It was hard going back to work today, and as I dragged myself into Lone Mountain (the building where my class takes place--a really gorgeous building, actually, with a great view of San Francisco), I had a sobering realization: I know the exact bathroom habits of all the other ladies who teach on Lone Mountain on Tuesday and Thursday mornings. Every Tuesday and Thursday morning, I visit the same bathroom and see the same ladies. I have never spoken to them, and we don't know each other's names, but there they are.
I even know which STALLS they like to use. I am not kidding.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Monday, March 24, 2008
On the other hand
Daisy was literally a pain in the butt today. We were walking in Sutro Heights Park with my neighbor Robyn and her very cute son Eli. I was standing and talking to Robyn at one point, and Daisy was playing near a stone deer she particularly likes. I noticed she seemed to be getting kind of irritated by not having my undivided attention, but it was nothing too awful so I ignored her. Suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my upper thigh and turned around expecting--I don't know what. A small dog, maybe. I honestly don't think I would have connected it with Daisy if Robyn hadn't said, "She just bit you in the butt!"
So, there it is: my verbally precocious daughter bit me in the butt today, instead of using her language skills to express herself to me. I reprimanded her, but I was kind of shocked, as well as embarrassed, so I didn't have a clear disciplinary tactic in mind. I'm going to have to come up with one, though, because I want to send a very clear message if something like this happens again. This is the first terribly naughty thing she has done, and I was unprepared! It hurt, too. Really a lot.
Another annoying habit she's developed is not liking foods she previously liked (such as PIZZA), spitting out the food we give her, and handing it to us, saying superciliously, "THANK you." I wish I could better describe the tone... it's so prim and haughty, exactly like the tone an adult would use if she wanted to thank someone insincerely, being polite on the surface but fully conveying the sarcasm at the same time. "THANK you!"
So, there it is: my verbally precocious daughter bit me in the butt today, instead of using her language skills to express herself to me. I reprimanded her, but I was kind of shocked, as well as embarrassed, so I didn't have a clear disciplinary tactic in mind. I'm going to have to come up with one, though, because I want to send a very clear message if something like this happens again. This is the first terribly naughty thing she has done, and I was unprepared! It hurt, too. Really a lot.
Another annoying habit she's developed is not liking foods she previously liked (such as PIZZA), spitting out the food we give her, and handing it to us, saying superciliously, "THANK you." I wish I could better describe the tone... it's so prim and haughty, exactly like the tone an adult would use if she wanted to thank someone insincerely, being polite on the surface but fully conveying the sarcasm at the same time. "THANK you!"
Obnoxiously braggy post
I read in a child development newsletter today that you can expect most two-year-olds to be able to put two words together, and that at three they start to put three and more words together. This CANNOT be true. My girl has been putting more than three words together since 18 months. I know she is on the precocious side verbally (just as she was slow to develop some of the gross motor skills), but she can't be that far ahead. Today I recorded her (finally, on camcorder), reciting "Baa baa Black Sheep"--every single word, with no prompting from me. Okay, I had more obnoxioius bragging, but I have to go change a diaper.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
How I know I'm out of touch with the younger generation
Today on the radio I heard Avril Lavigne's "Girlfriend," and, just like the other times I've heard it, I felt shocked and embarrassed.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Philadelphia speech
I wanted to write to my blog today that I thought Barack Obama's speech today, in which he addressed the concerns people have over his association with Jeremiah Wright, was a great speech. I was wondering how he would deal with this potential obstacle to his campaign, and I was truly and deeply impressed by how he did. In fact, I think it may be the best speech I've heard him give yet. I admire the way he took the issue head on, trying to actually explain his reasoning for continuing to be in the church and for why he can't completely disavow Wright, instead of trying in a fake way to distance himself entirely from Wright or put some facile political spin on the whole thing. I thought it was brave. He spoke to his audience in a way that respected their intelligence--that assumed they could try to grapple with this difficult point in a real way, instead of needing some little bumpersticker answer to the whole thing, some simplified catch phrase to make the whole thing go away. He actually talked to us about what was going through his mind and how complex the issue is for him. As I was listening, I realized that I almost never feel this way listening to a mainstream political speech. He was saying yes, this is hard to understand, and not completely pretty on the surface, but let's look deeper and try to understand.
