Why I'm not afraid to live in Crown Heights
Subject: Why I'm not afraid to live in Crown Heights
I've had a bunch of people ask me why I'm not afraid to live here. I dug up the answer while I was unpacking.There is NOTHING that CH could possibly throw at me that would come close to the danger and sheer weirdness I faced during that one weekend in Tulsa. That is the number one reason why I never went back there, because it scares even me to have that much happen in 48 hours.
I went to Tulsa to audition for the Tulsa Philharmonic. I bombed the audition and sat on a park bench feeling sorry for myself. By the end of the day, I was on the lam from the Mexican mafia. (I suppose this all happened because I looked like a runaway teenager with my bags, and a pathetic one at that because of my cane.) Unfortunately, the nuttiness followed me to Indiana for a while. I ended up spending my 22nd birthday fasting because it was Yom Kippur and schlepping my b-day presents from my parents around all day because I couldn't go home. I celebrated with a total stranger in a coffee shop. Then I spent the next week hiding out with a friend of mine who was an ex-cop, a Vietnam vet and well-armed. Unfortunately, he though K-rations were gourmet. Do you have any idea how disgusting Chicken a la King is out of a bag?
Fortunately, because I was really nothing more than a bystander caught in circumstances beyond my control and not even a peripheral player to whatever was going down in Tulsa, the whole thing died down and I was able to go back home. It also helped that the guy looking for me didn't speak any English. (And he wasn't the one I was really afraid of; it was the people coming to kill him I was afraid of. Yep, I witnessed a death threat, and the poor schmuck didn't even realize that his life was in danger because the threat was in English.)
Ah, the midwest. Truly living there was a surreal daily experience and most of the time I was there, I felt I landed in a David Lynch movie instead. Lots o' weirdness, which I'm sure has only gotten worse since I left over a decade ago, what with the meth epidemic.
Comments
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Crap. The image didn't load. Someone tell me how to do this, please?
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Anyway, the image is supposed to be a note that I scrawled to someone.
"Jeff- I got into big trouble in Tulsa. If some Mexican guy comes looking for me, tell him you never saw me." -
And to reassure people, this sort of stuff doesn't really happen to me anymore. I suspect it's because even though I look really young for my age, I definitely don't look like a teenager anymore.
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to load an image, you have to put it online somewhere first. (flickr, photobucket, etc, all work) then:
hit img button (or type
copy web address for your pic -- if anything appears after the ".jpg" part (as it does on flickr), delete it.
hit img button again (or type " alt="" />)
and don't go back to tulsa. geez. -
Subject: Re: Why I'm not afraid to live in Crown Heights
lilbangladesh wrote:
Uh huh. Just remember to keep your ipod tucked out of sight. :thumright:
There is NOTHING that CH could possibly throw at me that would come close to the danger and sheer weirdness I faced during that one weekend in Tulsa. That is the number one reason why I never went back there, because it scares even me to have that much happen in 48 hours.
I went to Tulsa to audition for the Tulsa Philharmonic. I bombed the audition and sat on a park bench feeling sorry for myself. By the end of the day, I was on the lam from the Mexican mafia. (I suppose this all happened because I looked like a runaway teenager with my bags, and a pathetic one at that because of my cane.) Unfortunately, the nuttiness followed me to Indiana for a while. I ended up spending my 22nd birthday fasting because it was Yom Kippur and schlepping my b-day presents from my parents around all day because I couldn't go home. I celebrated with a total stranger in a coffee shop. Then I spent the next week hiding out with a friend of mine who was an ex-cop, a Vietnam vet and well-armed. Unfortunately, he though K-rations were gourmet. Do you have any idea how disgusting Chicken a la King is out of a bag?
Fortunately, because I was really nothing more than a bystander caught in circumstances beyond my control and not even a peripheral player to whatever was going down in Tulsa, the whole thing died down and I was able to go back home. It also helped that the guy looking for me didn't speak any English. (And he wasn't the one I was really afraid of; it was the people coming to kill him I was afraid of. Yep, I witnessed a death threat, and the poor schmuck didn't even realize that his life was in danger because the threat was in English.)
