There's bad luck, and then there's stupidity, and then there's the particularly unfortunate combination of both. You know that quote about the universe conspiring for your heart's desire? Sometimes, it seems the universe does conspire. Against you.

While I'm not really a material girl, I do value my things. Mostly for sentimental reasons. Sometimes when I'm bored, I look through my bag and reminisce about each item's origin. I take pride in being more street smart than most people, I walk fast, keep my things where I can see them, and for the most part, attached to me. I once got scolded in college for not removing my bag from my lap the entire class. But could I be blamed? Valuables often went missing, even on campus.

I've lost things before, once, a wallet that fell out of my pocket in a movie house. I can't remember what movie it was, but I remember I had a ticket to RENT in that wallet. It was free from some goodie bag and it had South Park characters on it. I also lost my phone in high school, it had fallen out of my bag in one classroom. Mang Jose, a dear fellow, found me and returned it to me saying he knew it was my seat where he found the phone.

I had also lost a wallet previous to that, at the 2001 U.P. fair. Someone thought it would be a brilliant idea to open my bag, and everything fell to the dusty ground. Also lost in that incident were my friend's phone, and her shoe. It's funny now, but at the time, believe me, it was hard to laugh.

I've been held up, too, and I remember it clearly. Everything went in slow motion, and I glimpsed the thief’s eyes which were red and looked even more afraid than I was. Other than those incidents, I haven't lost anything else, until last Friday.

I was watching Arigato Hato at their send-off gig at The Collective in Makati. If you haven't been there, you should know that it's the sort of place where thieves would find better luck stealing anyone else's stuff, not mine.

I was taking videos for the article I was planning to write. My friend got his camera from my bag, where I had been keeping it safe, then he went off to take some pictures. He returned as the song was ending - it was Mister Music Maker, then I pressed stop on the office-issued phone I was using to video, slid the phone in my bag which I had placed on the speaker platform behind me and probably said something to my friend. This sounds very dimwitted, but the next thing I knew, my bag was gone.

Common sense told me whoever took it had left the scene (and the scenesters who all seemed to enjoying the show), but the part of me that believes in Santa Claus was hoping it was a friend playing a prank. It wasn't. It's been almost a week, and my bag has most definitely disappeared. As for its contents, they've probably been sold, or disposed of. The painful part is, my treasure has most likely been trashed. It's almost as painful as the fact that I've resorted to speaking in cliches. At this point, you should stop reading if you hate cliches.

There's no use crying over spilt milk, so I didn't cry. But, when life hands you lemons, make lemonade. Or better, get a tequila shot. In this case, I wrote about it and came up with this letter.

Dear person who stole my bag,

I'm pretty sure it was that office-issued phone you wanted. Part of me wishes you had just asked for it instead of getting my whole bag. I mean, that was a pretty huge bag, man. Or woman. You know, we used to trade bags to make character sketches. If you were to make a character sketch of me, you hit gold. Now you know my six names, the street where I grew up on, my father's residence. In case of emergency, call him. No, really. He's a doctor.

You also know what I had for lunch yesterday, it's written on the receipt in my wallet. well, one of the receipts in my wallet. As you can see, I keep all my receipts. Not particularly to keep track of expenses, but to save paper. I'm rather fond of writing miniscule notes to people. And postcards. There are pictures of those in the phone-the one that caught your attention. You'll also see pictures of the person those postcards are for, he sent me a few, for my eyes only. Stop looking.

Back to what I had for lunch. It was Kangkong Singapura, sounds fancy, right? You see, the canteen at my place of work isn't called Creative Concepts for nothing. Oh yes, you can also see that I work for a website. You also have my media ID, my school ID, and my alumni ID. Those are in my other wallet, the pretty plastic one, with girls doing laundry. There's a picture of my daughter in there, look at her smile. This morning she asked me, mama, why did the bad person steal your bag? I told her that the bad person might have been hungry. Well, if you were hungry, there isn't much to eat in there.

You can see, I only have around 500 pesos in there, and my latest ATM receipt will tell you I don't have much left to withdraw. Would you like my ATM pin? It's only four digits, and it's the bank-released pin. I never got around to changing it. I also never got around to shaking the tobacco out of my bag - pardon the mess.

Oh yes, there's a barely smoked pack of cigarettes in there, and a lighter that says Pinoy ako forever. I usually stick vegetarian stickers on my lighter, but you got that one before I could do that. It would probably have told you that fish are friends, not food.

About that recorder, it looks like nothing but it's got a mean microphone. I used that for countless interviews - from my thesis on intercultural conflict management to recent things for work. You could go through the contents if you like, there are some monitoring tracks of dzBB, an interview with Noel Cabangon, Jess Santiago, and you can also listen to the opening of the Active Vista film festival. Ronnie Lazaro's speech is particularly funny, and Lourd de Veyra's delivery does justice to his biting humor like no one else's can. Go on, listen, you can't eat it but it will fill your mind. By the way, that recorder may look cheap, it can only hold 512mb. That's why there are only 11 tracks in there, which I've been listening to on repeat since March. The last one by Mike Benedicto is the most-played. Listen to it and tell me you can't stop. That recorder has a name, too. it's Leigh-Cherie, and it was a mothers' day gift to me from my mama, in 2005. It's been places and so has that bag.

So I guess you know I like to watch shows a lot. The tickets to Halaw and Sampaguita are there, and most recently, CATS. There's also a complimentary ticket for the Manilart fair at the end of the month. You should go, it'll be great. That ticket came from Egay Fernandez, by the way, so if you bump into him at the fair, say thank you. It's only polite.

You also have the keys to my house, and my sheep ring. I put it there because my fingers are too thin for rings. You can't tell from the photos of me - they're all ID pictures. But you have my sister's graduation pictures - she's pretty, isn't she? I used to always tell her to make sure her bag is in front of her. I guess I should have told myself that. But you see, I was tired, my back hurt, and I just wanted to take a video of Arigato Hato to embed in the article I was planning to write about the event. Right after Mister Music Maker, Michael got his camera from my bag, he went to take some pictures. I pressed stop on the video recorder and put the phone in my bag, then I guess that's when you quickly grabbed it and ran. Or maybe you didn't run. There were so many people and it should've been easy to disappear in the crowd. Before I forget, you might also want to watch the videos in there. The lighting is almost always too dark but the audio is excellent. You'll see lots of Outerhope and some Arigato Hato, but then you knew that already.

There's also a video of my daughter playing at home. Whoever you are, I hope you're happy. You see, I am. Despite the fact that I now have to deal with the inconvenience that comes with lost valuables, my life is pretty good. But then, you weren't asking.

P.S. In case you feel guilty and wish to return any or all of the above, well, call my Ma. Her number is there, in the phone. Not the one you wanted, the nondescript one. You could also just reply to her last message to me, I'm sure there's one. She worries about me, in fact you can see there's a message there about my lungs and liver. I wish you could realize that that's all you need, people who love you and care about you. I also wish you weren't so mean. Or desperate. I don't know. Who knows. Maybe you'll sell the phone and feed some hungry kids. That would be nice.