You Can't Spell 'Bad Karma' without 'Kar'

So, listen, there's nothing particularly special about me.

I've not saved any lives (that I know of), given three years of my life to the Peace Corps (though I've seriously considered it), or operated an animal shelter out of my apartment (Maude notwithstanding).

But I do try to be a generally, inconspicuously "nice" person. I don't push people in line, wave my middle finger at drivers who cut me off, gossip about co-workers, or yell at telemarketers. But I will loan out my cell phone to people in distress; return lost animals to their home; pull over to help when I witness an accident; donate when charities send me things I didn't want or need; give up my seat on the train; etc.

I mean, I try to treat people as I'd like to be treated. And though I'm anything but perfect, I'd wager that — more often than not — I succeed in my efforts.

And, I swear, I don't expect anything back in return. Nothing at all.

It'd just be nice if, maybe from time to time, karma could remove its very large knife from my severely scarred (and increasingly spineless) back.

I mean, I've started recycling everything again (I did this before I moved here, but only recently figured out how the recycling system worked in this city). I now use reusable shopping bags when I don't need plastic ones; and most recently I started volunteering at a tutoring center that primarily assists inner city kids.

But would you like to know what happened the first night I tutored there?

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Any guesses?

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If you went with, "I bet someone hit her (new) car and didn't leave a note" — you win!

They left their paint on my car; took some of mine; and left a nice dent where the front bumper meets the side panel.

The best part: I was in a parking garage in which half of the spaces were open. So these people don't even have the excuse of "tapping" my car while trying to maneuver into a tight spot. Only thing that could've happened was the result of complete and total carelessness. Changing the dial on their radio while pulling out, looking down to check cell phone messages, etc.

In any event, this is the fourth time my car has been hit — and no note left — in the four months I've had it.

At this rate, I'll be lucky if it's still running in a year.

Now before you lecture me on the general state of world affairs, you should know that I realize there are people out there who have it far worse. People who face seriously difficult circumstances every day of their lives. People who would think that, by comparison, I've lived a fairly privileged life.

And, in many ways, I have.

But I'm also a big believer that if we all treated one another a bit better, the general cosmic vibe would improve substantially, making life better all around.

So, please, Karma — if you're listening — tell me what I need to do to make things suck a little less.

Thank you.

Nightmare on My Street

Almost a year ago to this very day, I abandoned the (not so) ExpressWay that marred my daily commute — taking anywhere from 40 minutes (rare) to 2 hours to travel one way (I've had it take 3-4 hours when the weather is bad) — in favor of a single side street that was a reliable 45-50 minute commute each way.

I mean, on this alternative route there's only one lane 80% of the time, and the speed limit is always 30 mph (though in some stretches it's easy to get away with 40)... yet you're moving almost constantly, and are considerably less agitated by the time you arrive to wherever it is you're going. And, sure, occasionally there are problems and interludes of road rage, but those moments are few and far between in comparison to the "Express"Way.

The added bonus: if traffic sucks and you want a diversion, you have the opportunity to turn off every 1/4 mile or so, which compares to the "Express"Way where there are only 5 or 6 exits on a 20 mile stretch (in other words: if things tank... you're stuck).

After months of taking the "Express"Way, my alternative route bordered on a godsend. I didn't look back and haven't bothered to take the "Express"Way since — excepting rare times when I was was traveling between 10 a.m. and 2 p.m. (a wide-open pocket of opportunity for comparably "fast" travel).

But, alas, my solace is no more.

You see, the "Express"Way is undergoing construction... a minimum of one lane down in both directions at all times — and two out of three lanes down late in the evening.

They're telling people to not even bother taking the "Express"Way, and this morning as early as 5:50 a.m., traffic was already in the red.

How does this impact me, you ask, since I don't take the "Express"Way?

I'll give you one guess as to the officially sanctioned alternative route for people traveling from my section of the city, and heading anywhere in the same general direction.

Yes. That's right.

I left 15 minutes early today and was still 15 minutes late.