The speech was substantive and felt genuine to me. What he said about the contradictions and painful divisions within communities we're part of made sense to me. The things that make us up are not always comfortably unified, and sometimes the people most intimate to us say things that make us "cringe," as he put it, but it would be dishonest to say that they are not still a part of who we are, to pretend a total distance. I also liked the way he tried to show the context from which Wright's anger arises, instead of trying to write him off entirely as a nut case. He showed that that anger has reasons and justifications, even if he also needed to say he didn't agree with all the specific manifestations of it in Wright's sermons. The speech (the parts in which he remembered the struggles and injustices black people have faced in this country) was also an indirect answer to Geraldine Ferraro's insane comments about how lucky he is to be a black man in this campaign, or he wouldn't be where he is.
I wanted this post to be a lot better, but I am too tired now after my long day to do better, so I will leave it at that. I just wanted to record how surprised, in a good way, I felt listening to this speech-- that it wasn't what I had been expecting. I think I'd been expecting something less honest, more like a superficially indignant, politically necessary, total rejection of Wright (what most candidates would do). What actually happened, what Obama decided to do, was so much better than that. It was the kind of speech that asks that its listeners be nuanced thinkers whose minds can grasp complexities and make sometimes unexpected connections, and I am soooo not used to that after years of listening to dull, trite, talking-points oriented speeches that flatten and dilute issues and talk down to us like children.
The speech was substantive and felt genuine to me. What he said about the contradictions and painful divisions within communities we're part of made sense to me. The things that make us up are not always comfortably unified, and sometimes the people most intimate to us say things that make us "cringe," as he put it, but it would be dishonest to say that they are not still a part of who we are, to pretend a total distance. I also liked the way he tried to show the context from which Wright's anger arises, instead of trying to write him off entirely as a nut case. He showed that that anger has reasons and justifications, even if he also needed to say he didn't agree with all the specific manifestations of it in Wright's sermons. The speech (the parts in which he remembered the struggles and injustices black people have faced in this country) was also an indirect answer to Geraldine Ferraro's insane comments about how lucky he is to be a black man in this campaign, or he wouldn't be where he is.
I wanted this post to be a lot better, but I am too tired now after my long day to do better, so I will leave it at that. I just wanted to record how surprised, in a good way, I felt listening to this speech-- that it wasn't what I had been expecting. I think I'd been expecting something less honest, more like a superficially indignant, politically necessary, total rejection of Wright (what most candidates would do). What actually happened, what Obama decided to do, was so much better than that. It was the kind of speech that asks that its listeners be nuanced thinkers whose minds can grasp complexities and make sometimes unexpected connections, and I am soooo not used to that after years of listening to dull, trite, talking-points oriented speeches that flatten and dilute issues and talk down to us like children.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Tagged
I am not handy with technology so I'm not sure how to create a neat little link. I was tagged by the lovely friend who owns this blog:
http://waitingforatrain-linda.blogspot.com/
What were you doing 10 yrs ago?
Uhhh... let's see. I was in graduate school in Eugene at the University of Oregon, the program where I went on to get my Master's and PhD in English. I had been married to Mark for almost one year. I was so immature that it almost boggles the mind. I'm at a loss to capture said immaturity in a succinct way for this pithy meme entry, so please take my word for it.
Snacks I enjoy
Pickles
Olives
Yogurt
Japanese rice crackers
Green tea frappuccinos (are those a "snack," technically?)
Five things on my to-do list today
Go grocery shopping
Go running at the YMCA
Print out newly taken pictures of my daughter
Grade a few papers
Bore my reader(s) senseless with this particular meme entry. Sorry. I wish my day had been more exciting. Because this was so boring, I will share the possibly scintillating detail that I am a COMPULSIVE list-maker so this question was easy for me. I constantly make lists to stave off anxiety, but then the sheer length of the lists causes me more anxiety, plus the fear that there is some old list floating around that I never finished checking off, so then I end up writing lists that say things like, "Find old list and make sure you finished everything on it."
