My backpack got stolen out of the school library when I went to go take a leak. Not even a long, been-sitting-in-lecture leak, more of a fine-tuning-my-comfort-level sort of situation. Anyways, I digress. I did the thing they tell you not to do, I left my shit unattended(My backpack, any excrement would have been appropriately disposed of). I've done it before, and on this day I figured I'd do it again.
And then it was gone.
I went and talked to the security guard, and our conversation was chiefly as follows:
Me: I think someone stole my backpack.
Security Guard: It's not where you were last?
Me: No, I checked.
Security Guard: Yup, it's stolen. Chances are they wanted your laptop. They'll trash your backpack later and we may be able to get that, but everything valuable is probably gone.
So it was gone. My laptop, a shit ton of newly purchased art supplies, homework assignments and essays, and a graphic novel I'd been spending the past year of my life on. It's a strange feeling when you're robbed like that, a rare combination of rage and helplessness I don't think you can get any other way. It's kind of like turning into the incredible hulk after a shark has already eaten your legs.
I held out hope that the binder with my novel in it or something might wash up like debris from a shipwreck somewhere in the stacks. I was not so lucky. The project I'd been working on for the past year had been destroyed. I'm being dramatic, maybe, but the rage/helplessness combo goes together about as well as giraffes and roller skating.
Now before I divulge any further, I'm going to state that I'm a cynical person. I always have been, to some degree. And I'm fine with being cynical. Bunnies-and-Rainbow, Life is Love people make my heart nauseous. If you're one of them or don't really want to become someone who has a ball of centipedes for a conscience, here is a picture of a fluffy animal. Do not scroll further.
Given that you've passed the adorable bunny of blissful ignorance, you must also be something of a nihilist. So here's my theory. People aren't basically good. I'm of the opinion that morality is subjective, particularly cross-culturally subjective, and as much as we'd like to believe there is a universal law claiming that we shouldn't murder people or pee into a child's Christmas stocking, I'm not so sure such a law exists.
That's not to say nothing good exists in the world, mind you. There's plenty of orange sodas and happy endings to be had. The thing about people, and I do believe this is universal, given that we're mammals, is that humans are socially driven. Wanting to connect with and be close to other people drives us to be good people, because assholes don't make friends unless they're beautiful. And there's probably a little part of everyone that would love to be a beautiful asshole that didn't require effort or a personality to succeed in life. Means and opportunity, if you had them, you'd do it.
Being social isn't limited to our normal view, American normal, Indonesian normal, or otherwise. We will do anything to be accepted, and if the only people who will accept you are jew-hating necrophiliacs, you can be damn sure you'll be tattooing a swastika on your corpse-banging backside.
I don't really know if there's anything 'wrong' with that, you know. It's just sort of one of those things that exists, like prejudice and racism and 6:00 in the morning. I just think it's strange that we feel so desperately that everything should be assumed to be good, or if it's not good, capable of rehabilitation. Sure we all adhere to our social norms, and there are plenty of people that turn their lives around after getting smacked in the face with jail or jesus or whatever ephiphany it may be. There's nothing in nature, to me, to indicate that these are the most typical stories. But maybe I'm too cynical.
In fact, I know I'm cynical, to the point where any time I witness someone who appears to be genuinely optimistic the only thought in my brain is that they're either hiding from or compensating for something. No one smiles unless they got away with something.
So that's the story about some douche stealing my backpack.
About A Blog
I'm a Denver Comedian, occasional cartoonist and person of interest to someone, probably. These articles are really too long.