100th post! Woo! [Excitment fades back into anxiety.]
Things go from bad, to badder, to worse. Ready for a sob story? I can deliver them like no other.
As I sit in my apartment at 1:22am, anxiety ridden and clutching a hammer, I know that sleep will not come tonight. My shuttle for my new flight comes at 6:00am and I was hoping to catch a little sleep before then. I now believe that is impossible. But let me start from the beginning.
Saturday: Leaving Hopper at the vet was horribly sad and frustrating. On top of being overwhelmed with sadness of leaving her, the vet kept adding on a bunch of charges that made me lose a little bit of my mind. For the sake of my sanity, I won't rehash the details, but the jist is, I will never go back there, other than on Friday to retrieve my pup. Like Mario saving the Princess from the castle. My poor baby!
Not wanting to stay at my apartment by myself, and wanting to make it easier for my airport ride, I stayed at a friends house. I made the mistake of deciding to stay up all night. We watched movies and had a nice time. I was able to keep my mind from my sad little pup for a little while which was nice. I ended up deciding to take a power nap at 5:00, to wake up at 5;30. That all went well.
Sunday: We go to the airport and I'm surprised at how fast I get all checked in and everything. I go to my terminal, buy a bottle of water and a magazine, and put on my iPod. I hear some announcements and take off my headphones. Yes, you guessed it, my flight was delayed. 15 minutes, they said, so I put my headphones back on knowing I'd have plenty of time to make my connecting flight. Another announcement, I remove my headphones. And then they announce the worst thing ever. Flight cancelled. Not delayed. Not rerouted. Cancelled. The details get boring so I'll give you the rundown. I wait in line for close to 3 hours. It seems to be taking about 30 minutes per person. I'm in the back of the line, because they were doing it by connecting city. Since I had one of the longer layovers, Charlotte was close to last. By this point, I was exhausted. Throughout the crowd, there are various rumblings of there being no flights available until after Christmas. Mentally I prepare myself for a Christmas in LA.
Finally, finally, finally I get to the ticket counter at our terminal. The woman seems as exhausted as I, but is very nice. She finds a flight for me, for tomorrow. Ehhh. So off to home I go, still without sleep and ready to eat a house. They comp me a shuttle from the airport. The ride takes a while, but I talk to a nice guy from Switzerland who is travelling around the states for the first time. We talk about Switzerland and his impression of America so far. It was really cool to hear about his journey.
Anyway, I get home and order pizza and pass out on the couch. Completely exhausted, I sleep for four hours, waking up at 7 wide awake. I decide to continue my night on the couch, hoping to sleep more before my shuttle that is to arrive at 6. Well, the one night I'm at my apartment alone and without my dog, my doorbell rings at 12:30. Confused and a little scared, I quietly make my way to my door. I look in the peep hole and there's no one there. I get a little nervous, but keep looking. Then, after a solid minute, a man, possibly homeless, peeks his head into my view. He's looking into my peep hole, which as we all know is impossible, but it's still creepy. He then rings my bell again and disappears. I'm shaking at this point, completely freaking out. But it's silent, and I don't see him anymore. So I grab a hammer and my phone and root myself in front of the peep hole. Nothing. I hear a few sounds that could possibly be in my hall, but it's also kinda windy out so I can't be sure. I think back to other times in which I've called the police, and given their response times then, I thought I would just call the non-emergency number and ask for someone to come by. That way, at least I'd know someone was on their way. Still heard nothing, but let me tell you, sleep was the last thing on my mind at this point. Unfortunately. I keep a watch on the street and peep through the hole every now and then.
Finally, I see a police car drive up, shine its light on my building, but before I have time to be embarrassed, they pull off, obviously convinced everything was fine. That's the last I've heard of them. I heard my neighbor go outside, and went outside and talked to him. I told him what had happened, and he made me feel better, saying I'd be fine, and to just not answer my door. I told him that if he heard me hitting someone with a hammer, that it might be me attacking a homeless man and to call the police. Yeah, so anyway, at least they're home. Now it's 2:13 am and I'm still a little too scared to sleep. The one, ONE, night I'm without my dog, this happens.