Things I would do if I became a billionaire
This is hard for me, because I don't really think about it. I have never felt like thinking about it, because it won't happen and all that. So I feel kind of sad and cheesy answering it. Here goes, anyway. I would immediately put away a big chunk for my daughter, into some kind of safe, secure account that would grow and grow and help her go to whatever college she wants to, someday. I would distribute money to my family and friends so that they could lead better lives and have safer futures. I would pay off my debts. I would probably buy a not obscenely big but still comfortably sized house; I might have to argue with Mark about where it would be. He would want it to be in San Francisco, I predict, but I would probably choose to live somewhere in Sonoma County, nearer to my parents, and where I could have a nice yard for my daughter to play in. I would put away some money for travel, because I have never traveled outside of the U.S., except to Canada a few times. (Okay, that sounds like I am disparaging Canada, but I don't mean to; I am just illustrating the extreme limitations of my traveling experience, though I have been in almost every state in the U.S. on road trips my family took since I was two years old.)
I would definitely donate a good portion of it to charitable causes, but I don't want to speak hastily about which ones because I'd have to sit and think very carefully about that first. There would be so many candidates; it wouldn't be an easy decision. I guess if I'm really a billionaire, though, I could have the option of giving a ton of money to a few specific causes, or spreading it out very widely across many causes! What a shame we'll never find out what my philanthropy would have done for the world... since I can't remember the last time an adjunct college writing teacher became a billionaire.
I would buy Mark whatever electronic/musical equipment he's always dreamed of having. I would buy myself some new clothes and shoes, because I desperately need them and it's really pathetic. I would buy myself a bed frame and a new couch, because we still have the one we bought in EUGENE for SIX DOLLARS.
3 bad habits
Procrastinating
Obsessing over things I can't control
Going to bed too late
I have many, many, many other bad habits, but I am limited to three so I'll stop now.
5 places I have lived
Northport, NY (ages 0-18)
Claremont, CA (ages 18-21)
Eugene, OR (ages 21-27)
San Francisco, CA (ages 27 to the present)
There you have it. I have not lived in five places--just four. Unless you count the town I was born in: Syosset, NY. I guess I lived there for a day or two.
Jobs I have had
Babysitter
Candy striper/delivered food and fed people/waitress at hospital coffee shop
Landscapers' assistant (I did very little; I remember posing decoratively on a rich person's lawn with a hose, aiming it at a tree. I think, in retrospect, the boss was trying to sleep with me and that was why he hired me)
Library page
Server of food to big alumni events at college
Computer lab consultant in college
Annoying person who calls you on the phone to raise $ for her college annual fund
Writing Center consultant at 3 colleges
Graduate teaching assistant of various courses at several colleges
Copy editor
College writing teacher
I must have had other jobs but those are the ones I can think of right now.
Things people don’t know about me
My family owned a wolf when I was a child
I always wanted to play the bad guy in childhood games
I am afraid of flying (some people probably know that)
I feel very insecure about my ability to use a lot of technology, even, like, the SLIDE projector at school, so I still write everything on the chalkboard
I got a 5 on the AP Calculus exam in high school (that will shock people!) but I consider myself very weak in math
I was a spelling bee champion
I have to work very hard not to let sad thoughts get me down, because I tend to be sad and sort of negative about things generally (I think that will surprise some people)
As a child I had an obsessive fear of vampires (some people probably know that)
I really like miniature things and, oh, if I come into millions of dollars, as the previous question mentioned, I will buy a beautiful Victorian dollhouse and fill it with wonderful miniature things
I have a terrible anxiety about being made to tag people by memes.
That leads beautifully into my final comment: I think I am supposed to tag people, but I am going to have to let people be self-tagged, if they so desire!
http://waitingforatrain-linda.blogspot.com/
What were you doing 10 yrs ago?
Uhhh... let's see. I was in graduate school in Eugene at the University of Oregon, the program where I went on to get my Master's and PhD in English. I had been married to Mark for almost one year. I was so immature that it almost boggles the mind. I'm at a loss to capture said immaturity in a succinct way for this pithy meme entry, so please take my word for it.
