On Being Mugged
In my last weekly happenings, I referred to a story of how A. was mugged here in Baltimore. Mugging is something I have thought about often here, frequently during the walks back from sadeyedartist's house at night. I have never had even the slightest fear of cities. I have been in some dangerous ones in both North and South America. I never feel nervous. I tend to walk around as if I own the place. I've never run into any problems. But that of course is not an indication that nothing ever will happen. The fact of the matter is that a large proportion of grad. students are mugged during their stay here, and Baltimore has one of the highest crime rates in the nation. Yes, I live in a safer neighborhood, but neighborhood lines are blurry things.
Anyhow, I am a vicious fighter. I think it is that "little dog" effect -- you know, how the little dogs are the more yippy. I have always relied on speed, agility, flexibility, endurance, and guts over brute force in any endeavor -- and it serves me well. I also have a hard time play-fighting, because I try too hard. There is no middle ground for me. (Not that I have been in altogether many real fights....)
I have violent dreams sometimes. They usually involve me defending someone I love. I cannot say for certain, as it has never happened, but I think that I would violently and viciously defend sadeyedartist, if ever the need arose. However, if not defending anyone else, I tend to avoid such conflicts; I would turn the other cheek -- or ignore.
So what would I do were I mugged. Again, if sadeyedartist were with me, I'd be concerned with her safety. But were I alone, I wonder what I would do. I would likely not fight, but I'm not sure whether I would cooperate either. My mind would probably begin contriving a way to get the guy arrested. Yeah, this would be dangerous, but it seems like what I would do.
I would not fight back. I was impressed by the story jeltzz told a while back (I'd link to it, but I can't find the entry.) about how he thought it right not to fight back. I think I would do the same...
...with one exception. If I had my laptop with me, I would fight till my last. Why? Because for me, my laptop contains my work, my creations. It is more than just a possession; it contains irreplaceable things that in a sense are a part of me. My poems, my stories, my translations, my musings, my languages, my worlds, my letters. They are memories in a written form, and as I've said before[1], memory makes me who I am. Take my money; don't take my memories... unless you want to fight.
Anyhow, I am a vicious fighter. I think it is that "little dog" effect -- you know, how the little dogs are the more yippy. I have always relied on speed, agility, flexibility, endurance, and guts over brute force in any endeavor -- and it serves me well. I also have a hard time play-fighting, because I try too hard. There is no middle ground for me. (Not that I have been in altogether many real fights....)
I have violent dreams sometimes. They usually involve me defending someone I love. I cannot say for certain, as it has never happened, but I think that I would violently and viciously defend sadeyedartist, if ever the need arose. However, if not defending anyone else, I tend to avoid such conflicts; I would turn the other cheek -- or ignore.
So what would I do were I mugged. Again, if sadeyedartist were with me, I'd be concerned with her safety. But were I alone, I wonder what I would do. I would likely not fight, but I'm not sure whether I would cooperate either. My mind would probably begin contriving a way to get the guy arrested. Yeah, this would be dangerous, but it seems like what I would do.
I would not fight back. I was impressed by the story jeltzz told a while back (I'd link to it, but I can't find the entry.) about how he thought it right not to fight back. I think I would do the same...
...with one exception. If I had my laptop with me, I would fight till my last. Why? Because for me, my laptop contains my work, my creations. It is more than just a possession; it contains irreplaceable things that in a sense are a part of me. My poems, my stories, my translations, my musings, my languages, my worlds, my letters. They are memories in a written form, and as I've said before[1], memory makes me who I am. Take my money; don't take my memories... unless you want to fight.