...is that you can flip the bird to the last year and look forward to even more shit going down.
If you've been reading the posts for the last couple of months, you know was I was dealing with. I am SOOO happy that this year is a memory. I had to see some ugly sides to people I thought I knew, including myself. I had to see what depths people can sink and not even notice they sank there.
A friend of mine, upon reading my experiences, asked me why it seems that I have an unusally high number of people in my life who have addictions or mental issues. Someone suggested that I have a very accepting nature and that people who are not in their right minds gravitate to me because I don't immediately reject them. Or maybe I have my own mental blind spots and see things that should alarm me as harmless.
I've worked with mentally ill and retarded children and learned to deal with them as not stupid or crazy, rather them not being able to perceive the obvious and to have patience with them. To understand that they don't understand what's happening to them. In adults, it's trying to give them some dignity and control over their situation by trying to make them aware of it and teaching them to cope with humor and a feeling of "it's ok, we all do silly things"
But with addict personalites, which have been on both sides of my family, it's more difficult to forgive and deal with. With the addict, my laid back demeanor does nothing but make them feel they can go to the extreme, cause I won't say anything. Then as the behavior gets more and more outlandish, like a kid trying to get attention, and it gets to a critical point where you realize that the addict is willing and indeed, hell bent, on doing themselves in and making it your fault. Never do they think "Wow..this person is just watching me crack out. I have to stop doing this and get myself together." They either tempt me with something so that I can do it with them and therefore I'm just like them, or when I refuse, they get mad and do it as a "fuck you I can do what i want" gesture. No matter what sex they are or what race. You see the pattern in everyone with that problem.
I've smoked pot, I've tripped on LSD and shrooms, tried E, and love red wine. I won't lie, those experiences were mostly fun and positive. But they happen every once in a while, and I'm not ready to forfeit my life and sanity to them. I conside myself lucky that I was older (28) when I experimented with those things and that I never got caught up in them. But many friends and family DID get caught up and seeing them go through it has scared me. The thought of one bad trip leaving you psycholgically scared for life keeps things real for me.
If you are going through a problem or someone you love is, you have to find it in your heart to try and help. If they don't want to help themselves, then you have to have the strength to walk away.
Thanks to all who offered support, advice, understanding and love during all my "ordeals". Thanks to all those who read this regularly. And thanks to the Universe for bringing the wheel around one more cycle..
Peace and Blessings..
Ripley understood…
…that old familiar feeling of dread when you realize what you’re dealing with and you have to deal with it YET again..
I promise that I will only describe someone as crazy if they REALLY are cause now I KNOW what it means. Stark raving mad. Coked outta yer mind from the ID type shit. Walking around talking to yourself. Or just walking. All fucking night…walking..
It’s what Ripley felt, and The Bride, and every other woman who had to face madness and try to not let it fuck with their shit. This poor woman thinks that her being 50 earned her the right to get disturbingly high. This is a woman who gave the fuck up. "I just wanna get fucked up and lose my mind instead dealing with the reality of it all." It’s MY time to get fucked up. My mother said something similar. They DESERVE this. They EARNED it. When you look them in the eye and tell them that they may just have a heart attack or a stroke cause not only are they addicts, but woefully out of shape ones, as addicts tend to be, they don’t care. That’s very deep shit there. They figure that they failed at life and rather than refine the program, they’d rather crack out. Full on. When a young person does that, you can blame it on tragic youth. But if you’re a 50-something and doing coke and E and drinking and smoking AND losing your mind (cause you have been doing it for YEARS)? You’re a fucking loser. I can’t believe we won’t get Social Security cause these worthless fucks are getting wasted with it now. Bitter?….well, yes..
But whatever. They blew their chance. If they can’t get it together, then pick a home now and go get high and when you get sick, we’ll use the money to put you here. Like a retarded child except you feel for the retarded child cause he or she didn’t choose to be retarded. It’s just their path in this life of many. But chicks like this you begin to loathe because they, however pitiful, put themselves through the wringer. They just spin out on worthless crap. They weave neurotic yarns and get all puffed up and frantic. For nothing. Tripping cause they’re too fat and lazy and fucked up. To anyone reading this, if you know me and I live to be 50 and I’m like THIS, you have permission to slap the piss outta me.
Fuck that. If I have to come away with a lesson from this recent experience, it’s know your limits. Once you lose that and you can’t control your impulses, you are LOST. Maybe it’s cause these are hard times in a way, so a wider range of people are starting to snap. But when you come to a point where logic doesn’t enter into your choices, and you react by emotion, it’s a wrap. You’re so consumed with being in state of alarm and anxiety, that you crave it. I feel like I was on the road to there and something slapped me. It was called reality and it hurt like a bitch. I’m ok with it. Has to be what it must to get where it needs to get. I dig. And maybe these past lessons taught me that privacy is sacred and you must have a haven. Somewhere. You may have to lay your head in some crazy places, but you’ll find sanctuary. Eventually.
So Christmas Eve ended with the cops basically telling her that if she locks me out, she gets arrested. They leave and barely get out the building when she goes right back into threats and sniffing and pretending to be on the phone telling the police that I have her at knifepoint. What she didn't know was while she was doing that, I called the neighbors, who in turn, called others and rang the bell as she was "calling the cops". They are all in the hallway and she's in her panties and tee shirt laughing and screaming and pacing and bugging and finally the gravity of the situation hits them. They push her in the house and try to talk to her, asking her questions to see if she understands. She really doesn't. She is consumed with the fact that she can get fucked up in her own house if she wants to. They gently try to explain that you can't when you have tenant. "Fuck that! It's my house and I'll do what I want."