Snacks I enjoy
Pickles
Olives
Yogurt
Japanese rice crackers
Green tea frappuccinos (are those a "snack," technically?)
Five things on my to-do list today
Go grocery shopping
Go running at the YMCA
Print out newly taken pictures of my daughter
Grade a few papers
Bore my reader(s) senseless with this particular meme entry. Sorry. I wish my day had been more exciting. Because this was so boring, I will share the possibly scintillating detail that I am a COMPULSIVE list-maker so this question was easy for me. I constantly make lists to stave off anxiety, but then the sheer length of the lists causes me more anxiety, plus the fear that there is some old list floating around that I never finished checking off, so then I end up writing lists that say things like, "Find old list and make sure you finished everything on it."
Things I would do if I became a billionaire
This is hard for me, because I don't really think about it. I have never felt like thinking about it, because it won't happen and all that. So I feel kind of sad and cheesy answering it. Here goes, anyway. I would immediately put away a big chunk for my daughter, into some kind of safe, secure account that would grow and grow and help her go to whatever college she wants to, someday. I would distribute money to my family and friends so that they could lead better lives and have safer futures. I would pay off my debts. I would probably buy a not obscenely big but still comfortably sized house; I might have to argue with Mark about where it would be. He would want it to be in San Francisco, I predict, but I would probably choose to live somewhere in Sonoma County, nearer to my parents, and where I could have a nice yard for my daughter to play in. I would put away some money for travel, because I have never traveled outside of the U.S., except to Canada a few times. (Okay, that sounds like I am disparaging Canada, but I don't mean to; I am just illustrating the extreme limitations of my traveling experience, though I have been in almost every state in the U.S. on road trips my family took since I was two years old.)
I would definitely donate a good portion of it to charitable causes, but I don't want to speak hastily about which ones because I'd have to sit and think very carefully about that first. There would be so many candidates; it wouldn't be an easy decision. I guess if I'm really a billionaire, though, I could have the option of giving a ton of money to a few specific causes, or spreading it out very widely across many causes! What a shame we'll never find out what my philanthropy would have done for the world... since I can't remember the last time an adjunct college writing teacher became a billionaire.
I would buy Mark whatever electronic/musical equipment he's always dreamed of having. I would buy myself some new clothes and shoes, because I desperately need them and it's really pathetic. I would buy myself a bed frame and a new couch, because we still have the one we bought in EUGENE for SIX DOLLARS.
3 bad habits
Procrastinating
Obsessing over things I can't control
Going to bed too late
I have many, many, many other bad habits, but I am limited to three so I'll stop now.
5 places I have lived
Northport, NY (ages 0-18)
Claremont, CA (ages 18-21)
Eugene, OR (ages 21-27)
San Francisco, CA (ages 27 to the present)
There you have it. I have not lived in five places--just four. Unless you count the town I was born in: Syosset, NY. I guess I lived there for a day or two.
Jobs I have had
Babysitter
Candy striper/delivered food and fed people/waitress at hospital coffee shop
Landscapers' assistant (I did very little; I remember posing decoratively on a rich person's lawn with a hose, aiming it at a tree. I think, in retrospect, the boss was trying to sleep with me and that was why he hired me)
Library page
Server of food to big alumni events at college
Computer lab consultant in college
Annoying person who calls you on the phone to raise $ for her college annual fund
Writing Center consultant at 3 colleges
Graduate teaching assistant of various courses at several colleges
Copy editor
College writing teacher
I must have had other jobs but those are the ones I can think of right now.
Things people don’t know about me
My family owned a wolf when I was a child
I always wanted to play the bad guy in childhood games
I am afraid of flying (some people probably know that)
I feel very insecure about my ability to use a lot of technology, even, like, the SLIDE projector at school, so I still write everything on the chalkboard
I got a 5 on the AP Calculus exam in high school (that will shock people!) but I consider myself very weak in math
I was a spelling bee champion
I have to work very hard not to let sad thoughts get me down, because I tend to be sad and sort of negative about things generally (I think that will surprise some people)
As a child I had an obsessive fear of vampires (some people probably know that)
I really like miniature things and, oh, if I come into millions of dollars, as the previous question mentioned, I will buy a beautiful Victorian dollhouse and fill it with wonderful miniature things
I have a terrible anxiety about being made to tag people by memes.
