This Morning

Cori woke me up half crying with the news that her car had been broken into and my cd's were all stolen. I half woke up and after realizing this wasn't a bad dream by neither her nor me, and felt the stinging loss. I'm sorry to those who have had much more taken from them, but this hurt. All my cd's? I thought. Then I remembered that I had taken most of my favorites out and put them on a little shelf (shrine?) in my room. I dragged myself out of bed, my body which had 3 hours of sleep at this point, protested heavily. Simplicity, I thought, thrust upon.

I have been thinking about simplicity alot recently. I have been thinking about the things that I own, and how much I love some of them, and how much I hate them as a whole. I am terribly unorganized, and so most of my things are piled on top of themselves, like desert platau's, as high as chairs, on top of chairs, all around my bed. I think If I could just get rid of all this stuff, maybe things would be better. Maybe I would be more focused then, my days would be more purposeful, or somehow, large muscles I did not formerly possess would suddenly be joined to my body.

The only meaningful thought I can cull out of having someone break my fiance's window, and (thank God not harming the radio or the ignition at all) take all of my cd's, is that my life is more than my things. I am more than my cd collection. I am more than my clothes, and other things I own. If all of my movies, books, and instruments were stolen, I would still be me. My identity is larger than the things which I have collected. It is larger than my cd collection, mainly because now it has to be.