Livin' in the Ghetto

It's a lot funnier when Elvis or an overweight cartoon character sings it than to actually do it. By some dire mistake, I've moved to the ghetto. Not that the ghetto bothers me. I like my house. I like how there is a lot of shops and restaraunts within walking distance. I like how my house is old and not perfect, but looks pretty nice on the inside. It has a personality rather than being a Spanish filing cabinet like so many other places in San Diego. I don't mind the ghetto. I don't mind the weirdos talking to themself at the bus stop. I don't mind the overabundance of stinky Chicanos at the laundromat. I don't mind the mild graffiti. I don't mind the rice burners that fly by sounding like a weed eater at full power. I don't even mind the guy who comes every morning and digs through the small dumpster behind our lot looking for cans and other goodies. It's criminals that bother me.
One day a friend came over and asks me, "Do you feel safe here?" I'm not sure if he was being his usual latent-asshole self or asking me an honest question. It's hard to tell. I thought he was sarcastically pointing out that I lived in a not-so-upscale neighborhood. Doing a little research, I realize that I don't feel that safe here. I found a website hosted by the San Diego Police Department that shows crimes broken down by neighborhood. My eyes were opened to the truth. In August, there was 1 murder, 1 rape, 2 armed robberies, and 1 strongarm robbery equalling 21 violent crimes in my neighborhood. There were 15 residential burlaries, 7 commercial burglarlies, 65 thefts, and 37 vehicle thefts, equalling 124 thefts in my neighborhood. I signed up for the neighborhood e-watch provided by SDPD. Every morning I wake up to an email telling me what crimes have been reported in the past 24 hours within a mile of my humble abode. And it has a map, so I can see exactly what is going on where. Auto theft, residential burlary, narcotics, prostitution, parking tickets...it's all there with street addresses. Nothing has happened on my street or in my alley since I signed up for this email about 5 days ago except a drunk in public on Friday night at my street corner. I can handle drunks in public. I can't handle burglars or rapists, or, zoinks a murderer. I don't like the thought of some ignorant, lazy mongrel trying to steal my car or my belongings because they are too stupid to get a job. Well I've got news for any would-be attackers (it's not like they are reading this...they're too dumb to have a computer or to know how to read for that matter). I feel like Charles Bronson in Death Wish...my livingroom has become a faux weapons cache. My guitar, skateboard, and a large wine bottle will become weapons of mass destruction for anyone who dare thinks they are going to get in here. Axe-like, I'll smash a Squier Stratocaster to the center of your face faster than you can say "gee-tar." Just a word of warning. Let's hope it never comes to that. I don't think it will. I'm quiet, I keep to myself, I keep my doors locked, and I keep my blinds closed at night. My car is not ostentatious and it's devoid of anything worth stealing. I'm like a hawk, watching everything that goes on around here. My neighbors are quiet and they seem decent. My little area seems safe. So I think I will be. Time will tell. If I find anyone prowling this area, I'll be outta here as fast as I can find another safe place to live.

Yesterday two elderly women at the laundromat told me that I am very neat about how I fold my clothing. That made me feel good. At least I know what older women look for.