3 women try to calm her down and finally she pretends to get them out of the house. As soon as she locked the door, she started up. I went into the kitchen to wash a dish and she SWOOPS into the kitchen screaming at me not to touch her shit. Then she goes rooting through the kitchen drawer and pulls a knife and blocks my way out of the kitchen. On some Single White Female type shit. THEN when I bolt out the kitchen and grab my phone, the bitch calls the cops again and lies and says I had a knife to her throat. By this point I'm ready to beat her ass for that, jail or not. The chick cop comes in with a billy clubm threatening to lock me up, and all I keep saying to her was the cops have been here all day. I beg her to go to the neighbors and ask questions. I call the neighbors to intercept the cops in the hallway and they do and the police came no more.
Spent Christmas in that house, with my food and drink in the fucking window to keep it cold, with my good friend to came to help me. Watched about 12 hours of the 24 hour Christmas Story marathon. Didn't see my family, but was kinda fine with it. Thought Christmas was the worst and why was I gonna let this psycho get me down. So I called a friend who was close and set about to move out. Had to walk some of my belongings in cart and saw a long blue van at the light and asked the driver how much they'd charge me to move some stuff a few blocks. $40. Thanks to a van driver named, of all things, Mary, I got the hell outta dodge.
Later that night I'm online and read the Reuter's headline about the tsunami. Instantly, my drama was over. That addicted cunt a memory. Seemed a trite thing now. The Sea came and took many people away. No one to blame. No one to get vengence on. The earth simply hiccuped and shifted a bit and took some people off of it. The scope of this is enourmous. The range of death is beyond what any of us can imagine. You see people surviving something like this and you think of a bored cunt somewhere getting cracked out and you know where you need to be..
I promise that I will only describe someone as crazy if they REALLY are cause now I KNOW what it means. Stark raving mad. Coked outta yer mind from the ID type shit. Walking around talking to yourself. Or just walking. All fucking night…walking..
It’s what Ripley felt, and The Bride, and every other woman who had to face madness and try to not let it fuck with their shit. This poor woman thinks that her being 50 earned her the right to get disturbingly high. This is a woman who gave the fuck up. "I just wanna get fucked up and lose my mind instead dealing with the reality of it all." It’s MY time to get fucked up. My mother said something similar. They DESERVE this. They EARNED it. When you look them in the eye and tell them that they may just have a heart attack or a stroke cause not only are they addicts, but woefully out of shape ones, as addicts tend to be, they don’t care. That’s very deep shit there. They figure that they failed at life and rather than refine the program, they’d rather crack out. Full on. When a young person does that, you can blame it on tragic youth. But if you’re a 50-something and doing coke and E and drinking and smoking AND losing your mind (cause you have been doing it for YEARS)? You’re a fucking loser. I can’t believe we won’t get Social Security cause these worthless fucks are getting wasted with it now. Bitter?….well, yes..
But whatever. They blew their chance. If they can’t get it together, then pick a home now and go get high and when you get sick, we’ll use the money to put you here. Like a retarded child except you feel for the retarded child cause he or she didn’t choose to be retarded. It’s just their path in this life of many. But chicks like this you begin to loathe because they, however pitiful, put themselves through the wringer. They just spin out on worthless crap. They weave neurotic yarns and get all puffed up and frantic. For nothing. Tripping cause they’re too fat and lazy and fucked up. To anyone reading this, if you know me and I live to be 50 and I’m like THIS, you have permission to slap the piss outta me.
Fuck that. If I have to come away with a lesson from this recent experience, it’s know your limits. Once you lose that and you can’t control your impulses, you are LOST. Maybe it’s cause these are hard times in a way, so a wider range of people are starting to snap. But when you come to a point where logic doesn’t enter into your choices, and you react by emotion, it’s a wrap. You’re so consumed with being in state of alarm and anxiety, that you crave it. I feel like I was on the road to there and something slapped me. It was called reality and it hurt like a bitch. I’m ok with it. Has to be what it must to get where it needs to get. I dig. And maybe these past lessons taught me that privacy is sacred and you must have a haven. Somewhere. You may have to lay your head in some crazy places, but you’ll find sanctuary. Eventually.
So Christmas Eve ended with the cops basically telling her that if she locks me out, she gets arrested. They leave and barely get out the building when she goes right back into threats and sniffing and pretending to be on the phone telling the police that I have her at knifepoint. What she didn't know was while she was doing that, I called the neighbors, who in turn, called others and rang the bell as she was "calling the cops". They are all in the hallway and she's in her panties and tee shirt laughing and screaming and pacing and bugging and finally the gravity of the situation hits them. They push her in the house and try to talk to her, asking her questions to see if she understands. She really doesn't. She is consumed with the fact that she can get fucked up in her own house if she wants to. They gently try to explain that you can't when you have tenant. "Fuck that! It's my house and I'll do what I want."
3 women try to calm her down and finally she pretends to get them out of the house. As soon as she locked the door, she started up. I went into the kitchen to wash a dish and she SWOOPS into the kitchen screaming at me not to touch her shit. Then she goes rooting through the kitchen drawer and pulls a knife and blocks my way out of the kitchen. On some Single White Female type shit. THEN when I bolt out the kitchen and grab my phone, the bitch calls the cops again and lies and says I had a knife to her throat. By this point I'm ready to beat her ass for that, jail or not. The chick cop comes in with a billy clubm threatening to lock me up, and all I keep saying to her was the cops have been here all day. I beg her to go to the neighbors and ask questions. I call the neighbors to intercept the cops in the hallway and they do and the police came no more.
Spent Christmas in that house, with my food and drink in the fucking window to keep it cold, with my good friend to came to help me. Watched about 12 hours of the 24 hour Christmas Story marathon. Didn't see my family, but was kinda fine with it. Thought Christmas was the worst and why was I gonna let this psycho get me down. So I called a friend who was close and set about to move out. Had to walk some of my belongings in cart and saw a long blue van at the light and asked the driver how much they'd charge me to move some stuff a few blocks. $40. Thanks to a van driver named, of all things, Mary, I got the hell outta dodge.