That leads beautifully into my final comment: I think I am supposed to tag people, but I am going to have to let people be self-tagged, if they so desire!
Saturday, March 15, 2008
My manager has been removed from his post
I am so very, very grateful to my fellow tenant who took it upon himself to organize everyone, gather up their various accounts of this man's behavior, and pursue our elusive owners doggedly until he finally got a result. Being a leader is not my forte. I am very glad it is the forte of others.
I'll just say one thing for myself, non-leader though I am: once I learned how much worse this manager had been to others than he had been to me, I knew I would never back down until he was removed.
I'll just say one thing for myself, non-leader though I am: once I learned how much worse this manager had been to others than he had been to me, I knew I would never back down until he was removed.
I guess there are some people reading this blog?
Okay; I need to apologize. I honestly thought I was writing to a void. I hope recent posts of mine haven't offended anyone. Please know that I would never write something potentially hurtful about anyone if there was even the remotest chance they were reading this blog. (I.e., my post about feeling hurt by a friend; I would never post something like that about anyone I gave this silly blog's address to. But the point of that post was not to bash the friend, but to explain that I felt stymied by my inability to express a feeling of hurt to her in a way that wouldn't lead to melodramas.) The truth is, a big part of why I started this blog is that I need to feel less like I am censoring myself. I want to be a little more open. I want to feel a little less inhibited by my pathological tendency to try to please everyone in the world. I think I need to, rather badly. Perhaps then I should be writing in a completely private form; I am not sure there's any argument for not doing so. I haven't entirely figured out what this blog is. If you actually want to read it, I appreciate that, I really do. I hope the Me that emerges won't be too off-putting. There, you see? I'm doing it again!
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Try again
Well, I have to admit, it's a bit annoying: if you do something Daisy finds entertaining, she yells, "Try again! Try again!" It amuses us that she uses this particular phrase-- like you didn't do it right the first time and you need to try again.
Did I mention she does a British accent?
Did I mention she does a British accent?
My baby gets postmodern
Daisy's Peter Rabbit book features a little image of Peter reading the book named after him, on the title page, along with other little images, of Squirrel Nutkin and other Beatrix Potter characters.
Just now Daisy pointed to the picture of Peter reading and said, "Peter Rabbit's reading about... Peter Rabbit." That must really expand her mind.
Just now Daisy pointed to the picture of Peter reading and said, "Peter Rabbit's reading about... Peter Rabbit." That must really expand her mind.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Ya know what's scary?
Let me tell you. It's when--after telling yourself for weeks, "Stop being so paranoid! You probably don't need to change the lock on your apartment door. You probably don't need to shove a chair under the doorknob every night. Your manager isn't coming to kill you in a hail of psychotic bullets--that's a paranoid fantasy scenario"--you talk to two other perfectly sane, well-adjusted, normal tenants in your building, whom you've never shared any information with whatsoever, and they independently tell you that this is what THEY ARE THINKING, TOO. Down to every last detail: the chained door, the desire for new locks, even the HAIL OF BULLETS.
As it turns out, I am one of the people with the LEAST cause for complaint against our scary, scary, scary manager.
As it turns out, I am one of the people with the LEAST cause for complaint against our scary, scary, scary manager.
As I was taking a bath today, I heard a persistent knocking on the door.
Me: Who's there.
Long pause. More knocking.
Me: WHO'S THERE?
Wee voice: Gompy.
Me: No, seriously. Who is there?
Pause.
Wee voice: It's Rumpelstilts.
*******************
Today, I am also reporting that Daisy said with perfect clarity, "No more monkeys jumping on the bed." She is talking so much it's out of control. And she does a BRITISH ACCENT. I am not kidding. Yes, she is imitating Teletubbies; but if anything, isn't that an argument for more TV watching among the young? I mean, the kid can do accents!
Me: Who's there.
