Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Lets hold her up to some light

My sister is the type of person who instructs you what to do and what not to do with the certainty that she does no wrong.

Except well, she happens to be human, and she does do things wrong, and it just happens that she does lots wrong, as many of us do, hrrhmm, myself of course not excluded.

Perhaps its due to this inevitable reality, that I never developed an interest in keeping a score card and also because I am a little lazy, that I have always overlooked her errors, but now that she is adding to her list by finger pointing at me, I feel obliged to remind her that she may want to rethink this action, or perhaps, she may want to practice it in front of a mirror to herself until she has enumerated and improved all her faults before scolding other for theirs, namely me, for mine. See saying "about glass houses".

Just in case she also suffers from poor memory in this partularly sensitive and often obscure area or just lack of clarity, as alas, much of us do, I am kindly posting her a (kindly because I haven't added her name and picture above, at least not yet) list below.

Mortal Sins of a Mortal Girl:

  • She didn't follow up with the paper work for her morgage causing my mother much frustration as she scrambles to help her by providing her with money.
  • She sent the bank the wrong building plan, one that was not approved part of her construction permit.
  • She quit her job even though her loan was thrown out for faulty paperwork and even though she was not very good at overseeing the construction as she accumulated many costly errors.
  • She refused help with the ongoing construction of her house until she had committed so many errors she didn't know how to solve them then she went crying to our mother. Which makes the construction that much more costly and difficult.
  • She dumped her dog who she refused to train not to jump on the couch and obey simple commands on my mom to babysit. Even though my mom was tired of cleaning the balacony with that oily residue his fur leaves behind, constantly washing the throw covers of chairs and sofa, and running after him every time he escaped.
  • She thinks the dog is her first priorty and wastes hours everyday dropping him off at my mothers and walking him, leaving my poor mother to do much of her work on the construction site.
  • She visits the vet every 2-3 months because the dog has an incurrable illness, spending all her money on him, leaving my mom with the financial obligations of her house, which she insisted must have very costly ammenities.

Well, look at that, when we hold her up to the light, she does have lots of cracks after all.

Monday, September 29, 2008

Bark, Bark, Bite

Thursday I am awakened by C my neighbors dog at 4:00 am. I graciously await 11:00 am to leave a message on there answering machine. When I come home that night, they are not home, but C is still unrelentingly barking up a storm which has the effect of slowly and painfully unhinging my back bone. At 9:00 pm I spot the daughter making her way to her door. I explain, that her dog is very cute, but I am finding it hard to sleep, she looks at me blankly, as if I am explaing something that does not relate to her. After my babbling a bit which is due to my incomprehension on how to state the obvious without seeming rude, she says she will tell her parents. A full 15 minutes later of more barking she brings C out. I am relieved. My issue is solved, by pain is coming to an end, I keep focusing on the light at the end of the tunnel. I go to bed, feeling a sense of accomplishment.

4:00 am C begins her incessant and piercing barking, much like an alarm I can't turn off. Frantic I call my mother for help, support, guidance. She tells me to leave a note as if everything can be resolved with a simple note, what she doesn't understand is that these neighbors are not normal, nor have they ever been. They think that the entire block is their domain and that the other people living are there serfs...or perhaps at best, loiters, they must put up with. Sitting there with the early morning light making its way through a dreary rainy morning, drinking my extra strong green tea in hopes it will keep me awake, I spot the neighbor with the vociferous canine. I go up to him "your dog is really nice but really loud and unfortunatley she started barking at 4:00 am. He looks at me blankly. Does this family suffer from some sort of brain disorder I begin to wonder. I suggest helpfully, "maybe you can move him into another room". He replies, grumpily and stubbornly "there is no other place". I try to encourage all my brain cells to unite in an effort to find a reply which will not offend said neighbor, but will not sound like I except his explanation as a solution. I push on bravely "Well we need to do something, because as I said, she is cute but really loud". "so its a morning thing, she usually doesn't do this" "well I push on yet again, its also in the day and the evening" "when do you come home?" he asks. "fivish" I reply and thinking he has find a solution or in the mist of finding a solution, or befor he goes off in the wrong direction, some way to get out of correcting the situation, I thank him and turn around to leave. Well now its finally over.

It wasn't pleasant, no one appoligized, but I am getting some peace and quiet. Its over.

When I arrive home that evening, it is blissfully quiet. No barking. I sigh...see everyone is right, communication is key.

I go to sleep, and still not a peep from C.

It's 4:00, and we are back where we began. I work on being patient, he must be working on the problem I tell myself. Not trusting myself to talk to him without telling him he is a dumb moron with no etiquette nor a shadow of a brain, I decide not to leave a second message. I tell myself he is trying to walk her later it just didn't work and he will see that for himself.

Saturday, I must be so tired I don't hear C. I wake up refreshed.

Sunday, C barks continuously from 4 to 5. At 5 AM someone opens a door and he quiets down immediately.

Ok, so now they see it doesn't help and she is still barking at 4. They will try something else now.