Later that night I'm online and read the Reuter's headline about the tsunami. Instantly, my drama was over. That addicted cunt a memory. Seemed a trite thing now. The Sea came and took many people away. No one to blame. No one to get vengence on. The earth simply hiccuped and shifted a bit and took some people off of it. The scope of this is enourmous. The range of death is beyond what any of us can imagine. You see people surviving something like this and you think of a bored cunt somewhere getting cracked out and you know where you need to be..
Hell in a Handbasket
What a Christmas!
We all remember my bi-polar now EX landlord? Guess the holidays gets people in a bad mood so girlfriend decided to get herself nice and fucked up Christmas Eve on cocaine and rum. So fucked up that homegirl was walking around with no panties on singing at 4am while I'm trying to sleep. I finally had to call the police cause she was so messed up she wasn't hearing what I was saying...
That one call started a chain of events I'm still trying to work out in my mind. The cops come and she is so clearly high that I don't have to say very much to them. They try to reason with her, but she's all hopped up. The 1st call was at 6:45am. The dumb bitch calls them back 5 minutes later cause she wants to "set the record straight". She basically gets told by the same cops to shut the fuck up and get back in the house and get some sleep, which of course, she'd refuses to do. The cops are barely out the door when she starts threatening me "Yeah bitch..I WANT MY MONEY or you're dead!" and "You called the cops on me in my own house, it's ON now!". I try to ignore her, but what I've learned about people on drugs, especially coke, is that they HATE to be ignored. She starts banging on the door demanding to know when she's gonna get her money cause she wants to get MORE fucked up. It's a sickening feeling when you have to pay someone money you owe knowing that the first thing they are going to do is run out and get fucked up with it.
The next phase was me waiting for my check to come in the mail (which I was not allowed to pick up myself cause she refused to give me the mailbox key). My check was opened the week before when she gave it to me, just enough to see how much it was. I ask her if it was open when she got it from the mailbox and she flipped out, saying I was accusing her and how dare I. That pretty much sealed her guilt in my mind. Fast forward to Christmas Eve afternoon and she is running back and forth, in and out of the house to see if the mailman is coming. I tell her I'll get my own damn check thank you and leave me alone. This nutjob saw the mail guy, came rushing out of the house with no shoes on so she can commandeer the mail. Neighbors are walking by and she's taking like a retard and even the mail guy is getting creeped out. The bitch REFUSED to let the dude just give me my mail..she insisted that SHE be the one to open the mailbox and give it to me WHILE THE MAIL DUDE IS STILL THERE.
As soon as I got the check in my hands, she wants to know when I'm gonna cash it. I refused to say anything to her so the dumb bitch calls the cops AGAIN. They come and of course she's WAY more fucked up than she was that morning so it's even more obvious. She's so high, that she's talking shit to the cops and they turned to look at me and mouthed to me "You have to get out of here"..
more later.
We all remember my bi-polar now EX landlord? Guess the holidays gets people in a bad mood so girlfriend decided to get herself nice and fucked up Christmas Eve on cocaine and rum. So fucked up that homegirl was walking around with no panties on singing at 4am while I'm trying to sleep. I finally had to call the police cause she was so messed up she wasn't hearing what I was saying...
That one call started a chain of events I'm still trying to work out in my mind. The cops come and she is so clearly high that I don't have to say very much to them. They try to reason with her, but she's all hopped up. The 1st call was at 6:45am. The dumb bitch calls them back 5 minutes later cause she wants to "set the record straight". She basically gets told by the same cops to shut the fuck up and get back in the house and get some sleep, which of course, she'd refuses to do. The cops are barely out the door when she starts threatening me "Yeah bitch..I WANT MY MONEY or you're dead!" and "You called the cops on me in my own house, it's ON now!". I try to ignore her, but what I've learned about people on drugs, especially coke, is that they HATE to be ignored. She starts banging on the door demanding to know when she's gonna get her money cause she wants to get MORE fucked up. It's a sickening feeling when you have to pay someone money you owe knowing that the first thing they are going to do is run out and get fucked up with it.
The next phase was me waiting for my check to come in the mail (which I was not allowed to pick up myself cause she refused to give me the mailbox key). My check was opened the week before when she gave it to me, just enough to see how much it was. I ask her if it was open when she got it from the mailbox and she flipped out, saying I was accusing her and how dare I. That pretty much sealed her guilt in my mind. Fast forward to Christmas Eve afternoon and she is running back and forth, in and out of the house to see if the mailman is coming. I tell her I'll get my own damn check thank you and leave me alone. This nutjob saw the mail guy, came rushing out of the house with no shoes on so she can commandeer the mail. Neighbors are walking by and she's taking like a retard and even the mail guy is getting creeped out. The bitch REFUSED to let the dude just give me my mail..she insisted that SHE be the one to open the mailbox and give it to me WHILE THE MAIL DUDE IS STILL THERE.
As soon as I got the check in my hands, she wants to know when I'm gonna cash it. I refused to say anything to her so the dumb bitch calls the cops AGAIN. They come and of course she's WAY more fucked up than she was that morning so it's even more obvious. She's so high, that she's talking shit to the cops and they turned to look at me and mouthed to me "You have to get out of here"..
more later.
50% of the time...
...living with the Bi Polar ain't so bad. So what she talks to the TV and has arguments with it? No big deal. I'm beginning to get hip to this now. As long as her man is no where in sight and I'm locked securely in my room, all is well.
I know I really slagged this woman down, and I feel kinda bad. She really isn't a bad person, just terribly nutty. She can't help it, I guess. And it seems like I'm having some sort of positive effect on her. The people who know her in the building are EXTREMELY glad to see me and go out of their way to be nice and say hello, like "Thank you for chilling her out. You must be blessed!". I think people just gave up on her and wrote her off, yet I have to make an attempt to be nice and understanding cause I HAVE to live there. And I, despite my crazy life, am a pretty laid back person. There's nothing like some outside person quietly observing your madness to make you question just what the fuck you are doing.
