Time flies when you're getting robbed.

Luck is truly a matter of subjectivity. I'm tremendously fortunate that the two taxis drag racing outside my window did not choose to pick things up a notch and take on my wall of plaster. This would more than likely destroy the out-of-place yusuke urameshi poster above me, a spanish periodic table of elements to my right and the bed upon which I sit in the process. Talk about luck. Luck "is what you make of it" or "you make your own", to summarize paradoxical arguments reflecting ideologies of star-aligned destiny and that of coin-flipping Harvey Dent. I'm still undecided. Regardless, luck (or life) struck twice negatively in the past week. I'm a driver's license, a Chilean ID, 40,000 Pesos, a cell phone, an assortment of gift cards, and two wallets poorer as a result, but still like my odds. More or less, I came out of this unscathed and maybe a tad wiser. This is not an attempt to woe is me myself, more of an effort to relay two recent events that unfortunately turned out to be unfortunate. As the Chileans say, "Ah, ya."