The Neighbors who Bullied/Part Une

Last night I couldn't sleep, because I started thinking back, back to a time when I felt like all was lost. It was the beginning of my discovery that even successful people could be jerks. I couldn't believe that people were capable of the things that I will tell you about. Boy, I was in for it.

Once I lived in a two story house duplex,whose outside looked disheveled, distressed, and practically destroyed, like a pair of boyfriend jeans. The rent was cheap, and with some minor tweaks to the inside of my second floor apartment, (painting the floors, painting the walls) it was pretty fabulous. I remember feeling like I had the best set up in the world. I had lovely neighbors that lived below me, They were art students, young, statue-esq, beautiful people that had great great senses of humor, and a dog named Dracula Snake. Coincidentally I happened to live directly next door to an illustration professor (at the same college that both my neighbors and sister attended) and her boyfriend. I was familiar with both of them from a distance; meaning that I had been introduced to them previously, been to parties that both of them had attended, and we knew some of the same people. I thought wow! I really lucked out. Until it got weird. Like super weird.

The bizarre behavior seemed to escalate as soon as the temperatures began to rise. So in the Spring, when I decided to improve the outside of the duplex is when the first scent of disillusionment hit. I was always a fan of plants, and flowers, gardening was relaxing,  so I invested in huge flower bouquets to hang on the porch, annuals to plant in a bed around the perimeter of the house, bricked colored mulch, and several other beautiful green things.

I borrowed my fathers truck to pick everything up from Home Depot, and when I arrived back at my apartment with a truck load of plants, my downstairs neighbors shrieked with excitement. They brought out their gardening tools, put on their jean shorts, called some friends, and offered to help. Before I knew it, it was like a block party. We drank sangria while we worked in the dirt. We listened to Madonna, Blur and Radiohead.

Even the surrounding neighbors who barely said anything stopped and looked, maybe even giving a dry smirk. The finishing touch was a large pewter cracked mirror that we hung on the porch. The downstairs neighbor and myself found it, and carried home several blocks while we were on one of our walks. And when we were done the house looked like a glorious Southern mansion that perhaps had been owned by an elderly lady, who still cared for her plants, even though her house was well worn throughout the years. However, when the professor and her boyfriend came outside they gave off this weird space madness vibe. The professor looked at me,then looked at the mirror, and with her eyes cold, and mouth turned downward she said with a scratchy tone. " Yeah it looks like you stole my mirror idea." I looked at her, then I leaned over to look at the front of her house, and said " but, you don't have a mirror?" and she cut off my sentence and responded quickly in her same raspy scratchy tone with" Yeah honey uh, it's around back." Then she quickly she walked inside her house, and slammed the door. My downstairs neighbor and I stared at each other, I could see it in her eyes that she could feel the space madness.

Previously, I had been invited over to the Professor and her boyfriends house for a couple of parties, with their friends from France, and New York. I had even been invited over to play my bass with the Professors boyfriend, who played drums. The professor herself, had been absent while we were playing music, but later on eerily flowed down the stairs, and interrupted the grungy noise rock that we improvised. and I think she heard her boyfriend say things like, "ah this reminds me of my youth, New York in the 80's". She was silent, and I was uncomfortable.

Even though I had fun playing music with another person, and even though the professors boyfriend called to invite me over to play again, I never went. I began to indulge myself in the piano like I always had. The piano for me is the instrument that was made to sound like an entire orchestra, and it was what I was trained in.

Sometimes the Professors boyfriend would call me to tell me how much he enjoyed my music,because he could hear it outside. Of course when I started remember their phone number I ignored it. I think he knew that. I really wanted to distance myself from anything that felt too uncomfortable. The next door neighbors were becoming the source.

The Sun was setting, It was May 5th, Cinco De Mayo, my downstairs neighbor and I were enjoying the fruits of our labor, sitting on the front porch while the barricade of beautiful plant arrangements provided us with scenery, and shielded us from the direct view of the street. The neighbors from across the street who hardly said anything stopped by to tell us how impressed they were with how the house looked, and the work that we had done. They were actually moving, and asked if we might need some weed killer, because they had never used it. We said sure, and they brought it over. I placed it in the far corner of the porch, behind the chair that I was sitting in. And then The Professors boyfriend came over, he was eeiry he was leering, and more so that usual. He kept asking us what we were going to do that night, he took my glass, and poured himself the rest of our wine without asking. Then,he plopped himself down in my neighbors chair. There was so much silence, and it was so awkward it seemed as though he was marking his territory, yet his territory was next door, on his porch with his really nice looking chairs with cushions and such. I couldn't believe his brashness, my neighbor turned into a timid ball

 As the sun set, in the distance I could see the moon, and it was full that night.

