7:41 a.m. - June 05, 2003
Anonymous envelopes bode ill
Someone's playing games with me and I don't like it; it is neither funny nor touching. I don't appreciate it at all. It's someone who doesn't know me well and has my telephone number and knows me at least well enough to send an article titled "How top executives manage to do it all" subtitled "Sucess today is the time you spend doing what you want."
Evidently someone who reads this journal, perchance.
The handwritten note is a graphological boon: Jason, try this - it's really good! with an unidentifiable initial following. Postmarked Santa Ana, California, May 28th.
It is the envelope and address that bother me most; it is typewritten - more IBMSelectric than ancient device - addressed to a Jason P. ----- (last name). It's a tell-tale - everybody who knows me well enough to send me something knows my middle intitial because I use it all the time and when somebody doesn't, I make sure to inform my preferences. However, my middle initial is not P.; were one to look on an online service matching my telephone number, it comes up as a Jason P. ----- (last name).
I'd much prefer were the perpetrator - ha, I meant to say person - to simply ask my last name, address, whichever, rather than being sly. And for the record, Mr. or Mrs. Internet Snoop, I am not 34, 42, or 56 years old, despite what the internet directories state. If you read my journal you know my penchant for obfuscating surveys.
If you didn't know me that well, you had no right invading my privacy and mail box - again, another addressing error - and inchoate notions of privacy and security.
I think I know who did it, and that disturbs me a great deal.
It's the not knowing that bothers me most and is the immediately visible comprehension that I can be jerked around by others' whims. Yes, yes, let it slide, no biggie, right? Not for me, not now, not yet, maybe some day.
