Not So Random Anymore

Last Friday, after waking from a wonderful slumber, taking a very sleepy shower, and putting together an outfit that had the least amount of wrinkles I could find, I made my way to the office. I sat at my desk with a english muffin and a coffee and logged onto our local paper's website to begin my morning ritual-prolonging the inevitable work day.

I read through the first couple posts of the day- Towson gas station robbed, man critically injured- three shot, one fatal in late night assault- man shot during attempted carjacking North Baltimore. Nothing out of the norm really. I mean, I do live in a City commonly referred to as "Bodymore, Murderland". I read a few stories about the rich and the semi-famous, catched up on real estate adventures, and then finally decide I should actually begin to do what I'm being paid for- seriously, how is net surfing not a paid job already? Just kidding, I really do work hard...

Anyway, several hours later I log onto facebook (shocker, right?) and my homepage is bombarded with Stay Strong, T and we know you can pull through T, etc. I'm clearly clueless about what happened to T. I bbm the boy and he has no idea. I text Powerslam- a mutual friend between of T and I. Actually, I may have met T through Powerslam. Regardless of that, Powerslam is not sure either- so the brigade of texts begin. T was the man shot in armed carjacking, the article I carelessly read about hours earlier.

I was stunned. Beyond belief actually. I was scared for T and his family and I'm pretty sure I said a quick prayer and for those of you that know me, I'm completely indifferent about religion. But this hit home. Now don't let me mislead you to think T and I speak every day or that I see him on the reg, because I definitely don't. However, he's been invited to every party I've ever hosted- I've seen him at almost every gathering I've probably attended, I've thrown back more then a few with him, and he even joined in our short lived poker nights.

T survived a bullet to the stomach that punctured his liver, kidney, and colon. But he's already beginning to regain his charm. In fact, when I visited him Tuesday with a group of friends, we asked the dumbest question we could "How are you feeling?" His response was classic "Like I have a bullet in my stomach". Well said T, well said.

I had a different outlook Monday morning when I sat down to read the recaps of the weekend. I no longer felt indifferent to news article outlining the tragedies of the City. Not to say that I won't become jaded at these stories again or that when I hear the sirens roll by my house at night that it won't cross my mind that someone may have just been shot. But for now, at this moment, my heart bleeds a little for the families and most definitely the friends of these people, who suffer at the hands of the ignorant.

I'm already looking forward to the Welcome Home party for T.