She's really trying and I am trying to let her know I know she's trying. As long as she has the strength to keep the asshole at arm's distance, she may be ok. She's straightening up her house and life and it seems she hasn't had another female presence around to support her in that. Again, it's a fine line between being objectively supportive and getting involved in someone's shit. But I see what happens when women let themselves become absorbed with their man instead of themselves.
Put out some good vibes for her. And me.
I know I really slagged this woman down, and I feel kinda bad. She really isn't a bad person, just terribly nutty. She can't help it, I guess. And it seems like I'm having some sort of positive effect on her. The people who know her in the building are EXTREMELY glad to see me and go out of their way to be nice and say hello, like "Thank you for chilling her out. You must be blessed!". I think people just gave up on her and wrote her off, yet I have to make an attempt to be nice and understanding cause I HAVE to live there. And I, despite my crazy life, am a pretty laid back person. There's nothing like some outside person quietly observing your madness to make you question just what the fuck you are doing.
She's really trying and I am trying to let her know I know she's trying. As long as she has the strength to keep the asshole at arm's distance, she may be ok. She's straightening up her house and life and it seems she hasn't had another female presence around to support her in that. Again, it's a fine line between being objectively supportive and getting involved in someone's shit. But I see what happens when women let themselves become absorbed with their man instead of themselves.
Put out some good vibes for her. And me.
A Big Mouth on a Short Leash
If you read the last entry, you know that I live with a bona-fide mental patient. When we last left BiPolar Middle Aged Black Woman, she called the cops on her young Puerto Rican boyfriend. Not more than 2 days later, homeboy is back in her good graces, cooking her lobster and shrimp. So now you know, folks. You wanna keep a crazy black woman happy? Plow seafood into her face..
I have an amazing ability to make friends with people even in the most extreme cases, and her next door neighbors (who have known her all her life and know that she will probably die untreated) are this really cool Afrocentric arty couple in their 50’s who dig me. So while she’s scarfing seafood with her dysfunctional other, I go hang with the arty couple and have a great time. My friend comes over and we 4 hang and have a great night. Until..
The psychotic bitch, who made such a production about her man being there, LEAVES him there to come next door and throw a hissy fit. She can’t even TRY to fake decorum. She barges in and starts looking around like a wife looking for evidence of infidelity. She even went and found some other building chick and brought her too. We are staring at her like she’s got two heads, incredulous that she is really that insane. I used to use the word crazy arbitrarily, but now I really see what it means. She had no way of moderating herself on any level. She thought it was perfectly normal that she get an attitude..
My friend and I get back in a few hours later to find that her and her dude are rolling their asses off on Ecstasy. It’s like listening to a severely retarded couple trying to discuss their relationship. The bitch had an attitude cause I hung out with the neighbors for "3 and a half hours" but not with her and her man. She was nasty and cold and totally 180 degrees from where she was hours before. At 4am, this punk knocks on my bedroom door, with that jaw-nashing shit that E heads have, telling me that my friend can stay cause HE says so. I look in his eyes and realize that I have to get out of this situation ASAP.
It’s a very fine line I have to walk for the next month. I have to somehow hold my tongue and mask my thoughts until I have enough money to leave. I’m not telling her when or where. I’ll just find another place and I’ll wait for her to go to work and move. Leave the keys with the neighbors. It’s like THAT. I thought I knew people who were crazy, but this is scary. She tells me that she’s scared to death of fires cause she’s had two already and lost everything she had. Mkay. The other day someone comes to the door and she leaves and leaves a pot of boiling water on. Thank god I smelled the bottom of the pot burning and turned it off. She comes back and I tell her she did that and all she was concerned about was why I didn’t hang with her and her man over the weekend. Every time I speak to this woman, I get a feeling of dread cause she is so clearly lost that even logic doesn’t work. You look in her eyes and she doesn’t even get that she’s nuts. That’s the true sign that someone is mentally ill. If you know someone and they say "I think something is wrong with me cause I feel bad" or they know they aren’t happy or well, then chances are they aren’t insane. They just have some issues to sort through. But this is not that case. She goes from one extreme to another with such speed that she can’t see it. I alternate between feeling sorry for her, to feeling like I have to get the hell out of there before something bad happens.
I won’t say that I’m psychic, but I have a bad feeling about the boyfriend. It’s when he shows up that it knocks her off of whatever fragile balance she has. It’s always the same type of guy, no matter what the race is. Insecure, fawning, immature, chaotic, manipulative, unable to stay still, always needs to be drunk or high before confronting anything, easily intimidated and needs to be paid attention to at any cost. I know this type well. I hate that type of guy and he knows it immediately. I am the match to his gasoline cause I have no patience for that type of punk. A guy like him finds nothing wrong with playing on the emotions of a mentally ill woman, and now he sees that I am hip to the kind of asshole he is and he gets no respect from me. Maybe a condescending pleasantness, but never respect. My homeboy is a very large brother whom he is already intimidated by. It’s only a matter of time before he tries to assert his "authority" cause he knows he has none. All I can hope is that this is kept at bay for the next 3 weeks and I can slip out of here quietly.
I have an amazing ability to make friends with people even in the most extreme cases, and her next door neighbors (who have known her all her life and know that she will probably die untreated) are this really cool Afrocentric arty couple in their 50’s who dig me. So while she’s scarfing seafood with her dysfunctional other, I go hang with the arty couple and have a great time. My friend comes over and we 4 hang and have a great night. Until..
The psychotic bitch, who made such a production about her man being there, LEAVES him there to come next door and throw a hissy fit. She can’t even TRY to fake decorum. She barges in and starts looking around like a wife looking for evidence of infidelity. She even went and found some other building chick and brought her too. We are staring at her like she’s got two heads, incredulous that she is really that insane. I used to use the word crazy arbitrarily, but now I really see what it means. She had no way of moderating herself on any level. She thought it was perfectly normal that she get an attitude..
