Thursday, November 13, 2008

*silence*

That would be the current soundtrack for my life.

The setup: its opening night. I'm excited, nervous, and a little bit queasy, so I listen to my iPod in the hallway outside the auditorium with this girl who just moved from West Virginia. A short time later, its warmups: and crew is reminding us in the most anxiety-inducing manner possible. Thinking frantically, I lean in through the doorway, set said iPod atop a filing cabinet beside a small black binder, and pop into the black box for warmups.
Show goes great. I go home.
iPod stays.
And at approximately eleven 'o clock last night, I realize this.

But hey, easy job- I just pop into the room tomorrow morning, whisk away my mp3 player, and head off to biology.
Problem #1: iPod is not there.
Problem #2: No one seems to know if an iPod has been found.
Problem #3: I've searched my house, every inch of the theater facility, the car, the garage, the lawn: any place that little device could possibly be. Nothing.

So, as I sit here sobbing to myself, I face the revelation that my iPod has been stolen.

Plainly, I was being an idiot bringing the thing in the first place, but I thought "hey, everyone else does it, why not me?". Even an upperclassmen left his overnight the day before, picked it up the next day, and all's well that ends well.
Furthermore, I should have found a better place. Skipped warmups, gone to the dressing room, found my bag and shoved it to the very bottom, but there again: I thought it would be safe! Why oh why did I ever put an ounce of trust or faith in the human race?

Of these facts I am certain: there was most likely no janitorial presence that night. It was there during the time when we all entered the classroom after the show. It was on top of the filing cabinet, never moved by me. I have witnesses to prove each fact. But this brings to light an all the more painful piece of data: the thief ("fur", in latin: we're studying crime vocabulary this week!) is one of the cast or crew. One of these people that circles up for a group prayer each night before curtain, one that I link arms with each and every time, now knows they have taken something that belongs to me. And thus far, they have shown no remorse.

Its hilarious- the kids of the south have something of a reputation, for the most part. Like being born in the bible belt gives you automatic virtue and morals. For some, that may be true.

But when I stop and think about it, there are people everywhere that will do this without a second thought. And while I personally am going to the vice principal's office tomorrow morning to initiate the investigation process, I know there are some people that would never dare.
Why does this happen?

So excuse me while I beat myself up for being a retard in the highest degree. I have an iPod to find, and I will not get a night of restful sleep until I do.

1 comment:

Pyro said...

Use your wakey wakey time to write your novel, lest you be publicly embarrassed by the Texas people.