Ah, the midwest. Truly living there was a surreal daily experience and most of the time I was there, I felt I landed in a David Lynch movie instead. Lots o' weirdness, which I'm sure has only gotten worse since I left over a decade ago, what with the meth epidemic. -
Subject: Re: Why I'm not afraid to live in Crown Heights
Restless Native wrote: [quote=lilbangladesh]
Uh huh. Just remember to keep your ipod tucked out of sight. :thumright:
There is NOTHING that CH could possibly throw at me that would come close to the danger and sheer weirdness I faced during that one weekend in Tulsa. That is the number one reason why I never went back there, because it scares even me to have that much happen in 48 hours.
I went to Tulsa to audition for the Tulsa Philharmonic. I bombed the audition and sat on a park bench feeling sorry for myself. By the end of the day, I was on the lam from the Mexican mafia. (I suppose this all happened because I looked like a runaway teenager with my bags, and a pathetic one at that because of my cane.) Unfortunately, the nuttiness followed me to Indiana for a while. I ended up spending my 22nd birthday fasting because it was Yom Kippur and schlepping my b-day presents from my parents around all day because I couldn't go home. I celebrated with a total stranger in a coffee shop. Then I spent the next week hiding out with a friend of mine who was an ex-cop, a Vietnam vet and well-armed. Unfortunately, he though K-rations were gourmet. Do you have any idea how disgusting Chicken a la King is out of a bag?
Fortunately, because I was really nothing more than a bystander caught in circumstances beyond my control and not even a peripheral player to whatever was going down in Tulsa, the whole thing died down and I was able to go back home. It also helped that the guy looking for me didn't speak any English. (And he wasn't the one I was really afraid of; it was the people coming to kill him I was afraid of. Yep, I witnessed a death threat, and the poor schmuck didn't even realize that his life was in danger because the threat was in English.)
Ah, the midwest. Truly living there was a surreal daily experience and most of the time I was there, I felt I landed in a David Lynch movie instead. Lots o' weirdness, which I'm sure has only gotten worse since I left over a decade ago, what with the meth epidemic.
You must be extremely new to CH then. Trust me, I've seen dead bodies. I think you could have done alot worse. -
I would imagine that seeing dead bodies is not an everyday occurrence, even in CH. In every neighborhood, it seems, some shit must fly. Hell, the DAY after I moved out of Astoria, some guy got shot to death on the subway platform that I used to take every morning to work, so shit happens EVERYWHERE. What I like, and I keep pointing this out to my uber-suburbanite brother, is that at least in the city, the shit flies out in the open where you can see it. I've seen crap go down a block ahead of me sometimes and I think, "Hmmm... maybe I shouldn't go down that block." In a small town or suburb, that shit sneaks up on you so by the time you realize you're in trouble, it's too late. I lived in a small town in Indiana for five years. Idyllic, right? Ten blocks south of where I lived was a white slavery ring. And now I'm sure there's meth labs. And it hides in plain sight. You wouldn't know that shit was there unless someone pointed it out to you.
I also grew up in Boston during the 70s. Remember the 70s? Crime was REALLY bad back then. I've had my share of harrrowing experiences before I was ten years old. (Why my parents thought that I was safe to go around Boston by myself I'll never know. They were under the delusion that no one would harm a little girl. And then when I was fifteen, they wanted to give me a chaperone. I'm like, "I'm finally big enough to defend myself and NOW you want to give me a chaperone?" :-s )
Basically, while I acknowledge that crime is a problem, I think that it's far more likely that I will get my iPod snatched (and I do keep it tucked out of sight) than any physical harm. As far as that goes, I'm far more likely to be harmed by my stalker ex-boyfriend (the main reason why I moved out of Astoria) and his prison buddies than I am by some random person here, particularly because I am not involved with drugs.
Hell, I like that CH still has a bit of a bad-ass reputation. If I know my ex, he'll be too much of a pussy to come here. :P -
Now if someone could explain to me why the stairs of my building are being cleaned at this hour, I would appreciate it. (No, they aren't burglars. Most burglars don't come armed with mops.) They just set off the motion alarms. Oy.
