What’s the opposite of serendipity?
Two days ago, I had a half written blog article about the firing of Sally Yates sitting on the desktop of my computer. Yesterday, that laptop was stolen.
So we’re interrupting this regularly scheduled programming to deal with this, because it’s just about the only thing I can think about right now. You don’t have to read it, but I have to write it. Fair warning, this post gets an R-rating for explicit language.
It’s consuming me. I’m incensed. I’m righteously furious. I’m goddamn pissed. And none of these emotions are useful in this case, because it’s just impotent rage; there’s zero chance of recovering my laptop. Every time I start to ruminate on it, it feels I’m ready to transform into a wolf man and run blindly through the forest, slashing at trees and howling at the moon. I want to go green Lou Ferrigno on someone’s ass. I want to punch a kitten in the face. I want to judo chop an endangered species. I want to participate in a Trump rally.
So yeah, I’m a tad bit miffed.
It was a collision of so many irregular circumstances. My girlfriend picked me up from my evening class, and instead of going straight home, we went to the grocery store. When we got back to the apartment, I was concerned with carrying all the groceries in a single trip, because I am a man, and men don’t take two trips to carry in the groceries. In doing so, I left my laptop bag sitting in the passenger seat. I didn’t realize that I’d left it in the car until right before I was getting into bed — I like to have Netflix on as I fall asleep. By then, though, I was tired and decided I’d grab it in the morning. But when Ashley went out to her car, she saw some dick bag had gone through it. Some chode-licking, anal fissured, crusty shit stain had wandered by, presumably during a time when the security guards that stand on every street corner around USC weren’t active, and broke into Ashley’s car and swiped my fucking laptop.
It was a new laptop. My 7-year-old macbook finally gave up the ghost last summer, and I was without a laptop for a whole semester. I bought this new laptop — admittedly not a top-of-the-line machine, but it was mine and I had important things on it — at the beginning of this semester. Like, I had it for a single goddamn month. It was a month-old laptop. But it’s not even just the loss of the value of the laptop. It’s that some bumblefuck fucking took it — took my shit! Fuck. Me.
So I’m working on getting over this, obviously with little success. At some point, I need to channel this rage into something productive, but it feels too volatile to handle at the moment. To shoehorn this life event into the actual topic of this blog, I’ve been thinking about the sort of rage and emotions that have prompted a wide range of responses to Trump’s various actions in the past week. Someone recently told me that it’s important to not let our emotions get too out of hand when unpackaging these news stories, and I suppose that’s what I’m trying to do with this latest situation. Calling this errant thief all sorts of pejorative terms makes me feel a little better, but at some point, I’ve got to put down this emotion and get to work.
In the realm of national politics, though, I’m not sure if it’s time to put down the anger. Some people, like Jake Fuentes, argue that our anger, the marching, and the protests are all playing into the hands of the Trump administration. This rebuttal from Politico’s Sam Kriss points out that this might be a little tinfoil hatty, but even worse, promotes a kind of defeatism: if we can’t protest, what can we do? If our every reaction to Trump regime announcements is foreseen and planned for, the only correct action is inaction; that’s unacceptable to me. It’s actually one of my great fears that the momentum from the Women’s March will be lost, as people put down their anger and tire of the fight, or feel like they’ve done all they can. I can be defeated over the loss of my laptop, but we, as a nation, can’t be defeated because there’s something that we can do, and that’s, at very least, to continue to let the people in charge know, with our loudest voice, that they can’t run roughshod over our rights and freedoms as human beings. Which is sort of vague, but I think if we can just manage to stay angry, we’ll figure out the details as we go.
So, in conclusion, some things are okay to be mad about, and some things you have to let go. Looks like I found the theme for the next Disney musical.
Anyway, thanks for listening to me bitch. Next week will be better.