I'm in mourning.
Deep, deep mourning and sadness and I cannot even begin to describe the sense of loss and emptiness I feel. I'm in rage. Various profanities have poised themselves on my lips and I must fight them because they want to lash out and curse the bastards who smashed out the window in my car and made off with the most precious collection of belongings I've ever owned.
Ah, but they're just belongings.
Perhaps to some people, a box or a few boxes of books might be "just belongings," but not to me. My book collection is indeed the most precious thing I've ever owned, and it's gone. Stolen. Violently ripped from my vehicle and probably lying in a dumpster somewhere. I know my books are not what the thieves were after because several books were left, carelessly tossed aside and in disarray lying among the not-sharp shards of busted-out car window glass.
And it's all my fault for being such an idiot. It's going to take me a very long time to get over this, and I might never be able to fully forgive myself. Here's the story.
My place of employment had an official End of the Year; Yeah, We Know it's the Beginning of the Year, but We Were Just Lazy Getting Around to Throwing It party last night. I attended this party, because as newbie/temp-to-hire employee, I had been specially invited and figured it would be a good idea to attend.
Whether or not it was a good idea is relative now, in hindsight.
Staying with friends in the Potrero district in the great city of San Francisco, I walked to the brewery where this EotY,WKitBotY,bWWJLGAtTI party was being held. I had left my vehicle parked back where I was staying, and as the night wore on, I proceeded to dine and drink with my most friendly co-workers.
Some number of hours later, I've learned that my place of employment is quite happy with my work and has more or less told me that they want to hire me as a full-time employee.
Yay! I head "home".
Fast forward to this morning, and I venture outside into the cool, brisk San Francisco morning with the intention of going to get a newspaper. My eyes come to rest on my little car, and immediately notice the busted out window and the broken glass on the street.
My car is _empty_
Empty, as in null, VOID of the belongings it previously contained.
My car is empty as in Empty.
I've been robbed.
My car is Empty as in EMPTY, and it slowly begins to dawn on me. I attempt to assess damage control and remember where and what it held, but to no use.: letters from my now dead parents, keepsakes that I'd acquired from my life of small trinkets . . . all gone. And the thieves made off with most of my books. Boxes of books, the only things I found necessary to haul with me across the Sierras.
I guess this is how California welcomes people.
(This post ends with me and my housemates pouring hefty glasses of brandy. At 10 AM)