Now, before you tell me I should take the train or ride my bike, you should know I would *love* to do either... or any combination thereof. But I live nowhere near a train stop that goes in the same direction of where I work, and between the transfers and buses and shuttles I'd take, that commute is estimated at just over 2 hours one way.

As for cycling.... I live 20 miles from work, and we have no shower facilities. Couple that with the fact that there aren't any nearby bike paths linking my home to work (in fact, I'd be on busy city streets about 1/2 of the time, and then dark forest preserves the second half), and that alternative isn't safe, either.

But that's not all!

The news just keeps getting better....

Three weeks ago I ordered a new computer, as my home machine has been giving me serious problems. I was even worried enough about it that I tried backing up some of my files multiple times, but there's a short somewhere on my machine, and it randomly shuts off, making it impossible to do anything.

But I got an e-mail yesterday telling me my new computer was finally on its way and I was ordering a new electrical cord for the old one (where I believe the short to be) so, never fear, I'll be able to transfer everything to my new machine in 3-5 days. Right?

Right?!

Nope.

Because, last night, all of my files disappeared.

All of them.

My master's thesis. All my old papers. All my stories, my poems, my e-mails, my pictures and my music.

It's all gone.

So much for getting a big hard drive on my new machine. Looks like I don't have anything to put on there.

And, now, before you tell me I'm over-reacting and it's no big deal....

I'm a writer. A photographer and, above all other things,

A sentimentalist.

I'm just hoping the Geek Squad can help without causing too much financial damage (though, honestly, I'll "charge" whatever it takes). Cause between the new car, computer and camera (why does everything have to break at once?!!)... I may just have to cut food, health care and Christmas out of my budget.

Not a Good Day

Ever have one of those days when you know you're screwed before you even get out of bed?

Like, say, you wake up in the middle of the night to an aftermath of cat vomit, and then later you wake up in a jolt, coughing so hard you honest-to-god worry that your lungs are about to make their grand debut outside of your body cavity?

And what if said coughing fit was immediately preceded by a dream whereby you began choking to death?

And what if, say, you normally set two alarms at night — the "hey, you should get up soon" alarm, and then another that chimes in at the last minute telling you you have to get up, or else — and then you realize at 6:40 a.m. (starring groggy-eyed at the alarm) that you forgot to set Alarm #2 and so only have 10 minutes to get out of bed and get ready for work?

And what if, in your haste, you left your apartment without the Nalgene bottle full of water you pack daily, or even your lunch?

And then, midway to work you pass a gas station and realize gas has finally come down a few cents and — thank God! — you're almost on empty and so will need to fill up when you go out for lunch (you'll have to go out for lunch, after all, since you didn't have time to pack one).

So you make a mental note to yourself, work up a thirst by sprinting from the parking lot to your desk, and then reach for your wallet so you can buy some water only to realize...

That...

Yes...

Your wallet isn't there.

So you go through the permutations of where it might be and are gripped with the terrible fear that you may have dropped it when you briefly went out last night to run an errand — because you're about 90% certain it was in your bag then.

So you call the only person who has spare keys to your apartment. Their work whistle blows about 90 minutes later than yours, so you're hoping they're nearby and can "go check" for that elusive wallet, full of credit cards, cash and — yes — your driver's license.

But the phone just rings. And rings.

And rings.

And you're out of gas. And you have no water, no lunch, no breakfast.

You return to your car, search for your wallet (no luck), and count your spare change (intended for laundry tonight), rationing out enough (you hope) for a couple gallons of gas and (you think) a bottle of water.

And then you remember that gas is $3.14 a gallon, not $2.

But 1 gallon, coupled with the 1/2 you already have in there should be more than enough.

Right?

Right?!

Yes. You tell yourself.

It will be enough.

You log in to your credit accounts online to see if there are any charges you didn't approve (in case you did lose it last night after all).

Nothing so far.

So maybe it's home on top of your desk.

Maybe it's not.

Because even though the circumstances of the day are entirely your doing you know that, most often, the consequences are not.

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But, anyway. I don't know about you, but I hate days like that.