Mar. 17th, 2006

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I'm not home much on weekend nights, and I forget sometimes that my neighborhood is a bit, well, rough.

Laying in bed reading, I discerned at the very edge of my hearing voices in the distance. Shouting? Screaming? So faint I couldn't tell. But the three shots that followed seemed clear enough. I didn't call the cops, as it was far enough away, I was certain 20 other closer people would call in the next 10 seconds. Then I felt guilty for not calling. But the last time I delayed and then called, they had definitely gotten plenty of calls, so I'm trying to let it go. But it did freak me out enough that I turned off the lights and listened more. Nothing. Then a loud sound closer to my house, but what I do not know.

I came in here to see if I could find anything on the news, but my ideas about how fast information should travel are clearly unrealistic.

I don't like feeling crappy and scared and alone on a Friday night. It is very unpleasant. I also don't like that one side of my head is all dried out, while the other is burning and liquidy. But I guess I should just be happy that my life has not brought me to a point where gun violence is immediate, rather than peripheral.

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