Okay, tired. Might attempt to let one eye sleep. Life in the city is never boring, that's for sure.
Showing posts with label trouble. Show all posts
Showing posts with label trouble. Show all posts
Monday, December 24, 2007
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
No Words...
Where do I begin? Sheesh. What a few weeks this has been. No kidding. You ready for an epic tale? Sit back, grab a drink, and get to reading. I'll begin two weeks back.
An amazing thing happened. I got a temporary job that lasted exactly to the day of when my perm job was supposed to start back up. And I not only got the job, I nailed the interview. They showed me the stacks of resumes and did the whole bit of flattering me by saying they liked my resume the best and I was the first they called, etc etc. Then made a whole show of tossing the rest of them into the trash. Okay, so it was probably the best interview I've ever had. The show was something definitely cool and different. I heckled a bit a got a wee bit over my usual rate and everyone seemed nice and welcoming. So I was pretty excited.
The day I found out I got the job, I also found out that I got to edit a music video for an actual record label and an actual band and it could actually go on tv! (Maybe, possibly, maybe). Flying high here, right?
Okay, then things started going terribly wrong. I soon discovered that my once top-of-the-line editing system had plummeted so far below the line that it couldn't even handle aforementioned music video. Not only that, the new job was not quite as great as I had imagined. It was hard going back to working days when I had grown so accustomed to nights. Having people breathing down my neck and not being able to get online and waste time was definitely a downer.
So one problem at a time, I knew I wanted to do the music video. I had just wrapped up the short that I've worked on literally all summer and was excited to go to something different. The song is catchy and poppy and fun, with a hint of darkness, and altogether perfect for me. The director is someone I've wanted to work with for a while, and well, music videos have always had a special place in my heart.
At this point in my life, I was broke. Broke broke broke! I quickly learned that in order for me to update my system so that it could handle the project, I wouldn't even be able to update my exsiting software, (since it is an Academic version, [which at the time sounded like such a good deal]). I'd have to buy the super expensive bundle of applications I'd rarely use, one of which, enabled me to do the video.
Thirteen hundred dollars in debt later, I'm sitting at my computer, all excited and ready to install my new software when I discover that I need to update my OS X to even be able to INSTALL FCP 6. What?!? That would have been nice to know at the store where I had bought the software as they were closing and locking the doors behind me for the night.
I should have taken this as a sign that the universe did not want me to do this project. But I couldn't stop there. This was an unreturnable purchase and I was going to use it damnit.
The next morning I awoke nice and early and was at the store as they opened the doors. I went in, bought my OS X gazillion, (after the fated conversation with the nice salesman, "Do you really need it now?" "Yes. Why?" "The new version is coming out next week. You should wait until then." Of course. "I can't!"), and left the store feeling even smaller than I felt when I entered.
I got home and spent the entire day installing software, including yet another upgrade I had to download as the smoke flew from my ears, and then, finally, FINALLY, importing the footage. Somehow, someway, I still got the first cut done that night, right on schedule. I was doing my best to overcome these obstacles and desperately wanted to leave a good taste in the mouth of the director. The next day, of course, (this is getting ridiculous, no?), after all of that hard work, I discovered that one little tiny box had not been checked when I imported the footage, (not to get into too many boring specifics, but it's an HD project and this was the first time I was dealing with actual HD in my timelime), so I had to reimport. Reimporting caused all my current files to reconnect almost an entire second off, meaning I was basically having to recut the entire thing. In one night to even attempt to stay on schedule.
Can I just say for the record this was one of the most fun things I've ever had the privelege of cutting. Even so, I would have preferred to do it once, especially with the tight schedule we were on, but I digress. I stayed up late, starting off my week on four hours of sleep. I finished, yay, but the lack of sleep hurt me.
Monday-I went to work, realized I had made a couple of mistakes, tried to correct them, cursed the assistant before me and the vague notes she left me, stared at the clock, waited for it to hit six thirty, drove home, walked my dog, and the director came over and we worked for the rest of the night on the cut.