My friend and I get back in a few hours later to find that her and her dude are rolling their asses off on Ecstasy. It’s like listening to a severely retarded couple trying to discuss their relationship. The bitch had an attitude cause I hung out with the neighbors for "3 and a half hours" but not with her and her man. She was nasty and cold and totally 180 degrees from where she was hours before. At 4am, this punk knocks on my bedroom door, with that jaw-nashing shit that E heads have, telling me that my friend can stay cause HE says so. I look in his eyes and realize that I have to get out of this situation ASAP.
It’s a very fine line I have to walk for the next month. I have to somehow hold my tongue and mask my thoughts until I have enough money to leave. I’m not telling her when or where. I’ll just find another place and I’ll wait for her to go to work and move. Leave the keys with the neighbors. It’s like THAT. I thought I knew people who were crazy, but this is scary. She tells me that she’s scared to death of fires cause she’s had two already and lost everything she had. Mkay. The other day someone comes to the door and she leaves and leaves a pot of boiling water on. Thank god I smelled the bottom of the pot burning and turned it off. She comes back and I tell her she did that and all she was concerned about was why I didn’t hang with her and her man over the weekend. Every time I speak to this woman, I get a feeling of dread cause she is so clearly lost that even logic doesn’t work. You look in her eyes and she doesn’t even get that she’s nuts. That’s the true sign that someone is mentally ill. If you know someone and they say "I think something is wrong with me cause I feel bad" or they know they aren’t happy or well, then chances are they aren’t insane. They just have some issues to sort through. But this is not that case. She goes from one extreme to another with such speed that she can’t see it. I alternate between feeling sorry for her, to feeling like I have to get the hell out of there before something bad happens.
I won’t say that I’m psychic, but I have a bad feeling about the boyfriend. It’s when he shows up that it knocks her off of whatever fragile balance she has. It’s always the same type of guy, no matter what the race is. Insecure, fawning, immature, chaotic, manipulative, unable to stay still, always needs to be drunk or high before confronting anything, easily intimidated and needs to be paid attention to at any cost. I know this type well. I hate that type of guy and he knows it immediately. I am the match to his gasoline cause I have no patience for that type of punk. A guy like him finds nothing wrong with playing on the emotions of a mentally ill woman, and now he sees that I am hip to the kind of asshole he is and he gets no respect from me. Maybe a condescending pleasantness, but never respect. My homeboy is a very large brother whom he is already intimidated by. It’s only a matter of time before he tries to assert his "authority" cause he knows he has none. All I can hope is that this is kept at bay for the next 3 weeks and I can slip out of here quietly.
Chicks are losing their shit..
There is a horrible trend I've been unfortunately witnessing for the past couple of years, which just keeps getting worse and worse..
It seems every woman I've roomated with always has some fucked up guy who is making their lives, and the lives of the unlucky people who are around them, unbearable. It's always a drug habit or alcohol problem; it's always about him thinking it's his house cause she lets him stay there and fuck her and eat shit. Maybe he paid a phone or cable bill one month and that entitles him to be a dick cause now it's HIS house and he's paying the bills..
Had my ex-best friend over the summer decide she's going to hook up with a multiple Schedule I drug addicted, gay escort, drug dealing Satanist and allowed him to bring all of his sick bullshit into her life and home. Then she decided that he needs to be accepted by her family while they are focused on the fact that her father is dying of cancer. She brings this asshole to the hospital while the family is trying to hold it together, and the sick freak has a tantrum IN THE HOSPITAL cause the family doesn't like him. Could it be that he couldn't get through Thanksgiving ONE HOUR before he had to run out to sniff? What's most distressing about this sick relationship is that a supposedly intelligent woman felt that she could control this guy and it wound up being the opposite.
PLUS the fact that she LIKES the Satanist stuff and even went so far as to make a "love charm" for this guy with a lock of her hair...Even if you don't believe in those things, who the hell could be that stupid? Now her family is pissed at her and don't want anything to do with her as long as she insists on forcing people to deal with a psycho just cause she's too weak and stupid to rid herself of him. She's even trying to have a baby with him (after having had aborted the last one not less than 6 months ago, combined with the fact that she's having unprotected sex with a drug addicted gay escort..)
Fleeing that situation, I rent a room from a quiet, nice Dominican lady. For a few months, it's cool..the neighbors are retards that think it's ok to blast merengue at top volume at 4am on a Tuesday cause everyone else does, right? But the house is clean, for the most part, quiet, and we are both working women who value peace. My homeboy comes to visit and is very respectful and she is great about it. Then one day I come home and her ex-husband is in the house without her. The door is not locked and he's drunk off his ass. I don't mean tipsy, I mean shitfaced, ossified drunk. He can't stand straight and his eyes are swimming unfocused in his head. I guess he took a shine to me cause he starts asking me where my boyfriend is and have I been working out. Execept be barely speaks English and he's invading my personal space. So I have to become Hard Core Dreadlock Warrior Woman and stare him down so he knows what the deal is. She speaks little english and has no idea what he's saying. I have to wait till the next morning to tell this fuck never to step to me again. I even write the lady a letter in spanish telling her what went down and how it can't become a habit or I have to leave. A week later, her whole 8 member family moves back from the Domincan Republic into a 2 bedroom apartment cause Papi called home and told them the nigger in the house spoke out of turn to him.
So I flee to my current situation. A seemingly intelligent 50 year old black woman who has a junky house, but a large room for rent. She said she worked from home and she just seemed messy, but I can clean my space so what the hell, right? The day I go to look at the apartment (after being sent to see some real horror story places), and she has a young Puerto Rican boyfriend chilling on the couch. Whatever..none of my business..
