Goes around Comes around
I had a minor freak out when the Mayor arrived at our office for his usual meeting and a technical error kept me from finding out what conference room to send him too. It was great. I want a job where I can do that more often. I want to be Pepper Polts from Iron Man.
A while back I called non-emergency to report a homeless man sleeping in the dog park. My friends, who are more street-wise than me, laughed at me for this. But they do not live in Belltown and they have no stake in the dog park. They also do not understand the 911 dispatch system or that police will respond to priority calls first. They do not know that there is a thin line separating what is going on outside the fence from the happy dogs inside.
If I let the man sleep there that time, why shouldn't I next time? Why not let more people sleep there? Then the park becomes unpleasant and stinky. Nobody will bring their dogs. The drug-dealers will start to move in.
The dog park is my backyard and I don't want that spiral to start. I am frustrated at my friends for laughing at me.
Today a man was sleeping in the park again. A gentleman from the bus stop helped me politely wake him and send him on his way. So very grateful, I am.
Later I saw the same homeless man selling Real Change. I gave him a dollar.
I can see someone reading this and making fun of me. I hate that my small efforts to keep my neighborhood livable are a joke. It bothers me that wanting a clean street somehow means I hate homeless people, or even drug dealers.
Yesterday I had to walk through a tense scene to get to the dog park. As far as I could tell, some people were beating up a dog owner. The dog attacked the attackers who then started hitting the dog with a sandwich board. The police were just arriving and I had to worm my way through these angry people and their dogs.
I'm not complaining because I choose to live here. But why shouldn't expect the best from my neighborhood and do my little part to maintain it?
P.S. These last few entries are misleadingly depressing. I'm actually very happy with my apartment, my neighborhood, my job, and my relationships. I'll have to write something uplifting next.
A while back I called non-emergency to report a homeless man sleeping in the dog park. My friends, who are more street-wise than me, laughed at me for this. But they do not live in Belltown and they have no stake in the dog park. They also do not understand the 911 dispatch system or that police will respond to priority calls first. They do not know that there is a thin line separating what is going on outside the fence from the happy dogs inside.
If I let the man sleep there that time, why shouldn't I next time? Why not let more people sleep there? Then the park becomes unpleasant and stinky. Nobody will bring their dogs. The drug-dealers will start to move in.
The dog park is my backyard and I don't want that spiral to start. I am frustrated at my friends for laughing at me.
Today a man was sleeping in the park again. A gentleman from the bus stop helped me politely wake him and send him on his way. So very grateful, I am.
Later I saw the same homeless man selling Real Change. I gave him a dollar.
I can see someone reading this and making fun of me. I hate that my small efforts to keep my neighborhood livable are a joke. It bothers me that wanting a clean street somehow means I hate homeless people, or even drug dealers.
Yesterday I had to walk through a tense scene to get to the dog park. As far as I could tell, some people were beating up a dog owner. The dog attacked the attackers who then started hitting the dog with a sandwich board. The police were just arriving and I had to worm my way through these angry people and their dogs.
I'm not complaining because I choose to live here. But why shouldn't expect the best from my neighborhood and do my little part to maintain it?
P.S. These last few entries are misleadingly depressing. I'm actually very happy with my apartment, my neighborhood, my job, and my relationships. I'll have to write something uplifting next.