Tuesday-I went to work, realized I had made a couple of mistakes, tried to correct them, cursed the assistant before me and the vague notes she left me, stared at the clock, waited for it to hit six thirty, drove home, walked my dog, and the director came over and we worked for the rest of the night on the cut.
Wednesday-I went to work completely exhausted, realized I had made a couple of mistakes, tried to correct them, cursed the assistant before me and the vague notes she left me, stared at the clock, waited for it to hit six thirty, drove home, walked my dog, and the director came over and we worked for the rest of the night on the cut.
Thursday-I went to work even more exhausted, realized I had made a couple of HUGE mistakes, like sending a bad DVD to the Network, (eck!), cursed the assistant before me and the vague notes she left me, cursed my boss for not letting me check said DVDs before he burned and sent them, stared at the clock, waited for it to hit six thirty, drove home, walked my dog, and the director came over and we worked for the rest of the night on the cut.
Friday-I went to work unbelievably exhausted, didn't make any mistakes, stared at the clock, waited for it to hit six thirty, got in my car and started to drive home. I was trying to make my way as fast as possible through the rain, (yes, rain in LA), and traffic, so I'd have enough time to walk my dog before the director came over. I got a call. EPIC! I warned you! (I actually had to stop and remember that other stuff because it is so pale in comparison to my next catastrophe. I was like "Wait, didn't something else suck like four days ago?")
My house, a duplex, had gotten struck hard by the rainstorm. The shotty old wire coming off of my bedroom and onto the pole had ripped from our house, still barely hanging on, but doing so in a vicarious manner. My roommate, who was home when it happened, had seen the sparks from the event, and ran outside. A small fire had started under our house. She grabbed the dogs and called the fire department. By the time they had gotten there, the fire was out and a large portion of cable/internet wires was a mess a black goo. Needless to say our cable/internet still hasn't been fixed!
They put up some tape and told us we needed the electic company to come out as soon as possible. It was around this time that I was finally getting home. The electricity was understandibly out, (just our house), and when I touched the back railing by the stairs, I got shocked. A loud, unbearable hum was coming from my wall, and our fire alarms were beeping mercilessly, as they run solely on electic energy and not batteries. The fire department had left and there was no fire at this time, so I tried my best to feel safe. My roommate went to a movie and I was stuck at home alone to sit and hope that, despite my gut telling me otherwise, everything was okay.
I kept getting wiffs of an odd odor that I pinpointed as a vitaminy smell. The fact that the fire alarms weren't working troubled me, but I tried to stay calm. Finally, sensing the smell was getting stronger, I broke down and called 911. I asked the fire department just to come back and investigate the smell. A little over two minutes later, four trucks came roaring into my neighborhood. My cheeks flushed, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong.
They could not smell anything and when I told them that the railing had shocked me, they looked at me like I was crazy. The dogs had both yelped in the front yard, as if they were getting shocked too. They didn't believe that it was anything to be worried about. They left, as there was no fire.
The electric company was slammed and no one came that night. I also had to understandibly cancel the editing session for the evening. I couldn't even sleep in my room as the hum was not only annoying, but troubling. It sounded like a ball of electricity trapped in the wall. I slept of the couch. A fitful nights sleep at best. After a week of short sleep nights, my nerves were rattled and body, exhausted.
I awoke the next morning and me and my roommate both called the electric company begging for someone to come out. One house without power didn't seem to be a big priority. We explained it was an emergency, but there was only so much customer service could do.
Finally, after an unsettling morning, a lone man from the electric company came to investigate. He looked shocked and basically said, "We're gonna need a bigger boat."
Duh. This is what we'd been saying. He was nice enough to call the dispatcher directly, hopefully expressing the severity of the situation. He was also nice enough to explain that somehow electricity had infiltrated our entire yard, or anything metal touching the house. And no, I was not crazy for thinking I got shocked. I actually did and thank goodness it wasn't enough to do any damage.