Monday, C starts barking at 3:00! She has moved her barking cycle up an hour! Furious I sit at my desk to pen a letter, which I finally deem is polite, but some what firmer, which I tape to the neighbors door. A nice long piece of tape I decide in a half crazed mood must show my determination.

3:40 a door opens again, and like magic C stops barking. I check the window. The note has disappeared.

The only reason why I have not called the police yet is because they are geographically very close neighbors and because they seem to be trying to solve this issue even though they seem awfully slow witted about their attempts. Perhaps its after all not there fault if they are not bright.

But this is it, they have 48 hours and then I bite. I will call 911.

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Time sponges be gone

I had a head hunter who emailed me when I was away on vacation. I emailed back explaining I wouldn't be in the states for another month. He replied "enjoy".

Then I received a voice mail from him on my return, which I promptly returned. To be contacted twice with such a time gap may mean a position that may be hard to fill. Perhaps a position which requires proficiency in French. Perhaps this is something lucrative. I reason, if it's hard to fill, and they really need someone, it should pay well. Excitely, I call him the next morning on the train to work and we scale through polite formalities quickly.

"So is anything on your radar I ask?"

"What?" (as in he needs to buy time to lie).

I repeat my question.

"oh i'm not at my desk". (meaning, he just needs to look busy by interviewing people as there is probably a lul)

"Can you call me back later" he asks.

"Sure", I lie.

If there is something on the table I know he will contact me to give me the details. I don't call back. A week later. He calls me "why don't you come in to meet the office so we can get you set up with something?" I am doubtful, but I think it would be nice to have a nicer position. What can it hurt? Then, the day of the meeting, I think to myself, I don't feel like trecking over there for a position that doesn't exist and come running back to work worrying about my suspicous lateness. Besides, I reason, I really don't want to see J. the head hunter, who keeps insinuating that we should go out and who doesn't seem to pick up on the fact that my avoiding responding should clue him in. Obviously, he cares little about my discomfort, and less about my time, and wasting it. Five minutes before my appointment I call him and leave a voice mail that I won't be able to make it due to playing catch up on my 1 month long vacation in St. Barth.

Sigh. I am trying hard not to be bitchy... but I hope it hurt.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Avoiding small talk of the painful variety

Taking my little pizza box I make my way over to sit in front of a fountain with other fountain gazers enjoying the last remants of the summer sun.

Since returning from the caribbean, and also perhaps, since being almost mugged, I have become more aware of my surroundings. I look more closely at people, and perhaps this is how i notice there is a man with an orange pants and green shirt. My eyes linger. He looks like my ex. However it couldn't be, because my ex would never own much less wear such colors. Maybe the green top, but never the pants. Yet I am fascinated in a disturbed sort of way, I try looking closer, I squint. As this person occasionally looks around him briefly. He grabs his ear and starts rubbing it. A gesture I think he did, in fact, i am pretty sure. I try to calm myself by focusing on the fact that I am sitting behind him so maybe he won't notice. Then even better, I think I need to leave before being noticed. I scoop up my stuff, just when i see from the corner of my eyes, he is making his way to my corner. Calmly, I get up so my back is facing the sidewalk he is making his way to, then I coyly turn and make my way to where he just left, quickly leaving him behind.

Monday, September 22, 2008

I need a personal manager

I need a personal manager who walks up behind me and gives me taps on the back of my head whenever I stray from what I am suppose to be doing. They wouldn't need to be heavy duty amnesia provoking taps just irritating enough for me to desire to avoid them and also serve the purpose of redirecting me when it does occurr. "tap". Back on course.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Grey day

Today is grey and kind of gloomy. The kind of day you stay in bed for with a good book under the covers. I am coveting my pillows. One for my head, the other my arms.

It is 4:00 the worst part of my day. My lunch is settling in like an anchor pulling deep into the depths of sleep. A world impervious to my supposed office duties.

I can feel the pressure growing on my face, my eyelids, my cheeks, encouraging me to succumb. My entire body, turning itself off. I am fighting with out much intent to remain awake like a lone sailor trying to navigate a large yacht who has lost all crew.

I protest quietly while i feel myself slipping irrisistibly away. I just need a second.

Monday, September 15, 2008

Almost mugged on the E line

I was almost mugged standing in the Subway. It was overcrowded and I felt as if I was being unnecessarily leaned into. I move around to adjust my position to create more room, but he is definitely leaning into me and it seems intentional now. I switch my bag to the front of me and squeeze my bag feeling for my wallet. It's there. I look at him to see what kind of person, he looks thuggish. I have my wallet and my cell phone, I start focusing on my exit so I can make it as quickly as possible through the thick unyielding crowds. I go to the rest room at my office and I notice my bag has been ripped open with a knife.

I go back to the platform and they call officers to come and meet me. They take down his description and show me tiny pictures on laminated cards. He is not on their cards.

I seem to be an oddity for them. Remembering the person, providing a description, and not really having had anything stolen. They grow to a group of 8.

Maybe it's my stance. I am not ranting, or crying, but determined. Cops seem to be judgemental creatures, it's their job to assess people quickly, and I feel as if they are not quite sure what to make of me.

They take down my info and I thank them as we part.

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