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It was barely dusk when I was talking to my aunt in her bedroom, when my uncle came in and said one of his construction workers was mugged by four guys barely two blocks from the house. He was beaten to the ground, and refused to give them anything of his. Just as one of the guys took out a gun, a car passed by, witnessed the scene, and honked their horn. The guys ran off; the worker called the police, and stuff and stuff. The police officer told the worker his report will be one of a few hundred; these incidents have been happening very often in this particular area the past month.
I am not allowed out if it is just starting to get dark or later, and I really dont mind this rule. I had planned to adhere to it, whether it was offical or not.
Police came to one of the college buildings; apparently, somone had attempted to enter with no school ID, and on top of that, had a gun on them. *shakes head*
It is now that I fully realize just how bad this neighborhood/Jersy City is. I figured people were fretting about stereotypes, projects always = drug dealings and shootings, blah blah blah. Yes, I see a lot of drug stuffs happening, and I do see a lot of people openly toting guns, but I figured I was fine if I didnt wander around the projects late at night, as that is when all the stuff happends, the time when the police and the ambulance always come. I figured I was pretty much safe if I walked to and from anywhere with some sense of awareness (Duh Aleia, dont walk near those groups of people screaming and fighting!) and kept to myself; dont bother anyone, and people will leave me alone.
I want- no, I need to transfer to somewhere far away, after this semester. I know, just because it happends to other people isnt a garentee it will happen to me, but I- bleh. Just whatever.
I have taken note in the past few months, my uncle rages at the drop of a hat. Seems to reach 7-8 on the rage scale in 2.5 seconds, more if his anger is actually justified.
Eh. Tis why I avoid talking to him if it isnt extremly necessary. And I mean extremly. I rarely ever ask for money myself for extremely important things. I, ah, hmm..*mumbles*
I dont know why I am rambling all this. This feeling I have inside, I dont quite know what it is. It's rather vague, so I cant really give it a proper name. Or anything near it, so I wont really try.
Ah well.
Did you know:
There are 119 grooves on the edge of an American quarter.
Dragonflies have 6 legs but cannot walk.
I hate clowns. A lot.
The sight of blood doesnt bother me one bit.
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