This month has been a time of transition, or at least, a time of preparation for transition. No, I am not getting a sex-change or slipping into a dissociative identity. I will be moving into a new apartment and dealing with all that implies. I am not one to horde many belongings and thus have spent much time selling, giving away, and trashing unwanted items. This process has given me time to evaluate what is important in life, or rather, what I deem important to myself. Really, I don't know what other personality constructs find important, but whatever.
Apparently, I don't value having a comfortable place to sit. Nor, do I desire a surface to rest a drink. Also, I discovered I have no need of pots, pans, or cutlery. Interesting… I do require a place to store books, DVDs, and video games. So, my new apartment will amount to nothing more than a storage place for plastic cases, bound papers, and one person. Bring on the apocalypse, I am ready.
Obviously my housing, and that which is housed within, aren't of much importance to me. I did get excited today, though, and found myself giving more than a fleeting thought to the prospect of catching a criminal. Exacting justice is a thrilling concept, but since I am neither a policeman or a masked vigilante, I had to settle for perusing a collection of photographs at the local P.D.. The investigation of my robbery and the search for the perps still continues.
I was given a junior-high school year book to flip through. The yearbook represented the student body of the school adjacent to the parking lot I was robbed in. It is likely that the criminals attend, or at one time attended, said junior-high. Only one photo seemed vaguely familiar, and will probably amount to little, but I was struck by something else unrelated. I marveled at how young kids are and how old I am. Each face staring at me was smiling and innocent, or seemingly so, and the thought that any one of these younglings was capable of violent robbery was sickening. Even if I did see the face of my assailants, I wouldn't want to conceive of their villainy. I found myself projecting hope and enthusiasm on these unknown faces. I was projecting myself upon them.
I had to remind myself that the world can be ugly and man can be the instrument of great evil. As I looked at those children I didn't want to believe that this was true. In all honesty, I felt as though I was the one committing evil by looking at the photos. I could choose any face and ruin their lives. Each photo was a big red button linked to mass destruction, akin to shooting fish in a barrel. I being white and the criminals being black I already hold a cruel and unfair advantage over them. I stayed my hand and pushed no buttons. All I gave the police was a little more to go on, as I said before, which will probably just eliminate others from incrimination. The books will close and the criminals are likely to never be found.
One thing can be counted on, though. Man has a tendency for complacency and the making of mistakes. Heck, my self-assuredness and lack of forethought is what got me robbed to begin with. Those who robbed me, though, will do it again to someone else. Hopefully, if they do, they will make a mistake or the victim will be able to help the police more than I have and the criminals will be brought to justice.
After the police station I found an unused computer (mine still rests at the bottom of the ocean), surfed the web, entered a video game tournament, and managed this blogging. Soon I will leave for my job and swim once again in the waters of catatonic workaday. Life snores on.
Forever,
SG
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