Steal Me, Sweet Thief

It is such an odd state of mind that you're in after you've been robbed.  If you're someone who is a trusting soul who has had good neighbours and never been violated before, your sense of trust is shattered and you don't know what to think any more.  You experience a fear and an insecurity that you haven't known.  If you're someone like me who, despite generally being a "glass half full" personality, always has their guard up and expects desperate people to do desperate things (and many a person is desperate), then it's not so shocking.

Yet still, it does something.  I don't know what to do with myself.  I don't know what to expect.  I don't know what to do with the rage and don't anyone dare say prayer because prayer won't bring back my dad's bracelet and my studio's computer.  I definitely believe in the power of God and the generosity of people who are open to "hearing" God and acting on his promptings.  But from years of experience, I know that it's kind people, generous people, who help out in cases like this.  Regardless of religion or spiritual belief.  The easiest thing in the world is to say "I'm praying for you", and that's nice. Even though I doubt you are spending much time in prayer, it's a nice thought.  I don't want to go off on a tangent about the fact that our actions are the proof of our spirituality, not words or how many hours a week you go to church or how many groups you're in. Well, actually I do really want to go off on that one, but won't right now.

My mind is so weighted with thoughts right now.  I am extremely grateful that no one is hurt or ill.  That thankfulness won't change.  So I go from being level-headed about things, to completely paralyzed with fear and don't know what to do about anything.  I don't want to leave the house empty.  I don't want to ever wear the Fidelity jeans I won because it will always remind me of the violation they caused.  I don't want to be upstairs.  I don't want to be downstairs.  I don't want to stay home.  I don't want to go out.  I'm nauseous but I'm hungry.  I want to cook but can't get myself to make anything.  I want to call someone but am too tired to talk any more.  I want to play music for my little monkey (Roch Voisine's "Little Drummer Boy", hello, favorite) but can't because my computer's gone.  Every nap and bedtime, we sat on the couch, him with his favorite pillow and "Rum pum pum" playing, and he'd go asleep.  That is gone.  My studio is affected because now I can't record anyone's progress.  I can't show my students YouTube videos or listen to music and play their tracks for them.

I HATE WHOEVER DID THIS SO MUCH I WANT TO THROW UP ALL OVER THEIR FACE AND THEN THROW UP ALL OVER THEIR FACE AGAIN.  Then I want to blare Rod Stewart music into their eardrums for hours on end while force-feeding them hairy anchovies.

On the other hand, what the eff have you been through in your life to make you desperate enough to open my son's piggy bank and steal his change.

Good God.  What do you do with this.

T Cozy.

I haven't written in ages, and I think it's because I don't know what to write about.  Also not much time and extremely tired, but mostly, I don't know what to say.  If I talk about how much I love snow, I will get the haters all riled up.  I don't feel like talking about anything.  All I want to do is sit and stare out the window at the snow and sit next to the tree.  I have eaten enough sweets and drank enough coffee to last about 2 months, and still somehow, have lost 10 pounds (I think that happened before the sweet-eating began ... yes?)  In any case, it's like a heavy dark grey blanket has been lifted off and I can enjoy things again.  I have all my gifts bought, wrapped, and shipped.  All cards are written, sent, and handed out.  Recital program ready to print.  Parties planned, food bought. 

It's bizarre.

Is this how people are used to feeling?

See what I mean?  Despite my clear mind, I don't feel like I have anything to say.  I could talk about the fundraiser last Sunday night, but don't yet have the energy.  I just feel content.  No super-highs or super-lows.  Just good.  Calm.  There is something to be said for just being content, not needing a rush of adrenaline all the time.  The constant adrenaline rush constantly takes you out of the moment.  I think it's avoidance.  Or something.  But again, not feeling like thinking too much. 

Quynh Nhi pad thai is so delicious I can't stand it.  Went with Lori on Friday, then went to the Bay.   It was so bizarre being in a mall.   I feel like I haven't been anywhere public in months. It was nice just being around other PEOPLE, non-music-related-people.  People who don't associate me with a piano.  Just talking about clothes and "Do you think this colour would look good on my daughter?" kind of comments.  Love that.  People are so sweet.  I just stood in between the racks of pyjamas at The Bay and watched all these lovely women- all ages, sizes, backgrounds, personalities, and senses of fashion (or yes, lack thereof)- and watched them choose gifts for the special people in their lives.  Some people say Christmas isn't about presents, but when I watched the smiling faces buying robes for their daughter-in-laws, I almost cried.  It was so "human", seeing how deeply these ladies cared about the small details of the items they were buying, wanting to bring much joy as possible to someone they care about. 

I know I'm idealizing everything because it's snowing but maybe that is WHY I love snow so much.  You would NEVER see this happen in July.  Summer, you can SUCK IT.