Numbers on a page, just sitting there, not really adding up to much but just that: figures unrelated to actual people, actual feelings.

Scrolling through the endless amounts of data, it is easy to see disconnect between numbers and feelings in any statistical records.

A disconnect present until it hits home, and when it does, it brings with it a terribly thunderous force and a horribly wretched aftermath.

Coming home late Friday evening after working, I found myself in the middle of no longer viewing statistics with cold, disinterested passing, but instead in a world where statistics and facts no longer mattered.

I had been in touch with several officials throughout the week who had assured me to the safety of the city and campus.

And yet, arriving home and finding the locks to my Jeep jimmied, the contents inside strewn about, it didn’t matter what the statistics said: I had a cloud of uneasiness hovering over my head.

What had been stolen were a few electronic items, including my GPS – thank God they didn’t take the Steely Dan CD in my glove box – and nothing else. But it was enough for me to no longer see crime statistics as just numbers.

I was no longer a casual reader of numbers.

I was in the jungle, baby, as I’ve heard.

Sexual assault survivors, robbery victims, cancer patients and everything else in between can all be viewed as just a number per year, per quarter, per whatever. But when it happens to you, the last thing you want to feel like is a just a number or a percentage.

Looking at the world as more than just black and white figures on a document will propel you into a deeper understanding of people.

Yeah, people – not numbers, or facts or rows and columns of useless data. I’m talking about real people, with real emotions, with real lives.

Maybe we should spend less time staring at documents telling us what percentage of what person had something happen to them, and a little more time figuring out how to solve these situations.

It does us no good to just know about the facts and figures – this goes for any kind of negative occurrence, not just crime – but that time might just be better spent remembering those little numbers are fellow humans, and maybe helping them out isn’t the worst thing in the world.

Bob Galuski is a senior English and journalism major. He can be reached at 581-2812 or [email protected].