My feet failed me |12:55 AM|
(By the way, if this entry seems a bit choppy, it's edited from a conversation I had with another person about the incident)
I failed to catch a criminal. Some asshole was breaking this guy's windshield and other windows on his car. I realized what he was doing when his getaway vehicle pulled up, and he jumped into it. I was at Vorpal's apartment, and we had heard the smashing noises. So I look out and immediately realize something Bad is going on.
Vorpal says "What's going on?" (as I'm slamming on my shoes)
Me: "Dunno. It's criminal! See ya!"
Off I went. I'm bolting through the apartment complex.I cut through one building only to find a dead end. I turn around, keep running, find the right way...I just wanted a picture of his plates I couldn't read them before, too dark. Either a picture, or a good guess at what they were I didn't want to engage them, that'd be tremendously stupid.
I'm running, and are met with a 6 foot tall goddamn wall. Oh, and it's topped with a 4 foot tall metal fence. I scale the wall, jump the fence And I'm in the pool area. it's got those damn metal button keypads to lock it, for safety reasons or something. I get to one of them, find it locked, curse, and try to jump the damn thing (the poles at the top were taller, more hazardous of a jump) I start to vault it when it pops open.
FUCK
...and I almost fall on my ass. I can see the parking lot, I can see the truck It's exiting the complex
If they had gotten a red light, I would have had them But nooooo.
It was green, and they were gone. Told the cops my part of the story when they got there. It was clearly someone the car owner knew, as it was targeted, and not a theft. Hopefully the cops will tell the guy, and the guy will say "Oh yeah, white guy, dark blue ford pickup. I know just who that is"
As I was running, I was thinking "A green pickup with a shitty muffler is the car of the guy that stole my stereo so long ago. Damn them. VENGENCE IS MINE!" Sure, not the same guy, but in the great swirling crap shoot that is life, it would balance.
Hopefully, the guy will get nailed for this.
Cowards should always pay.
PAAAAAAY
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Ego Stroke, and the real world question |12:50 AM|
Vorpal was interviewing me for a school project (He'd had his other options cancelled on him, and thus he profiled me as an internet vagabond). The above story happened while I was there, but during the course of conversations about people across the damn country, and if it was at all possible to maintain a friendship with them, the whole damn "living in the real world" issue came up again.
I immediately spat out a line that I think works, "The real world is not a place you should run to".
Yeah, I know I ended it with a preposition, I'm working on it.
Still, using "living in the real world" as the reason you don't want to take any risks just rubs me the wrong way. It seems more like "I'm comfortable in the reality I have built for myself".
Sheesh, am I a person that should talking about taking risks, or dealing with reality?
Clearly, the conversation had turned to people meeting online, then meeting in real life, with the "Real World" being the huge gulfs of distances that often seperated these people.
The only term for it is "lucked out" but I don't exactly believe in luck. However, any way you look at it, I met a nice woman online, in an improbably fashion, she lives in town, and we're doing swell. So I'm not in a position to judge folks about long distance relathionships.
Hold your breath |11:04 AM|
I use the term "Take a bullet for" an awful lot, as a description of how I much of a damn I give about someone.
It works well, since if you were to actually take a bullet for someone, it would require immediate, selfless action. There wouldn't be time to weigh possible options, you've got to jump right in front of the guy in the clown suit with the gun and try to take it in a less-vital organ.
This raises a couple issues, like, why don't I push the person out of the way of the bullet? To this I answer, "I'd probably end up pushing them in front of a car, and then I'd feel terrible. And shot." Why should I take the bullet? "Because I know how to be hurt a lot better than I know how to comfort the injured."
So the last couple paragraphs were half joking, as I seriously doubt the issue of someone I know being shot at will come up at all. Much less, a situation in which I can throw myself in front of the shot in time. But an issue that's raised is who exactly qualifies for my use as a bullet shield? I would at first say my closest friends and family, but if I was on the street and the issue arose, would I just stand by and let some other jack ass get shot? All you can really do at that point is yell, or try to shove the target, or... nothing else really.
