Pretty much everybody in the country is aware of what’s happened today/yesterday
right now in Washington, DC. At the time of my writing – from my office, no less – the news has confirmed that 12 people have been killed by possible three gunmen, one of which has allegedly been killed. [Update (504pm)...it's an nword. Of course it's an nword. For some reason, we've really been trying our hand at these made for television crime sprees. I'm fairly certain we can trace this back to the rise of DipSet. I can't prove it, but I'm saying.]
I, along with a solid couple thousand individuals, work less than a mile from where the mayhem has been taking place and I’m not even the least bit concerned. The thing is, I have every reason to be concerned. I’m less than a mile away. The persons responsible could literally be on the run right now heading anywhere. Who knows? But I have reached this unhealthy part of my life where I’m completely desensitized. As long as I know my kid is cool I’m like…blah.
When I first heard about it this morning before I got to work I was concerned that my commute would be hampered by the chaos. To be fair, at that point, there were no reported fatalities. I recognized it as a tragedy and I’d never wish anybody to be shot. And yet, as close at is is to me, it seems so far away. Just like most other tragedies. I don’t know if this reflects age, cynicism, or whatever. When 9/11 happened I remember being terrified.
Same thing with the DC Sniper.
I will say that the Newtown shootings did hurt. There’s something about the deaths of children, no matter the circumstance, that is heart-wrenching.
Years ago, I wrote a post on my old site about the neighborhood I was living in at the time. In the 4-years that I’d lived there, at least 10 people had been murdered in the mile strip between the two major roads that bounded my complex. Not all happened in the complex, but one person was arsoned. One person literally tried to drive a car through one of the buildings. Mind you, I lived in one of those complexes that was built with cinderblock siding. Point being, there was more damaged done to the car than the building but damage is damage. My roommate’s car was stolen 3 times during our stay there; twice right out of parking lot. In fact, once, I got home at 430pm and didn’t see his car. I walked in and he was there. Apparently his car was stolen in the 30 minutes between when he got there (4pm) and when I got there.
And do you know, he wasn’t even pissed. Just frustrated that his car was stolen again. I wrote in that post that I kind of wished I was one of those people who was upset and angry when stuff like this happened. Basically, I wanted to be a white suburban woman who was motivated to start a Neighborhood Watch as opposed to being a young urban youth who was like, “they didn’t get me? cool.”
Because somebody was getting got. Get it?
Point is, apparently I’ve been this way for quite some time. But it seems a bit more of an issue now that I’m literally within walking distance of a national news story raught with tragedy and I’m checking on it every few hours or as somebody calls to make sure I’m good.
This concerns me. It concerns me more than I’m concerned about Kanye after his rant at the Pusha T album listening party. And I’m plenty concerned about Kanye. He’ll never get the credit, but he’s damn near on Chris Brown levels at times in terms of “lock him up for a bit just for his own sake…” Plus after his vocal change on the Kris Jenner show…you know what? This isn’t about Kanye.
I’m not proud of this, but hearing about 40 shootings and/or killings in Chicago on a weekend doesn’t even shock me. And it should. I should be outraged. I should be appalled. And I’m not. Not even close. I’m just a dude in an office reading a website about a news story in my backyard and realizing that tomorrow will be another news story about something else that shouldn’t have happened but did.
If though I try not to think about it too much too much tooo muuuuuuch, I may need therapy.
Am I alone here? What’s the pulse here? Are we all just desensitized unless its so far beyond our comprehension that we have no choice but to be scared? Does anything shock you anymore?
(I promise not to write about death tomorrow. Cross my heart…)
-VSB P aka THE ARSONIST aka lower.case.p aka GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRL HE A 3