Long pause. More knocking.
Me: WHO'S THERE?
Wee voice: Gompy.
Me: No, seriously. Who is there?
Pause.
Wee voice: It's Rumpelstilts.
*******************
Today, I am also reporting that Daisy said with perfect clarity, "No more monkeys jumping on the bed." She is talking so much it's out of control. And she does a BRITISH ACCENT. I am not kidding. Yes, she is imitating Teletubbies; but if anything, isn't that an argument for more TV watching among the young? I mean, the kid can do accents!
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Whoa
I concealed my identity so well in this blog that I almost just successfully concealed it from mySELF. Just took me half an hour to sign in to this blog because I couldn't remember my username (though I remembered my password, uselessly enough).
I feel strangely liberated in this blog because I don't think anyone is reading it. Therefore, if anyone happens to be reading this, be aware of that scintillating fact--I am more uncensored than usual. Whoooopeee! Actually, it is kind of a big deal, because I can't help censoring myself habitually and pathologically, and when I think anyone is reading what I write, the self-consciousness kicks in big time. I have a really deep longing to be less censored, which is part of the reason I created this blog. Anyway, two things are on my mind tonight.
1) There is a rebellion going on in this building against our manager, who has treated me really terribly. It's been a very interesting and different experience for me. When all this crappy stuff started happening, Mark wanted right away to talk to other tenants, gather their experiences, and see if anyone else felt the way we did.
I didn't want to.
Why not, you ask? Because that sort of thing has always burned me in the past. When, in the past, I (or Mark and I and a friend of ours, in the case that springs to mind most readily) was treated in a truly abominable and unacceptable way, I found that friends weren't willing to support me, by and large. Or, they offered support of a very limited, staying-neutral-and-protecting-themselves sort of way. At the time I was surprised, disappointed, sad, pissed off, in varying degrees depending on the specific people. After awhile, though, I accepted it. It started to seem natural and inevitable: people don't want to get involved in other people's messes. They want to stay out of it. Makes sense. Even if they care about you, they don't care enough to mess up their own lives, potentially, over it. If I sound bitter, I really don't intend to. It does make sense to me, and who knows if I'd be any different, in their shoes? The only thing that sort of gnawed away at me was the fear that I wasn't believed. I wanted to be believed, when I was telling the truth. I think people have a tendency not to want to believe things that are really, really bad and unfair. They want to say, "There must be two sides to this story"--but sometimes, SOMEtimes, there are not. Anyway, in my past: Bad Things happened--Very Bad Things; told friends; asked for support; was told by quite a few people I trusted that it couldn't be, just as I said it was, and that they didn't want to be involved (basically). Over time, I have pretty much accepted this and, again, don't mean to sound bitter about it, because with time, I have come to understand a bit more where those people were coming from, and have learned to adjust my expectations of other people.
The point is, though, I didn't want to reach out to other tenants because I was sure the same thing was going to happen all over again and I didn't want to go through it again. But we HAVE ended up talking to people, and something very different came about. Others felt the same way. Some felt even more strongly than we did. We gained wonderful allies. We felt less alone. And now we are part of a process of trying to get this awful man removed as our manager. That is a good thing. He is not the sort of person you want having the keys to your apartment: a bigoted, volatile, mentally unstable, angry, angry man. I am not alone; other people are helping me, and I am helping them. We are in this together. No one I've told my story to has made me feel like I am insane. They all seem completely non-shocked and then share stories of their own. Although this is, of course, a totally unpleasant experience to go through, it is so much better to go through it WITH other people.
#2) A friend hurt me recently with some remarks, and this is something I'd like to write more about in a later post, but can't right now because I have too much work to do. That's not exactly what this Number Two is about. What it's about is that I have tried to write a letter to her, and I can't. I mean, I HAVE; I've written several drafts of letters to her. At least three drafts. None of them can be sent. I keep thinking I need to walk away, take a deep breath, come back, and try the letter again. But I've been doing that for a month, and now, at last, I finally believe this letter can't be written. Which means, unfortunately, that I have to let her get away with what she said to me. It's pissing me off, but I feel trapped. I can't seem to write a letter to her that could actually be sent. It's a very frustrating thing to experience, especially for someone who has always wanted to believe that words are her friends and that if she tries hard enough, she can express anything she needs to express, somehow, some way.