I knew something was wrong when I was due to move in on a Saturday and she cancels and tells me she had a death in the family and is on LI. Doesn't offer a solution, I just can't move in. And she has to be back in LI on Monday. The next day I move in and she never again mentions the death. Red flag #1. Monday comes and goes and I realize no one has died, she lied. That night I also find out that she has a coke habit that she will make painfully obvious by geeking out for the next three days straight. No job or work, all you hear is sniffing and her walking through the house all night singing and talking to herself. At the apex of this binge, she knocks on the door Fri night, standing there in nothing but a tee shirt and coke all over her nose and face, railing out her mind, telling me how cool I am, and if I wanna party, go for it. She did so much coke that for the following 3 days, she is sick and sleeping and embarrassed. So she tried to make me feel comfortable by promising that will never happen again and for a few days, we get back on track..
Until last night when we are both home chilling after work and someone starts banging on the door. It's PR boyfriend. Then the sick shit begins with her knocking on my door to tell me her man is staying over, but he's drunk, ok? That old sinking feeling creeps in and I know what I'm in for. Of course, it starts coming down to "This is my fucking house and I pay the bills...." They start fighting and yelling and I tell her I no longer feel comfortable having a person like him in the house overnight and she turns to me and says she's sorry but she can't fight him to get him out, and fuck that, he's not leaving, all indignant and ghetto..
Her cousin and his wife live down the hall and they knew what the deal was and offered their help should anything "happen". I go there pissed off and needing to know just what the hell I'm dealing with. I get handed a big knife and told to do something spiritual to calm my energy. What the fuck...
By now, I feel like a refugee who has to pick up and flee again. I get back in the house and now they are fighting again and she calls the cops and LEAVES THE APARTMENT to wait for the cops, locking me in the house with this drunk belligerent man who's yelling to someone on the phone. I decide that if anything is going down, I'm gonna have to Kill Bill-it and confront dude before he gets any ideas. He's in the living room, drunk and smoking a butt, and I go right up to him and break it down. "I don't know you, bro, but this shit is none of my business. If the cops come up here, I ain't involved". Dude starts trying to plead his case TO ME about how fucked up she is and that's why he don't want to come around anymore. So now, I gotta play fucking relationship counselor?!? "I don't give a fuck..I pay rent here to live in peace, not to get in the middle of total strangers bullshit. " I basically used the tactic of "Hey dude, if the cops throw you outta here, don't come looking to fuck up my shit. If they hassle you, take that shit up with your woman and leave me and my shit in peace". Surprisingly, he paused and said "'Ight, boo..you don't have to say nuthin' else. You can go back in your room, I got it. " Cool. The cops come, there's drama and yelling and he goes. She's all apologetic and ashamed, and being that I am very compassionate, I tell her it's ok and get some rest.
But I can't do this anymore. I lived alone for 11 years and all was great UNTIL my house got broken into by an ex-boyfriend (I wasn't there when it happend, thank god), and made me realize that being a solitary woman, as liberating as it is, has some very serious drawbacks. You sacrifice being in a relationship cause you know you have things that have to be accomplished that no man can accomplish for you. You learn to like solitude cause it helps you get in touch with yourself and what you are about. But you are a target because there is no man there to "protect" you. All the independence in the world won't stop some sick fuck from trying to break in and rape you. And unless you happen to be Beatrix Kiddo from Kill Bill and are nice with a sword, you have to live with the real fear that just being a woman living alone is dangerous.
You realize that the only option you have, besides finding someone to take care of you, is to make alot of money to insure you live safely. That's what it takes. You wanna be independent and safe at the same time? Well, you're gonna have to pay for it. You're gonna pay for it if you DON'T have money, so you might as well shell out the dough. Especially in NYC. You want a safe quiet place of your own with security downstairs? Be ready to pay minimum $1200 a month for a closet with a bed. It's either that or your spend your energy desparate to find a husband so your don't have to work and have "security". For a woman like me, that's about as unrealistic as waiting for your prince to come.
I heard today that Desparate Housewives (which is just Sex in the City in the Suburbs) is the highest rated show on the air. Bored stupid white bitches with too much time and money fucking around on their husbands cause security got too boring for them. There needs to be a show called Endangered Single Women and the reality of what that really means.
I'll let you know when I have the first draft ready...
It seems every woman I've roomated with always has some fucked up guy who is making their lives, and the lives of the unlucky people who are around them, unbearable. It's always a drug habit or alcohol problem; it's always about him thinking it's his house cause she lets him stay there and fuck her and eat shit. Maybe he paid a phone or cable bill one month and that entitles him to be a dick cause now it's HIS house and he's paying the bills..
Had my ex-best friend over the summer decide she's going to hook up with a multiple Schedule I drug addicted, gay escort, drug dealing Satanist and allowed him to bring all of his sick bullshit into her life and home. Then she decided that he needs to be accepted by her family while they are focused on the fact that her father is dying of cancer. She brings this asshole to the hospital while the family is trying to hold it together, and the sick freak has a tantrum IN THE HOSPITAL cause the family doesn't like him. Could it be that he couldn't get through Thanksgiving ONE HOUR before he had to run out to sniff? What's most distressing about this sick relationship is that a supposedly intelligent woman felt that she could control this guy and it wound up being the opposite.
PLUS the fact that she LIKES the Satanist stuff and even went so far as to make a "love charm" for this guy with a lock of her hair...Even if you don't believe in those things, who the hell could be that stupid? Now her family is pissed at her and don't want anything to do with her as long as she insists on forcing people to deal with a psycho just cause she's too weak and stupid to rid herself of him. She's even trying to have a baby with him (after having had aborted the last one not less than 6 months ago, combined with the fact that she's having unprotected sex with a drug addicted gay escort..)