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Subject: whimsy
You realize, I hope, that you are sounding incredibly needy, desperate and naive in all of your posts, Ms. Lilbangladesh. You are the sort of person who moves into a neighborhood like this, posts where she lives and then cries foul when she's attacked, or simply mugged, on her way home from the subway. I admire your openness and enthusiasm, but get a grip. Crime does happen everywhere, but a lot of violent crime happens right here within a very small radius. I moved here from a neighborhood that's considered much worse--Brownsville-- and I've never seen anything like it. But perhaps you enjoy courting danger, as one of your references to an ex-con boyfriend suggests.
I dunno, but shootings outside my window on a weekly basis is enough to keep me in at night. On the other hand, I know all of my neighbors and have for a while. I never feel threatened, but I don't recommend trotting through the streets at all hours looking for friends. They're out there and they will steal your piano. Not to mention your ipod. -
No Shizzow, Nobody.
Lil B needs to keep her bidness to huhseff. for real. we all know where she lives, where she plans on spending her birthday and that she's got enough dough to pay people to put screens in.
Get out. Lil B, protect yoself. -
sunflower wrote: No Shizzow, Nobody.
is this an intro to a bad video? I bet it is ...
Lil B needs to keep her bidness to huhseff. for real. we all know where she lives, where she plans on spending her birthday and that she's got enough dough to pay people to put screens in.
Get out. Lil B, protect yoself. -
That's no intro to no bad video. I am, as I type, listening to two people threaten to kill eachother outside my window. I'm not scared, I'm just sayin...
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sunflower wrote: That's no intro to no bad video. I am, as I type, listening to two people threaten to kill eachother outside my window. I'm not scared, I'm just sayin...
and you've called the police, right? -
I call the police and speak to them on a regular basis, so yes, I did call. Thanks for your concern. The trouble is, they are posted on my block until ten or so at night and then disappear. I've called 311, 911, and actually walked into the precinct. No one else in law enforcement seems nearly as concerned as you do.
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Geez. For one thing, window screens aren't that expensive. And my ex-boyfriend only recently got into trouble with the law for a first-time drug charge (and he's only making things difficult for himself by missing court dates, which means he'll get six months rather than the usual slap on the wrist. Ha! So he's not an ex-con yet!) When I dated him, he gave all appearances of being a middle-class professional, and all my friends, who had known him for longer than they'd known me all thought he was a standup guy. None of us had ANY idea that he was a secret psychopath and ghetto thug, so his transmorgification has shocked us all. :shock:
I broke up with him because of his controlling behavior that was bordering on abusive. Then he started stalking me MONTHS after we broke up and this has been going on for four years. I realized I had to move when he landed in jail (and because of that incredible rain storm, he was in arraignment jail for a WEEK) and apparently, he spent the entire time talking about how I ruined his life. The Bronx precinct called and told me about it, because it was so excessive. They also told me that half the people there wanted to shank him because he won't shut up and the other half think he's gay because he keeps talking about how women (especially me) are so evil. Even though he was far from popular, I got worried, not particularly about him, but about someone I don't know coming after me because I hurt his lil' buddy.
You know, I'm DAMN sick of being blamed for someone else's behavior. I knew the guy for THREE years before I dated him. I had *no* idea, nor did people who had known him for longer than me have any idea, that he was like this. It's like the police blaming me for not being psychic. As soon as I saw the writing on the wall, I got out of the relationship BEFORE there was physical violence, but because I did that, I couldn't get any help from the police when the stalking began. Damned if you do, damned if you don't. I've been put through sheer and utter hell because of that man AND I DID NOTHING WRONG. And then I have idiots like you saying that I chose this. Fuck you. I'd rather deal with the Mexican mafia.
I don't court danger, but I've had enough experience with danger not to get my panties in a bunch when it happens. When I come home at night, I go straight to my building because I know this is NOT a place for a late-night stroll. I mean, geez, give me a LITTLE credit. I doubt that I would have made it to the threshold of middle age if I didn't have *some* common sense and self-preservation. -
Hey there, whoa there.
I didn't mean to touch your nerves. But I do think you would be wise not to put so much of your personal life out here on the screens, as tantalizing as it is.
As far as your situation with your ex, I do get it. That is some creepy shit and people do change for the worse. I didn't mean to put you off, I just meant that you might be a little more guarded with your info. In any case, welcome to the neighborhood and I hope he never catches up with you.
