Desperation

Had a brush with some punks. Well, I'm not sure there was more than one. Also, I'm assuming they were punks. The real story is, I don't really know anything. All I know is that someone wanted my iPod. BAD. What can I say, I've got great taste in music.

Whenever I think about petty theft (or breaking and entering, either way), I can't help but give the benefit of the doubt that there was a damn good reason. Granted, I'm still pissed. But having worked with so many poor women in gritty neighborhoods filled with shifty people, and remembering that quite a few of them are on the wrong side of the law (and that's just the ones I know about!), can I really judge? I mean, how do I know this dude or dudette didn't sell my stuff and use the money for an abortion? How do I know that all patients who miraculously pull together that last $200 haven't stolen something or done something terrible? Don't we tell them to do whatever it takes to get their money together? Don't we refuse to help them and speak brusquely, even though our ultimate goal is to help them? Needing money is hard! I've been needy before, and it really sucked. To be so needy as to smash a window and grab what you can in 12 seconds must suck HARD.

While I'd love nothing more that to have my apartment door back in one piece, and while I'm still concerned about how my workouts are going to turn out without my jams, I can only hope that the end result of this horrible experience gets a kid into college, or gets a needy woman an abortion, or feeds a family, or whatever! And if the world is somehow a little bit nicer because of a few 100s worth of electronics, I guess that's a fair trade. I guess.