To Be Continued....

To Lie. To Bully. To Judge.

My sister recently had an art show at one of our hometown coffee-shop/galleries. When we were thinking about venues I thought that the one we chose would be a safe one, considering the scandal that I was involved in seven years ago. The problem is that although I thought that the owner of the shop (who I sort of knew, having been invited to a party,at her house and having brief conversations with her from time to time while getting my coffee) was neutral to the scandal. She was not. She gave me all of her stoic glory, her magic dead eyes, and stern disposition, even after many years.

The scandal involved my ex best friend, and myself being involved in a fray that was initiated by her. It's something that I never got over, because fighting was something that was so foreign to me. But it happened all because she wouldn't let me go.

Our friendship was over, she was in a relationship, I found other friends, and we just didn't hang out anymore. And it really wasn't the fact that she was in a relationship that skewed our bond. It was that she started to treat me differently, like in a super negative uncomfortable way, and she did it a lot around other people especially.

The last straw I think, was when she yelled at me over the phone for having a disagreement with her about Radioheads documentary "Meeting People is easy" I rented it because I am a Radiohead fanatic, she on the other hand could have cared less about Radiohead because I think that she considered them "Too mainstream". The argument ensued because of our two opposing views. There is a point in the film were Thom Yorke says that he could care less about stardom and the perks of being famous. And he also said that he could care less that Tom Cruise made a special trip to see one of there shows. My point of contention was that throughout the entire documentary, Thom seemed kind of like, a parody of a really self important famous person. Also, if he didn't care about Tom Cruise then why did he allow Tom Cruise to use two of Radioheads songs in " Vanilla Sky" a movie that Tom Cruise both starred in and produced. At first it seemed like we were having a normal conversation because she perked up at the thought of Thom Yorke being anti- superstar. She was like "Fuck Tom Cruise" But when I tried to bring of my points of contention, she shrieked through to the phone.
 "Let Me Make My Point!" I remember looking at the phone and holding my breath. I was so stunned that she was so bothered, that I meekly responded with an "Ok." When we hung up I decided that it was over. There was nothing else that I could take.

For many weeks I avoided her, like seriously, ducking, running. Until I realized that I needed a dress that I lent her back. Usually I wouldn't have cared about clothing. but, this dress was particularly expensive, and it was pretty fabulous. I sent her a text asking about it, and she replied asking for her book that she lent me.

Instead of meeting at a coffee shop, like I wanted, she suggested that we meet at her house, I didn't want to. She said that she could come by my house, and I told her that I would be unavailable, So she said that she would leave it with my neighbors. Unfortunately, she called me, and said that I was scared to meet her. I guess she was aware that I was avoiding her. I told her to drop off the goods. I stayed put where I was for an hour. But, I wound up, catching her when she appeared with the crumbled Kroger bag containing my dress. She asked me to step outside, so that she could talk to me, the neighbors left us alone, I remember she looked at the door when it closed. We both did. We said horrible things to each other. But it was when I  told her that she should win an Oscar for best actress that she lost it, and pulled my hair, she completely snatched me backward, and I just hung there, for what seemed like an hour. It was like my life flashed before my eyes or something. But instead I was seeing our friendship. From the laughter, to the serious conversations, to the comfort, and apple pie. All in a flash, all was lost.

I remember that I wanted her to be off of me, I wanted it to be over, and I remember that I couldn't feel, anything. When the neighbors broke it up, I was ushered in, and told that she was bleeding, I however remained. untouched, except for the crochet hat I was wearing, it was a goner. I was told that she was filing a police report, so I filed on also. I was later told that she needed plastic surgery because I ripped her earring out, leaving her with a split ear. She also told everybody several blatant lies, that I jumped out of the bushes and beat her up. That I went crazy, and beat her up. That I attacked her. She also was getting a kick out of being the center of attention, and telling people that I was going to Jail. I was told that she was making jokes about it frequently.


I couldn't believe it, but, that happened.She even took it to trial, issuing a warrant for my arrest for first degree assault, in which a sheriff actually served me. I was booked, and fingerprinted. Which she bragged about to various people in our social circle. People began to shun me, approach me make comments about how I was going to jail, sneer at me talk about me in low voices when I entered an establishment. Laugh at me when I walked by. I even acquired a nickname, which is just to horrible for me to write about (it was racist)  And I didn't do any of the things that she accused me of. All I did was defend myself, and I didn't even know what I was doing, when I was doing that.