Dealing with police and domestic situations is never pretty and they never seem to have the tools you need when you need them. A woman in your position should have complete assurance at all times that the law is on her side. I guess what I'm saying is that the police here are more than lacking in that area.
In any case, I'm glad you found the neighborhood and are eager to become a part of it. I am so sorry to have provoked you, but I was glad to hear what you had to say.
All apologies, Nobody -
Subject: but why
But why would anyone give you any credit when you continually come out with more revealing aspects of yourself? You seem intent on making yourself vulnerable. And, really, that don't play. In other peoples' words, I'm sayin', watch yo back more gal. You just trot around all over this site exposing yourself. Don't do that. No need for all that. Someone love you someday. -
Catharsis is good. It feels good sometimes to talk about things. Sometimes I wish I could do that too. I'm glad you have a voice. I'm glad you've found your voice. Perhaps you've had it all along, perhaps you've just discovered it. I don't know you, so I don't know. But now I know you a little bit better. And maybe it will help people realize that there are people behind those windows, not just rich yuppies getting their window screens installed. May you be happy. May you have peace. May we all be happy. May we all have peace. It sounds like you have everything under control.
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P.S. lilbandladesh, not to go stalker on you (see http://brooklynian.com/forums/viewtopic.php?p=394350&highlight=#394350 ) but since you did mention it in another thread, happy birthday!
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Heh. thanks. Actually, I am pretty aware of what I put out there. I don't have a problem with talking about my personal life, but I'm pretty chary of revealing personal information. I mean, yeah, my street is on my location, but that's a big street. I deleted the link to my image when I realized my name was in it.
That said, I actually don't fear personal harm from my stalker because he's a wuss. I'm younger and stronger and he's got a bad back. I'm just wary of anyone he might talk into helping him. He actually got his cousin (who was the detective who caught my case) to help stalk me, so he was able to hack into my account and keep me from getting a job for three years. (I found it weird that I would get job offers that would then be rescinded the very next day. I usually have to work for someone before I get fired.) It was only when I took my jobhunting off-line that I was able to find work again. The NYPD forcibly retired the guy, but the damage the guy did to me financially is probably permanent. I'm definitely no yuppie.
But this is what he does and this is his M.O. I only found out afterwards that it was the hardly the first time he's stalked someone. None of his victims were physically harmed. Just emotionally and financially.
I defintely feel safer here. Mostly because I no longer live in a first floor apartment. (I once locked myself out at 3 AM and was distressed to find out how easy it was to break in, though I did get caught by the fire department while I was doing it.) Also, he may be Latino, but he looks white and acts like a mugging victim. He'd stick out like a sore thumb here.
I think I'll be fine. The guy's got enough problems right now to make a trip from the Bronx prohibitive. I did install a deadbolt on my door and I've had many years of city living to teach me how to get from point A to point B safely. I've taken these precautions for so many years that they're second nature and I don't worry about it. I feel safer in cities generally because I know what to expect. It's when you live in smaller towns that things can get dangerous because you get lulled with a false sense of safety.
And here's another thing, anything I talk about, he already knows, so what good would staying silent be? He knows when my birthday is (though I highly doubt he'd show up at Q. See wuss comment above). My phone number is unlisted now. My actual address only gets divulged on a need-to-know basis. (You may know my street, but notice that I didn't say what floor I live on or anything that identifies my actual apartment in any way.) My name is not on the doorbell or the mailbox.
If he really wants to find me, I'm sure he could. But I think merely making things difficult will put him off.
Living in a first floor apartment made it too easy for him to spy on me as well as others. I've had strangers stalk me before, but they're relatively easy to get rid of. Basically, you make yourself a really boring target by not getting upset by their behavior and they stop. It's when someone you know stalks you that you're SOL. They already know everything about you (and posting or not posting on a blog isn't going to change that). -
Also, need I mention that statistically, I'm much more likely to suffer harm from someone I know than from a stranger. I've been accosted by strangers before, and I've dealt with every situation successfully. That's why I'm confident about continuing to keep myself safe.
