November 14, 2004

burglary is not robbery. go figure. (part 2)

so, i called the police shortly after i discovered laptop gone, after trying desperatly to get ahold of all roommates to make sure they hadn't "borrowed" it. no, of course not. hadn't expected that to be the case anyways. first time calling 911, wasn't traumatic. taken down a peg when i was told i was "burgled" not "robbed." "whatever, my laptop is gone!!" nearly broke through my lips. cops were sent out. almost cried when kat told me she'd be devastated if her computer were taken. didn't. haven't had the urge to since. while i was waiting, i cut up giant salmon steak and wrapped up pieces for freezing. also chicken breasts. cops came - young. one was bald, the other had a bit of a lisp. took a statement, looked at the balcony, acted sympthetic, left. called half an hour later telling me that a fingerprinter would come the next day or monday. went to bed after long period of wakefulness and shakiness and pouting. next morning was awoken by roosh - fingerprinter had come. it was a young, attractive blonde, i discovered upon putting on pants and emerging from my room. she printed. evidently, you cannot lift prints from wood or plastic - they just get sucked in, whooo. she got one off the glass balcony door, but it wasn't very good. she left, i went back to sleep. told the manager that afternoon about the robbery and learned that we hadn't been the only ones hit - someone upstairs had lost a laptop the same day. perhaps we should start a support group. this morning, i discovered how this entire situation has affected my sleep. i woke up to every little noise. in this case, the roommate walking around outside my room, someone banging on a door and yelling for the manager, phone ringing. i'm a notoriously heavy sleeper, normally. one night at camp (space camp, will you believe?) i slept through a councellor shaking me and yelling, "what is your name?" when i was found, not in my bunk, but the one above. evidently i answered her without ever waking up.

i feel slightly wounded. it's not an entirely uncommon feeling for me. i walk around with a large gash down my abdomen, from my breasts to my bellybutton. it doesn't hurt, it just feels open and exposed, as if anyone could just reach a finger in and poke my liver. i feel bad that i'm upset about losing this thing, it's just a possesion, after all. i feel harried that i have two midterms coming up early this week. there's stress and guilt and worry and insecurity.

on a side note, i'm amazed that so many of my friends never had imaginary friends. kat didn't, jim didn't, amy didn't. i had assumed everyone did, but it seems that it's not so common as the media has lead me to believe. this all came about the night i was "burgled" and was rambling incohesively at jim so i wouldn't have to go to bed. i had not one, but two distinct imaginary friends - richard and jericho. biblical names because my nanny used to read the bible to me when i was little. back before i was a heathen. at that time, there were monsters under my bed who would grab my ankles if i stepped too close. gobilns danced around a circular rug by the yellow light of my nightlight and cast spells and wouldn't mind having me for dinner. i would build fortresses on my bed and play with my menagerie of stuffed animals - the dolphin princess and jaguar prince were in love, but it was forbidden and she was guarded by the hammerhead...well you get the idea. i'm not sure whether i should feel badly that i didn't have real people to play with at that time, or that they didn't have imaginary ones. i was a bit lonely as a child, i admit, but i also feel as if they might have missed out. on what, i'm not sure. maybe just the pure decadent exhaultation of the imagination and fiction. self-delusion is fun, you should try it!

so anyways, i'm trying to re-build my sense of security. and at the same time learn all about human reproduction, zygote formation, and hormone control. also, calculus. my new myth is that everything will be alright. and i fall asleep each night clutching my stuffed koala to my chest. any little bit of security i can find, i guess.


Post a Comment

<< Home