Today I feel such a fraud. Everything in the news is about death and hunger and children dying.

Yet I...I slept till noon, and my hair is a rat's nest. I dined on rich coffee and milk and fresh squeezed orange juice. I lounged, and then slowly began my business routine of packing orders, for which I make too much money for the work I put in.

I've never gotten it, why some people work their hands to bone and never earn enough, and then people like me, right now, lounge, sell a few books, and are staunchly middle class with little to no effort--or those who are rich, even.

Why did my lawsuit win money when I can name at least one more seriously deserving woman, whose statutes have run? She was abused so terribly, her pain is so great, and her need is just as much or greater than mine. Why did I get money for my woes, and she gets nothing? It's just not fair.

And then, just within the group of people who were hurt by Scott, the youth who wreaked havoc in my church; I feel a fraud in this, as well. So many families were irrevocably devastated by his actions and the church's action (deny it if you will, you self-righteous hypocrites). Why am I the one who is finding healing? How did I get so lucky? Why was I born girl and only semi-disabled, so abused less horribly than those severely disabled boys? It makes me so confused. There is no symmetry.

I've always had an obsession with Robin Hood, ever since I played the computer game as a child. I want to take from the rich, and give to the poor, give the world some sense.

I've never taken a vow of poverty, but I have come to a tacit agreement with whatever love and fairness is out there that I'll do my little best, and with small steps and millions of networks, maybe together some of us can right some wrongs?

I don't know. I don't know at all.