I didn't move earlier because with the online stalking, I knew there would be no point. Even if I moved across the country, my life would be screwed up. Now that isn't happening anymore, moving made perfect sense. It would require the guy more resources to stalk me now. Resources that I'm pretty sure, what with his legal troubles, the relocation of his cousin, and the fact that he hasn't had a job in years, he doesn't have. It's too easy to get from the Bronx to Astoria, where he has friends and doesn't stick out. It's quite a bit more difficult to get here. -
Bleh. I meant this thread as a quick trip down memory lane for this crazy-ass thing that happened many years ago when I was a young pup. All I did to start off that chain of events was sit on a park bench.
I've never experienced anything THAT crazy in all the years I've lived in Boston or New York. That was basically my point. -
Hey, anyone giving lilbangaldesh a hard time, let her alone.
She's looking for new friends and trying to find a way to do that.
I hope someone is going to her party tonight.
Happy Birthday lilbangladesh
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sunflower wrote: I call the police and speak to them on a regular basis, so yes, I did call. Thanks for your concern. The trouble is, they are posted on my block until ten or so at night and then disappear. I've called 311, 911, and actually walked into the precinct. No one else in law enforcement seems nearly as concerned as you do.
good for you. -
Thank you! I just remembered that it's time to open the present my mom sent me.
Even though every year, she sends me the same exact thing. Time to act surprised. whee! -
Well, no surprise here. I did get the same exact thing.
But the card cracked me up. It reads:
If cats could talk and gave a crap, they'd wish you a happy birthday.
On the inside:
I wish you a happy birthday. I cannot, however, speak for the cats.
And it's signed:
Dad
Mother
Then way at the bottom they wrote:
Cats:
Trevor
Rachel
God, my parents are dorks. I've never met these cats nor have I ever seen a picture. It cracks me up. -
hey guest: i'd pm you, but i can't since you aren't registered. however, just a heads up that sock-puppetry -- that's when you make more than one identity for yourself so you can agree (or disagree) with each other -- is a no-no on these boards.
take a look at the rules, which you can find at the top of every page.
-- mod -
Hey OP, everyone has a story but please share yours carefully, on the streets and on the internet. Be safe!
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lilbangladesh wrote: I would imagine that seeing dead bodies is not an everyday occurrence, even in CH. In every neighborhood, it seems, some shit must fly. Hell, the DAY after I moved out of Astoria, some guy got shot to death on the subway platform that I used to take every morning to work, so shit happens EVERYWHERE. What I like, and I keep pointing this out to my uber-suburbanite brother, is that at least in the city, the shit flies out in the open where you can see it. I've seen crap go down a block ahead of me sometimes and I think, "Hmmm... maybe I shouldn't go down that block." In a small town or suburb, that shit sneaks up on you so by the time you realize you're in trouble, it's too late. I lived in a small town in Indiana for five years. Idyllic, right? Ten blocks south of where I lived was a white slavery ring. And now I'm sure there's meth labs. And it hides in plain sight. You wouldn't know that shit was there unless someone pointed it out to you.
Please, Brooklyn has more shootingst a year than some states. Nassau County had less homicides than the 77.
I also grew up in Boston during the 70s. Remember the 70s? Crime was REALLY bad back then. I've had my share of harrrowing experiences before I was ten years old. (Why my parents thought that I was safe to go around Boston by myself I'll never know. They were under the delusion that no one would harm a little girl. And then when I was fifteen, they wanted to give me a chaperone. I'm like, "I'm finally big enough to defend myself and NOW you want to give me a chaperone?" :-s )
Basically, while I acknowledge that crime is a problem, I think that it's far more likely that I will get my iPod snatched (and I do keep it tucked out of sight) than any physical harm. As far as that goes, I'm far more likely to be harmed by my stalker ex-boyfriend (the main reason why I moved out of Astoria) and his prison buddies than I am by some random person here, particularly because I am not involved with drugs.
Hell, I like that CH still has a bit of a bad-ass reputation. If I know my ex, he'll be too much of a pussy to come here. :P -
sunflower wrote: I call the police and speak to them on a regular basis, so yes, I did call. Thanks for your concern. The trouble is, they are posted on my block until ten or so at night and then disappear. I've called 311, 911, and actually walked into the precinct. No one else in law enforcement seems nearly as concerned as you do.
See, there's your problem. You have to call the "real" emergency number, which is 912.
Hope that helps.
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