifted. I wonder what it'll be like when I'm 80.

Okay, so no biggie, right? Normally, totally cool. However, in the dead of night those thoughts manifest themselves into epic levels of morbid thought. I started to cry, thinking simply, "I don't ever want to die." Because I don't want to lose my memories. I can't imagine a world in which I--my stuff, my thoughts, my memories--don't exist. So then I start thinking, what does any of it matter? If we lose our memories when we die, which we most certainly do, then why bother to create them? What's the ultimate difference between someone who dies at birth and someone who dies at age 100? Sure, you impact other people, but those people die too and then you become pointless all over again.

I became so absolutely horrified by my own existence, and the idea that it will someday cease, that I was absolutely beside myself. I think it's because I imagine that when we die we go back to how we were before we were born, and there are no memories associated with that. And this idea that I hear about "well, you'll be dead, you won't care" is not appeasing--I *want* to care. I want to always care.

So please, someone, explain this to me. Why are we here? If it's all a matter of just helping ourselves become better, to help others be better, to make life fun and good for however long we're here but then it all goes away forever, then why does it matter if you're successful or a failure? Rich or poor? If your life is amazing or miserable?

Okay...I'm going back to Ghostbusters. This is all too much thought for a Sunday afternoon.

2am and I'm still awake writing this song...

So, the inevitable has occurred. I thought that since this was the Summer of Thirty that I should try to sleep like an adult, so I tried to be in bed by eleven or midnight and wake up around eight or nine. This worked just fine through this past weekend, but the last few nights I've been awake until 2am or so and sleeping until 10am. This is a terrible time for this schedule to start because in, GASP, a month and three days, I have to go back to work and be ready to teach the minds of tomorrow at 7:20am.

I woke up this morning at 8:30 but then I had to go and ruin it by taking a nap from 10:30 to 11:30.