Fleeing that situation, I rent a room from a quiet, nice Dominican lady. For a few months, it's cool..the neighbors are retards that think it's ok to blast merengue at top volume at 4am on a Tuesday cause everyone else does, right? But the house is clean, for the most part, quiet, and we are both working women who value peace. My homeboy comes to visit and is very respectful and she is great about it. Then one day I come home and her ex-husband is in the house without her. The door is not locked and he's drunk off his ass. I don't mean tipsy, I mean shitfaced, ossified drunk. He can't stand straight and his eyes are swimming unfocused in his head. I guess he took a shine to me cause he starts asking me where my boyfriend is and have I been working out. Execept be barely speaks English and he's invading my personal space. So I have to become Hard Core Dreadlock Warrior Woman and stare him down so he knows what the deal is. She speaks little english and has no idea what he's saying. I have to wait till the next morning to tell this fuck never to step to me again. I even write the lady a letter in spanish telling her what went down and how it can't become a habit or I have to leave. A week later, her whole 8 member family moves back from the Domincan Republic into a 2 bedroom apartment cause Papi called home and told them the nigger in the house spoke out of turn to him.
So I flee to my current situation. A seemingly intelligent 50 year old black woman who has a junky house, but a large room for rent. She said she worked from home and she just seemed messy, but I can clean my space so what the hell, right? The day I go to look at the apartment (after being sent to see some real horror story places), and she has a young Puerto Rican boyfriend chilling on the couch. Whatever..none of my business..
I knew something was wrong when I was due to move in on a Saturday and she cancels and tells me she had a death in the family and is on LI. Doesn't offer a solution, I just can't move in. And she has to be back in LI on Monday. The next day I move in and she never again mentions the death. Red flag #1. Monday comes and goes and I realize no one has died, she lied. That night I also find out that she has a coke habit that she will make painfully obvious by geeking out for the next three days straight. No job or work, all you hear is sniffing and her walking through the house all night singing and talking to herself. At the apex of this binge, she knocks on the door Fri night, standing there in nothing but a tee shirt and coke all over her nose and face, railing out her mind, telling me how cool I am, and if I wanna party, go for it. She did so much coke that for the following 3 days, she is sick and sleeping and embarrassed. So she tried to make me feel comfortable by promising that will never happen again and for a few days, we get back on track..
Until last night when we are both home chilling after work and someone starts banging on the door. It's PR boyfriend. Then the sick shit begins with her knocking on my door to tell me her man is staying over, but he's drunk, ok? That old sinking feeling creeps in and I know what I'm in for. Of course, it starts coming down to "This is my fucking house and I pay the bills...." They start fighting and yelling and I tell her I no longer feel comfortable having a person like him in the house overnight and she turns to me and says she's sorry but she can't fight him to get him out, and fuck that, he's not leaving, all indignant and ghetto..
Her cousin and his wife live down the hall and they knew what the deal was and offered their help should anything "happen". I go there pissed off and needing to know just what the hell I'm dealing with. I get handed a big knife and told to do something spiritual to calm my energy. What the fuck...
By now, I feel like a refugee who has to pick up and flee again. I get back in the house and now they are fighting again and she calls the cops and LEAVES THE APARTMENT to wait for the cops, locking me in the house with this drunk belligerent man who's yelling to someone on the phone. I decide that if anything is going down, I'm gonna have to Kill Bill-it and confront dude before he gets any ideas. He's in the living room, drunk and smoking a butt, and I go right up to him and break it down. "I don't know you, bro, but this shit is none of my business. If the cops come up here, I ain't involved". Dude starts trying to plead his case TO ME about how fucked up she is and that's why he don't want to come around anymore. So now, I gotta play fucking relationship counselor?!? "I don't give a fuck..I pay rent here to live in peace, not to get in the middle of total strangers bullshit. " I basically used the tactic of "Hey dude, if the cops throw you outta here, don't come looking to fuck up my shit. If they hassle you, take that shit up with your woman and leave me and my shit in peace". Surprisingly, he paused and said "'Ight, boo..you don't have to say nuthin' else. You can go back in your room, I got it. " Cool. The cops come, there's drama and yelling and he goes. She's all apologetic and ashamed, and being that I am very compassionate, I tell her it's ok and get some rest.
But I can't do this anymore. I lived alone for 11 years and all was great UNTIL my house got broken into by an ex-boyfriend (I wasn't there when it happend, thank god), and made me realize that being a solitary woman, as liberating as it is, has some very serious drawbacks. You sacrifice being in a relationship cause you know you have things that have to be accomplished that no man can accomplish for you. You learn to like solitude cause it helps you get in touch with yourself and what you are about. But you are a target because there is no man there to "protect" you. All the independence in the world won't stop some sick fuck from trying to break in and rape you. And unless you happen to be Beatrix Kiddo from Kill Bill and are nice with a sword, you have to live with the real fear that just being a woman living alone is dangerous.
You realize that the only option you have, besides finding someone to take care of you, is to make alot of money to insure you live safely. That's what it takes. You wanna be independent and safe at the same time? Well, you're gonna have to pay for it. You're gonna pay for it if you DON'T have money, so you might as well shell out the dough. Especially in NYC. You want a safe quiet place of your own with security downstairs? Be ready to pay minimum $1200 a month for a closet with a bed. It's either that or your spend your energy desparate to find a husband so your don't have to work and have "security". For a woman like me, that's about as unrealistic as waiting for your prince to come.
I heard today that Desparate Housewives (which is just Sex in the City in the Suburbs) is the highest rated show on the air. Bored stupid white bitches with too much time and money fucking around on their husbands cause security got too boring for them. There needs to be a show called Endangered Single Women and the reality of what that really means.
I'll let you know when I have the first draft ready...
The Clock is ticking..
This may sound morbid (when do I NOT sound morbid these days), but I, like many others, have grown to hate the holidays.
Nothing against Christmas cheer, but this time of year has a strange effect on people. If you are a reasonably happy sort of person and you have cute little kids around that you enjoy having there, then this time of year is a happy, giggly mess of feelgood emotions. But if you're just another jaded, frustrated, morbid fuck like I am, this time of year is a real fucking downer.
