March 13, 2011

  • Humans Are Evil.

    I could just summarize everything up, but you know how I blog -- I don't like to just summarize shit, I like to take honest time to talk about recent events. The more detail the better. However, this is a very interesting entry as it's not horribly bad but really makes you think about why humans are evil.

    About a year ago, I started parking my car on my neighbor's driveway. The last time I remember anyone being at that house was when I saw people packing things into moving vans. I didn't grow any concern because I figured someone grew up in the household, has a new place, and decided to move out. I didn't think the whole FAMILY was moving.

    I don't know any details; all I know is that the house remained empty for a long period of time before I started parking my car there. The house was simply unoccupied for about a year, which is good for me because I could get my car off the street and into someone's driveway. My car has been hit while parked, and I'm sure that someone is just going to hit it again.

    That's probably a pessimistic point of view, but it's only the truth. You have to acknowledge the possibility that shit happens. Humans are evil. If someone accidentally takes up two parking spaces, does that justify "accidentally" bumping into their car? I've seen it on several occasions of people hitting people's cars, and not only are they aware of what they are doing, but even after I report it...no one does anything about it! People get so upset over a parking spot, and people claim that the people who take up two parking spots think they're more important than everybody else, but imagine how you would feel if your car was scratched up? What gives them the authority to get away with something like that? 

    I'm by no means perfect, but when it comes to parking spots, I tend to ignore the close parking spots when it's my car. I'd rather not cram my tank into a parking spot and risk hitting someone else's car with my door and vice versa. I've personally seen what people do to other cars and it's just not very nice. If you think I'm Mr. Goody-two shorts, you'll have your revenge on me in a second. Let me continue with the story.

    So I got used to parking in the driveway. It became my driveway and even though I wasn't really concerned about hitting my car (unless they were unbelievably retarded and somehow manage to lose control of a car going 25-30 miles an hour), I was concerned about what would happen if the people get back. I could imagine it now...*cuts to a dream.*

    "Man, I haven't been at our house in ages. Finally get to...is that a car in our driveway?"
    -gets out of the car, opens up the trunk and pulls out a baseball bat.-

    Or I wake up with a cop circling my car, I grab the keys and bolt towards the car to move it. The cop sees me running towards him, pulls out his pistol and yells "STOP WHERE YOU ARE! DON'T MOVE A MUSCLE!" And when I try to explain, I get shot twice in the chest.

    One day, I got a little too comfortable and got caught off guard. A couple police cars and white vans were parked on the street, and several men were walking past my car. Without hesitation, I grabbed my keys and bolted out the door with the expectation of getting shot.

    As I was rushing down the driveway, I could hear one of the men say "there he is." When I got to my car, a police officer was looking at me while several men were opening the garage door. He asked me about the people who lived here if I knew anything about their disappearance. Out of breath and fear, I told him that I saw them leave about a year ago and haven't seen them since so I parked my car on the driveway. I then moved my car back to its original spot...on the street.

    The house was getting evicted, and what makes everything more stranger is what the family left behind. Books, documents, used checks, trophies, guns, furniture, knives, binoculars, lamps, fans, tools, and just a lot of stuff that would make their disappearance even more strange. 

    Let me just explain now that I am not much of a shopper. I can't even last 5 minutes in the mall by myself, and even if I do...I don't visit stores, I head directly to Gamestop, and walk around like a cool kid. But there's only two kinds of shopping that I thoroughly enjoy: 

    1) Online shopping for technology
    2) Getting people's stuff from evicted houses.

    That day was one of those occasions where I enjoy it more than the other. The main reason why I enjoy taking people's stuff at evictions is because it's free. Because they left so much stuff, I essentially hit a jackpot and had a wide selection of things to get...for free.

    So for some odd reason, a family decides to leave, and for some reason, they can't pay the bills to the house and their house ends up getting evicted. I'm not completely evil, but I think that we are evil to an extent when we take joy out of taking other people's stuff. My family and other neighbors thoroughly checked for things, and we didn't really know them but it resulted in a bond. We made compromises by calling dibs, and we laughed or got excited about the things the other family found. We were scavengers taking someone else's stuff. Nice stuff, I might add. Who wouldn't take someone else's stuff legally? Besides, the forecast suggested it was going to rain the next day so it would only make sense to take the important stuff anyways.

    So if you're wondering what all we got, I'll tell you:

    When I looked at that piece of furniture on the grass, I knew what I could use it for. It fits great on my dresser, even matches my dresser color (almost), and it keeps my model cars safe from the little kids. Every time my cousin comes over, he asks if he could play with my model cars. I tell him no because when I was his age, I played with my model cars too. That's why the rest of them are broken and dusty.

    An office chair. Considerably more comfortable than my wooden chair that's used for a kitchen table.

    Some other stuff that I got:

    - a knife
    - a movie projector (not worth a lot of money)
    - binoculars
    - a fan
    - two lamps
    - and...brace yourself, A GUN!

    It was a high-powered .30 Remington Rifle that's no longer in my possession. I called the police the same day when I found it. My drunk grandmother was NOT happy because they didn't give me a reward for turning it in or nothing. I didn't really care. Why would I need a gun? It's a high-powered rifle, so it's not for self defense otherwise that'd be retarded. I don't shoot squirrels anymore with BB guns, and I wouldn't kill them with a high powered rifle because, quite frankly, that'd probably scare the neighbors and knowing my lack of aim, I'd probably kill someone. And besides, considering my state of mind a couple weeks ago, you don't want me anywhere near a gun. I mostly turned the gun in for my protection; let's just put it that way. 

    In other news, I'm buying a Kodak ZI8 HD pocket camera. Supposedly shoots up to true 1080p but I'm content with 720p at 60 FPS (if possible). When I get it, I'll definitely test it out by walking around the house and shit.

    I'm also on schedule with my project. I'm halfway done and I have 3 days till I have to turn it in. It's good to be on schedule.

    Anyways, things are going okay. My grandmother is still upset that her dog died, but I'm slowly moving on and I'm going back to my original state. It was a bumpy ride though. Take care.