I'm clearly just rambling. I was just mulling this over, just thinking about what a person would have to do or say for me to think "Well, gosh, that guy's about to shoot 'em. Too bad." As oppossed to throwing myself toward the attacker (As I would have done previously). The immediate instinct to protect and defend remains my default, and I guess someone would have to really piss me off before I'd think twice, or think at all, in that situation.
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Monday, March 17, 2003
At the Doc. |7:29 PM|
I was at the doctor's office this afternoon, and saw a relatively typical scene. A teenager growing close to the end of teenager-type years was berating her ever-suffering mother. At first I thought it was a joke (So ridiculously cliched were the barbs the girl spat out), but then realized the girl was very serious, and the mother was actually crying. At this point, the girl was called back by another doctor that works in the same office as mine. (A family therapist? A psychologist? I don't know). The mother continued to quietly weep, and sniffle.
I felt obligated to do something, but I have no training, and who knows what kind of shitstorm I would unleash. By my actions I could fuck up whatever therapy was going on there. I struggled with this idea for a while, I wanted to say "It gets better" to the mom. Goodness knows, when I was a bit younger than that girl I was spewing vile things at my mother. I stopped being psychotic at some point, and things did get better. I wanted to re-assure her, but I couldn't think of a proper way. Besides, she was here for therapy, she was clearly trying to fix whatever it was that was wrong.
I found out pretty fast what the issue was. The mother was called back, and the girl was sent to the waiting room. I was reading some current events magazine, so I had made no effort to engage her in conversation. She asked me if I had a lighter (For the first time in recent memory, I was without a source of fire), and once I told her so, she had to find a new avenue of conversation. She asked me where I worked, and I explained my job. (I went into as little detail as possible, as my job description is lethally boring). Once she found out the name of the company, she began telling me about a friend of hers that worked there. Among his attributes was an IQ of between 160 and 180, was born with a tail, was responsible for Gates' (Bill, I suppose) being incredibly wealthy, and was about to engage in a scheme that would bilk this large company out of great deal of money. When I looked at her in an unusual fashion, she quickly stated that it would only be taking from the big wigs' funds, not the little guys.
From there she lamented this company's oppression of the common man. After finishing that rant, she described acts of random destruction and vandalism that she and her pals had perpetrated, including some against the car of the owner of this large company.
With any luck, she was just delusional. I'm glad I didn't say anything to the mom, her daughter's issues run a bit deeper than I believed at first.
If you're at all curious, I did start to take note of her outfit. A wispy miniskirt, odd sandles, and...what the fuck? A visor upside down and backwards on her head?! Her shirt was transparent in the back, making it clear she was going around bra-less, and the front of it was a highly reflective. It was a shirt to attract the attention of monkeys. Reflective, colorfull, covering her tits.
This was a girl from whom I would want to keep my distance. She left when her mother left, pausing only to introduce herself. With my luck, I'll run into her 3 more times this week.
In other news:
Hygiene challenged jack ass uses goth wannabe for a doorstop.Film at 11.
Dammit |12:16 AM|
I was supposed to a variety of things this evening, but I just got back from being really, really, fucking lost. I took a couple wrong turns getting back from Vid's place, and all of a sudden I was in Nowhere.
I do mean to capitalize that, because there was almost nothing out there. No gas stations to stop at, no grocery stores to question, no police cars to pester. Oh, and no road or city signs. I had absolutely no damned idea where I was, other than that I might have passed through Hutto. I'm not sure where Hutto is, but I know Vorpal won $20 for knowing its location, so when he wakes up I'll ask him.
Anyway you slice it, I have a headache from being utterly lost and low on gas. So I may go directly to bed, and wake up tommorow. There is baking to do.
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Sunday, March 16, 2003
A new coat of paint on the ego. |1:07 PM|
Hey, I just noticed I used "threw" instead of "through" on the last post! I'm a GENIUS!
PortalStar has been doing a large painting for the last several months, and aside from being really pretty, it also features me. She had mentioned using an old picture of me for reference, but I didn't realize the extent until I saw the almost finished product last night.