Well, I've got more thoughts on both the numbered items on my list, but I have to go for now. It's kind of fun being this uncensored me... fun may not be the right word, but it's something good.
I feel strangely liberated in this blog because I don't think anyone is reading it. Therefore, if anyone happens to be reading this, be aware of that scintillating fact--I am more uncensored than usual. Whoooopeee! Actually, it is kind of a big deal, because I can't help censoring myself habitually and pathologically, and when I think anyone is reading what I write, the self-consciousness kicks in big time. I have a really deep longing to be less censored, which is part of the reason I created this blog. Anyway, two things are on my mind tonight.
1) There is a rebellion going on in this building against our manager, who has treated me really terribly. It's been a very interesting and different experience for me. When all this crappy stuff started happening, Mark wanted right away to talk to other tenants, gather their experiences, and see if anyone else felt the way we did.
I didn't want to.
Why not, you ask? Because that sort of thing has always burned me in the past. When, in the past, I (or Mark and I and a friend of ours, in the case that springs to mind most readily) was treated in a truly abominable and unacceptable way, I found that friends weren't willing to support me, by and large. Or, they offered support of a very limited, staying-neutral-and-protecting-themselves sort of way. At the time I was surprised, disappointed, sad, pissed off, in varying degrees depending on the specific people. After awhile, though, I accepted it. It started to seem natural and inevitable: people don't want to get involved in other people's messes. They want to stay out of it. Makes sense. Even if they care about you, they don't care enough to mess up their own lives, potentially, over it. If I sound bitter, I really don't intend to. It does make sense to me, and who knows if I'd be any different, in their shoes? The only thing that sort of gnawed away at me was the fear that I wasn't believed. I wanted to be believed, when I was telling the truth. I think people have a tendency not to want to believe things that are really, really bad and unfair. They want to say, "There must be two sides to this story"--but sometimes, SOMEtimes, there are not. Anyway, in my past: Bad Things happened--Very Bad Things; told friends; asked for support; was told by quite a few people I trusted that it couldn't be, just as I said it was, and that they didn't want to be involved (basically). Over time, I have pretty much accepted this and, again, don't mean to sound bitter about it, because with time, I have come to understand a bit more where those people were coming from, and have learned to adjust my expectations of other people.
The point is, though, I didn't want to reach out to other tenants because I was sure the same thing was going to happen all over again and I didn't want to go through it again. But we HAVE ended up talking to people, and something very different came about. Others felt the same way. Some felt even more strongly than we did. We gained wonderful allies. We felt less alone. And now we are part of a process of trying to get this awful man removed as our manager. That is a good thing. He is not the sort of person you want having the keys to your apartment: a bigoted, volatile, mentally unstable, angry, angry man. I am not alone; other people are helping me, and I am helping them. We are in this together. No one I've told my story to has made me feel like I am insane. They all seem completely non-shocked and then share stories of their own. Although this is, of course, a totally unpleasant experience to go through, it is so much better to go through it WITH other people.
#2) A friend hurt me recently with some remarks, and this is something I'd like to write more about in a later post, but can't right now because I have too much work to do. That's not exactly what this Number Two is about. What it's about is that I have tried to write a letter to her, and I can't. I mean, I HAVE; I've written several drafts of letters to her. At least three drafts. None of them can be sent. I keep thinking I need to walk away, take a deep breath, come back, and try the letter again. But I've been doing that for a month, and now, at last, I finally believe this letter can't be written. Which means, unfortunately, that I have to let her get away with what she said to me. It's pissing me off, but I feel trapped. I can't seem to write a letter to her that could actually be sent. It's a very frustrating thing to experience, especially for someone who has always wanted to believe that words are her friends and that if she tries hard enough, she can express anything she needs to express, somehow, some way.
Well, I've got more thoughts on both the numbered items on my list, but I have to go for now. It's kind of fun being this uncensored me... fun may not be the right word, but it's something good.
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