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Glock 26

Image via Wikipedia

Ah life is so gentle and I live in such a “safe” neighborhood. Not.

2 days ago someone rudely went into a shop in my neighborhood, held up the owner with a gun, tied her up and robbed her. Isn’t that nice? Our sweet, little village is just another statistic, just another place where you have to lock your doors and be suspicious of just about everyone.

The other day someone invited me to a wine tasting at a mall in Santa Monica. She sort of scoffed at me when I said I didn’t feel safe in those kinds of places. But hey, it’s the truth. I figure I’m one step away from someone about to go postal and I do not want to die in a mall.

When you have been the victim of a violent crime you are privy to a side of life that most people happily ignore. I mean why should we think about how ugly things can be? Who wants to walk around with that kind of burden? I sure don’t, but I don’t have a choice. I know how easy it is for people to snap these days and I don’t want to be there when it happens. This doesn’t mean that I am a total recluse but for the most part I suppose I am. Sorry but that’s just the way it is.

For if I had been in that store, and that dude had tied me up and robbed me, I’d have to be heavily medicated and perhaps in a straight jacket for the rest of my life. That or I’d arm myself. But I’m not a violent person so running around town with ammo isn’t the way I want to live out my days. Drooling and finger painting is fine with me.

Gavin de Becker spoke about trusting your intuition in his book The Gift Of Fear. Intuition can come across as paranoia. Your friends may think you paranoid but it is that natural instinct for danger that is there for a reason: to protect you.

Think what you like, compare your horror stories as if it were a competition and ignore the dude with the funny look on his face. Call me paranoid, I really don’t mind – my paranoia just might keep me alive longer.

These are perilous times.

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