Friday, September 18, 2009

Um. Yeah.

I'm trying to balance life, work, facebook, tweeting, my gym sessions, sleep...more sleep, and this blog. I've been doing a terrible job on the blog part. Yeah, I know. I'll figure something out, but in the meantime you'll just have to bear with me.

Yesterday, I had a nightmare and woke up screaming. Hadn't had one of those in a while. I've got a business trip to NYC coming up and have a feeling that's what it was about. It was a horrible dream, that I'd left my apartment for a long time and forgotten to arrange to feed the cats. Upon finding Atticus lifeless, I screamed in anguish. I heard the tail end of the scream when my eyes opened. Still in shock and not quite back in reality, it took about ten seconds to realize it was just a dream, and that a very alive Atticus was beside me, looking at me in that annoyed way that cats have perfected to an exact science. I'd apparently woken him up as well. I know the dream represented me fearing that I was forgetting something and the repercussions of that. It's been a long time since I've traveled for business, and I'm nervous about it. Even though, the trip is for an event we're having at a nightclub with a band that I love performing there. The cool factor is wholly up there, but it's the first of them for our group and therefore the jitters are abound. I think everything will go awesomely, and I'm sure once I'm checked into the hotel I'll be fine and ready to roll. I also have an awesome fantastic boss with a great sense of humor.

We've had some weirdness at the apartment building. One of the tenants has a drinking problem and has several times disrupted the building with his loud drunken and stoned antics, one of which includes jumping off the second floor or roof into the pool. It's incredibly unsafe even when you're sober. There is no room for error and the pool has a pretty shallow deep end. So much that there's no diving board. Anyway, a week or so after Labor Day, we all got a stern letter from the landlord saying that we'd be evicted if we jumped off anything but the side of the pool. I'm guessing this is because of that Labor Day, when the person in question who had been warned before about it, did it again. When I left that day, he was blitzed beyond belief and was once again being the court jester for some of the tenants. I left, not wanting to be subjected to it. Way too loud, and to be honest, depressing as hell to see a man in his 40's acting that way.

A little history, ever since I've lived here, everyone in the building has been extremely accommodating to his inconsiderate, loud and disruptive antics. Though he's responsible for himself and his behavior, I think our tolerance has actually been harmful to him. It's allowed him not to get better. He doesn't remember half the things he does when he's ultra blitzed and isn't aware that people are laughing at him and not with him. Or, laughing uncomfortably because they have no idea what else to do. One time, on a weekday when I was working at home, he and his friend demolished a wooden chair inside his apartment and threw the pieces into the pool and onto the pool area. Both of them were so drunk, they almost fell over the railing as they hurled the pieces down and each fell on their backs outside his apartment. It was just another of their drunken days of stupor together. I was working, watching two grown men act like fools in front of his open door where bad rock music blasted from his apartment. Not cool. At. All. I had one of those, "What if this is as good as it gets?" moments. And, there are countless more stories just like that one. He has a lot of work to do on himself and a long journey to undertake once he mans up enough to face himself in the mirror. However, he has to be the one that decides to embark on it.

I was watching the season premiere of America's Next Top Model, well, because it was on. And, I was glad that I caught it, because I saw my hair stylist on it! I was fun to see him standing there. They were there for the makeover session, getting new haircuts and makeup. Which reminds me of a couple months ago when I'd just gotten my hair cut and highlighted, and spent not a small amount of money on it. I had just returned from the salon and was sitting outside when the above mentioned neighbor stumbled out of his apartment stoned and drunk and poured water on my head. Luckily, I'm fast and he only got me a little, but I was pissed and yelled at him that I'd just gotten my hair done. Who the fuck DOES that?


I haven't posted about the sad event that I spoke of a couple posts ago. I will. But, it's hard to sit and write about it. It's responsible for part of my lag on the blog, where I just haven't felt like writing about anything.

On a happier note, I got to hear a free David Matthews concert thanks to the Ellen Show, which films right across from my apartment. Mid morning, I heard loud music and thought it was someone playing their car radio super loud. Finally tired of it, I left my apartment and walked to the street, ready to yell at them and ask them if their mommy hadn't given them enough attention when they were younger. I got outside... no car, but still the music. I realized something was going on at the studios and went back inside. A couple hours later, I heard much better music and a cheering crowd, and ventured out again. It was then that I saw the waving arms of people in stands just over the Warner Bros. barrier. And, recognized the music. Earlier had just been the sound check. I walked to get a better view where several people were standing and listening, climbed the Bank of America gate for a better view and watched them play. People were watching from open windows in several of the surrounding Warner buildings. The band was facing out toward the street, so the sound was just awesome. Totally surreal and cool. That night, I learned my next door neighbor, the one who had been my partner in crime in this little adventure, had gone to the show with her friend and been there in the crowd. She got in the second row and said it was awesome. You can watch them perform songs from that concert here and performing "Crash" here.

And no, I didn't ask the Dave Matthew's Band if their mommy didn't give them enough attention when they were younger. I stood outside under the palm trees, my legs wrapped around a metal bar for balance and listened to their music on a gorgeous day, glad I'd moved to Los Angeles because of the possibility of experiencing moments just like this.