Damn Good Biking

Damn Good Biking
Mammath Mountain

Friday, November 7, 2008

A turn of events

This trip has been an ultimate disaster.

I have little other news to offer, this is how it all played out.

Since leaving Charlottesville a few short days ago my life, dreams, and heart have been ultimately shattered into thousands of tiny jagged pieces. Immediately this trip has been filled with gloom, on my way to CA I fell ill, missed my flight and was charged $400 extra to get to my destination thus depleting my last monetary resources in the world and now have .55$ in my account.

On election day, the day of days, I felt such an overwhelming exuberance that the possibility for real change was at our finger tips, the new era in American history was unfolding before us. I'm merely doing my part. Call it chronic volunteerism.

So after the flight mishap and staying in Long Beach, I walked with my heavy bags a couple miles to the bus station when I arrived and reached into my back pocket searching for my wallet, it was gone. This loss cost me my identification, (passport) etc as well as Personal documents, and the last remnants of cash reserves left other than my bank account.

Africa Redux. Backpack is there too! I hate bags with wheels, that's tourist shit.

But its okay, I know being broke its not out of the ordinary, but with optimism in reserves I knew I'll get more money, ID's can always be replaced.

Wait, it gets worse.

This morning I had a meeting with the FVC and learned the organization has had some steps forward and some steps back, but its on its way to hoof'n forward. I just prefer to hit the ground running.

Wait, it gets worse.

Tonight we attended the annual conference for Swords to Plowshares and after making great connections, enjoying fantastic food, and working for the opportunity to secure funding for my horticulture program I left the event quite optimistic of a future for our organization.

Though my pockets were empty my heart was filled with hope with a positive future.

As we returned to our car walking through the concrete corridors of San Francisco we arrived to the parking spot and was immediately stricken with despair as I saw the chards of broken glass glistening in the street lights from what was once the back window to our car.

Luckily two of my bags were still in the car after a concerned citizen frightened the thief into dropping two of my bags and waited there until officers arrived to file a report and leaving me a note, but the damage was done. My mandolin was gone.

If you know me, spent some time with me, or are a regular reader than you know my immense satisfaction taken away from playing music. My beautiful mandolin was a gift I bought for myself after serving in Niger. I’m a musician, and though I have no plans to make a living playing music, its how I get through life. Sad, I play, Happy, I jam. Euphoric I dance-play-and relish in the self taught ability to create music entirely heart felt with others.

But now what do I do?

My heart is utterly broken. How can I replace an instrument I spent years dreaming and saving for, months shopping and researching every store in Virginia and online internationally. The single thing that gives me the greatest pleasure and excitement in my life has been taken from me, and for what?

Some evil bastard that has no appreciation for the countless hours spent practicing, and playing, or appreciates the craftsmanship of a fine instrument, or the what it takes…whatever.

God, my heart is entirely broken.

Tomorrow I head to Santa Cruz, I'm stopping by the horticulture program and going to do my best to assure my place in the program and pick up the pieces from there.

I'll be fine, money, ID's and personal papers can be replaced but not the object that reflects a large part of my soul with others.

As they say its "gut check" time and its time to pick myself up and keep persevering, but, but….

Damn this turn of events.

If karma catches this scum on the street I hope it secures the parasite a certain place in one of Dante's rings of purgatory. Then I'll do the good thing and forgive him, but it won't bring back my joy.

Be well everyone, and don't worry, my glass will be half full again and you can be rest assured by the time you have read this I have started treading on the hard path towards recovery and already making a new batch of lemonade.

Be well

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