When we went to court, She lost, because both my lawyer, and the judge asked her questions that she cracked under. I guess, It was hard for her to get asked logical questions,under the guise of a big lie.
I don't know how she explained her loss to everyone, because I sank into a deep depression, I wanted to end it (I wanted to die). I stopped talking to everyone. I couldn't tell who was on my side or not. I don't know if that was the right thing to do. I don't know if my silence helped me. I guess it didn't from the way the owner of the coffee shop acted.

My life completely changed after that, I know that to this day, I still have flashes of the way she looked when she snatched my head backward, how I hung there suspended, and how I nearly let the lies, and false judgments of other people ruin my life force.

Sometimes people lie, and sometimes there is no instant justice. Maybe one day people will know what really happened. There is of course more to this story, because when is anything cut and dry and short and simple.

The Rules for going out in public

The Big "R" That stands for Rejection

                                                              It's raining today

The Forest of Rain

I started thinking about disappointment, and rejection. There are things that you have to be prepared for. And when they happen, it is literally how you choose to look at it that makes the difference.

My left Hand

On a whim last week, I decided to apply for a job at this clothing store, as a stylist. I figured that it would be a nice change to my daily habits, a good way to meet people, and a good way to be around my favorite environment, clothing. I was like, yeah, I've got this, I've got style, I have experience (I was store manager at a vintage clothing store for two years) I have a good attitude, I'm literally in love with the clothing brand itself, and I'm intelligent. Cool. Right? No.

The Closet of Destiny

I walk in there, and immediately I'm stricken with a whoosh of overwhelming snootiness. But I shook it off because, I thought maybe it was my own perception that might have been veiling reality. I felt like I was being watched, as I approached the back counter to inquire about the manager that I was to interview with. While walking, there was a girl who drifted pass me slowly and echoed a sallow "Hi". Behind the register counter there was a girl picking up boxes, she had to be the manager, I approached her, and she asked if I was here for the interviews. I felt slightly better.

 She asked me to pick out an outfit that would best represent the brands style. When she said this, I was totally excited because this was my element. I perused the store, and picked out a strapless blue printed romper, with a rose gold & silver arm band, a gold choker necklace, a pair of gold trimmed aviator sunglasses, and some strappy wedged boots. The reason I picked out the boots was only because they were lacking in a substantial selection of footwear. I was at a loss on that, but there was no way that I was going to pair that cute outfit with a pair of Birkenstocks. I explained my outfit to her, then she asked me to step outside.

Now here is where it gets slightly silly. She began to ask me questions whose answers had to be fashioned out of the regurgitated nature, so I decided to answer them in my own way, to offer a fresh approach, a new perspective, which is what I would think that a company would look for. It was hot that day, I was melting, and while I was answering the questions, I actually caught my interviewer, looking off into the distance. She also asked me what hours I was looking for, I said 20, she was like, "Yeah, it's actually going to be more like 8 to 12". That really didn't bother me until she said that it was a temporary position, because many of the other girls were off for vacation. That little tid-bit was not on the description of the job.

 I was ushered back inside, and she told me that the store manager and the visual manager wanted to also ask me questions. I walked back into the tapestry curtained, slightly closed, dressing room with two large cushioned benches situated across from one another. Large mirrors behind them on opposing walls. Both of the managers were there sitting next to each other, and one of them had been the girl who gave me the dead look and the long slow " Hi". They stared at me with faces as stone cold as a painting from the Baroque and Rococo period. I do believe in professionalism, but, I just don't think that these people seemed very nice, or happy, or bright, or alive. They were giving off the exact opposite of what the brand that they represented is.

I sat through their questions answering each one with what I thought were really good answers, and then they asked me about Loss Prevention (theft) but, it was in a way that I didn't particularly like. After that, the little dressing room was silent, and it was I who ended the interview with a " well, this was nice."after soaking in their blank and vacant stares .

This is what their expressions looked like

The funny thing is that I left that interview feeling fearless, I didn't sweat, I wasn't intimidated by their looks or their disposition. Because how they were acting, said more about them, than me. They were rejecting me to my face, and I still was unshaken. To be fair to myself, honestly I wouldn't have wanted to put myself in an environment where I would have to look at icy cold faces all day. So in that respect rejection can be a good thing, depending on how you choose to look at it. I give myself a pass.

Pass