I traced the impetus to this sad train of thought to the sudden death of my grandfather on Dec. 23, 1982, which places me at 12 years old. My first meeting with Death and I wasn't really impressed. My grandpa was a very successful alcoholic, who was for the most part, was a jovial guy. Not your mean, abusive drunk, rather a funny but underlyingly sad drunk. I remember being 4 or 5 and he would call me George: "Hey George...go get me another beer" or "George, change the channel to 9 for me, k, pal?" He did it so much that I didn't question it, I was George. If he was really drunk, I got called Charlie and again, being the wickedly smart little bugger I was, I went with it. I remember decorating the Christmas tree and listening to the John Lennon tribute on the radio cause they started doing that around the time he died (which is another story in itself that I will tell later..) My aunt kept calling for my mom who hadn't come home from work yet. She gets home and gets the call and starts sobbing. My mother NEVER cries and to see her sobbing like a kid scared the hell outta me. I thought she was joking. But she wasn't.
So began the end of my innocent happy holiday days. Ever since that year, it all kind of deteriorated. The teenage years of the 80's when I wanted to dress like Denise Huxtable from the Cosby show and they wanted me to dress like Laura fucking Ingalls. They'd get me stuff like panties and socks or bras that didn't fit. One could simply look at me and know at a glance I wasn't a B cup, but dammit, if they said I was a B-cup, then to hell with my C-quickly turning into D-Cup titties..
Then was the cunty little practice of getting me something that they KNEW I would despise just so they could go "Well, if you don't want it you ungrateful little bitch, then I'll keep it". THEN WHY THE FUCK DIDN'T YOU JUST BUY IT FOR YOURSELF???? Years of watching my family drink themselves into fights and bad games of Pochino, all the while sending me to make drinks and tend to the brood of kids they weren't paying attention to..
So now I get ready to swerve into age 35 and wonder what the hell is left? In the last couple of years, I have developed somewhat pagan leanings and the concept of Yule appeals to me. From the darkness the light returns and grows stronger. I dig that. Makes alot of sense. More sense than living in an apartment on the 6th floor when I was 4 and wondering 1) How did Santa deliver presents to you if you only have a radiator?, and 2) Did Santa have keys to everyone's apartment in NYC and how did he know who's was which and 3) Did he use the elevator or the stairs? and 4) Where did he park the reindeer? These are the things that kept my tiny mind spinning on Christmas Eve.
For the last 8 years, by celebrations consist of stringing those cool white icicle looking lights in my space, with my pointsetta and my big white candles. Instead of buying useless shit that I know the people I'm giving them to will never use, I make things..jewelry, collage boxes, crocheted stuff, hand painted things. The few people in my life who are truly enlightened really love the gifts cause they know it was made just for them. And I don't feel like such a materialistic whore. But that's just me.
If any of you are feeling the same, take some solice in knowing that time flies and before you know it, it'll be Valentine's Day and a whole new reason to want to wretch...
PEACE, LOVE and BEATZ!!
Nothing against Christmas cheer, but this time of year has a strange effect on people. If you are a reasonably happy sort of person and you have cute little kids around that you enjoy having there, then this time of year is a happy, giggly mess of feelgood emotions. But if you're just another jaded, frustrated, morbid fuck like I am, this time of year is a real fucking downer.
I traced the impetus to this sad train of thought to the sudden death of my grandfather on Dec. 23, 1982, which places me at 12 years old. My first meeting with Death and I wasn't really impressed. My grandpa was a very successful alcoholic, who was for the most part, was a jovial guy. Not your mean, abusive drunk, rather a funny but underlyingly sad drunk. I remember being 4 or 5 and he would call me George: "Hey George...go get me another beer" or "George, change the channel to 9 for me, k, pal?" He did it so much that I didn't question it, I was George. If he was really drunk, I got called Charlie and again, being the wickedly smart little bugger I was, I went with it. I remember decorating the Christmas tree and listening to the John Lennon tribute on the radio cause they started doing that around the time he died (which is another story in itself that I will tell later..) My aunt kept calling for my mom who hadn't come home from work yet. She gets home and gets the call and starts sobbing. My mother NEVER cries and to see her sobbing like a kid scared the hell outta me. I thought she was joking. But she wasn't.
So began the end of my innocent happy holiday days. Ever since that year, it all kind of deteriorated. The teenage years of the 80's when I wanted to dress like Denise Huxtable from the Cosby show and they wanted me to dress like Laura fucking Ingalls. They'd get me stuff like panties and socks or bras that didn't fit. One could simply look at me and know at a glance I wasn't a B cup, but dammit, if they said I was a B-cup, then to hell with my C-quickly turning into D-Cup titties..
Then was the cunty little practice of getting me something that they KNEW I would despise just so they could go "Well, if you don't want it you ungrateful little bitch, then I'll keep it". THEN WHY THE FUCK DIDN'T YOU JUST BUY IT FOR YOURSELF???? Years of watching my family drink themselves into fights and bad games of Pochino, all the while sending me to make drinks and tend to the brood of kids they weren't paying attention to..
So now I get ready to swerve into age 35 and wonder what the hell is left? In the last couple of years, I have developed somewhat pagan leanings and the concept of Yule appeals to me. From the darkness the light returns and grows stronger. I dig that. Makes alot of sense. More sense than living in an apartment on the 6th floor when I was 4 and wondering 1) How did Santa deliver presents to you if you only have a radiator?, and 2) Did Santa have keys to everyone's apartment in NYC and how did he know who's was which and 3) Did he use the elevator or the stairs? and 4) Where did he park the reindeer? These are the things that kept my tiny mind spinning on Christmas Eve.
For the last 8 years, by celebrations consist of stringing those cool white icicle looking lights in my space, with my pointsetta and my big white candles. Instead of buying useless shit that I know the people I'm giving them to will never use, I make things..jewelry, collage boxes, crocheted stuff, hand painted things. The few people in my life who are truly enlightened really love the gifts cause they know it was made just for them. And I don't feel like such a materialistic whore. But that's just me.
If any of you are feeling the same, take some solice in knowing that time flies and before you know it, it'll be Valentine's Day and a whole new reason to want to wretch...
PEACE, LOVE and BEATZ!!
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