But he couldn't turn the electricity off. Basically that had to be done at the pole or something. For some reason, he couldn't do much. So again, I waited. Waited, sniffing the air anxiously. Roommate had gone to breakfast and I had stayed home, not wanting to leave the dogs alone. I was so nervous, just waiting for the house to catch fire, I actually packed up some things in my car. I just knew. I can't explain it, but I knew. I was putting my head between my knees taking deep breaths and trying to calm myself down. I felt helpless. Like I was just waiting for it to catch fire. Like it wasn't a question of "if", it was "when". I literally was having an internal debate on whether or not I was overreacting when I smelled the vitaminy smell again. I didn't want to false alarm the FD again, so I waited. It got stronger, much stronger, and finally I broke down and called my roommate begging her to come home. When she got there she laughed at the fact that I had packed up my car, but as the rain started falling again, the smell got even stronger.
So I got on the phone with the power company and told them we needed someone now. Now. Then, my worst nightmare happened. My roommate saw smoke. I took the dogs outside and put them in my car, yelling to the power company that my house was on fire, it was too late now, and I had to go. I hung up, feeling utterly helpless and like no one seemed to give a damn that we've had this huge risk around us and no one could seem to do anything but wait. Wait for this, I guessed. Wait for the house to go up in flames. That's what it took it seemed. My roommate ran down a few seconds later, having already called the fire department, and said she saw flames. In my head, it was gone. The house was gone. When the fire trucks pulled up, I met them at the street and told them where the kitchen was. Immediately when they ran in, I started crying. I know. I'm such a girl. But it had been an emotional day and I'm terrified of fires and I really thought the house was long gone. And just to push the sympathy points a little higher, it was pouring down rain and I was completely soaked. And neighbors were coming up to me offering me umbrellas and water and to go inside their house and sit, but I couldn't move from the driveway, alternating from watching the house in horror, and not being able to watch at all, fearing I'd see flames from the roof. I knew I wouldn't be able to handle that.
I'll add in here that we couldn't reach our landlord because of the Jewish holiday and he had left no emergency number.
I got dragged away from the house by a friend who took me down the block to her house and supplied me with dry clothes and made me calm down-which was probably a good thing. I think the firefighters were laughing at me. When I returned, it was business as fire usual. They had decided they had no other choice but to cut down the power line completely. They were inspecting all the walls with a camera thing to make sure nothing else was on fire.
A fireman, the chief I do believe, approached me and asked if I was the one that called last night about the "vitaminy" smell. I confirmed that was me, and he, in turn, confirmed, in his best apologetic tone, that I wasn't crazy. What I had been smelling was the old insulation smoldering in the walls. HA! (Although I'm not sure how much I appreciate being right on that one.) I knew I wasn't crazy. I'm pretty sure they felt bad about the jokes they made after they left. So yes, technically there was a fire in our walls for nearly twelve hours. This house we SLEPT in.
Anyway, that is how I spent last weekend. Hardly any damage was done, although the firemen did chop up one of our walls! The house has since been rewired, although not very well. Needless to say, we're not really feeling too safe here anymore, and are looking for a place elsewhere. Because of our dog situation, (them not getting along too well), we're going our seperate ways.
And now, I'm going to try and finish a project I've been working on and was almost done with before this big mess! Goodnight!
An amazing thing happened. I got a temporary job that lasted exactly to the day of when my perm job was supposed to start back up. And I not only got the job, I nailed the interview. They showed me the stacks of resumes and did the whole bit of flattering me by saying they liked my resume the best and I was the first they called, etc etc. Then made a whole show of tossing the rest of them into the trash. Okay, so it was probably the best interview I've ever had. The show was something definitely cool and different. I heckled a bit a got a wee bit over my usual rate and everyone seemed nice and welcoming. So I was pretty excited.
The day I found out I got the job, I also found out that I got to edit a music video for an actual record label and an actual band and it could actually go on tv! (Maybe, possibly, maybe). Flying high here, right?
Okay, then things started going terribly wrong. I soon discovered that my once top-of-the-line editing system had plummeted so far below the line that it couldn't even handle aforementioned music video. Not only that, the new job was not quite as great as I had imagined. It was hard going back to working days when I had grown so accustomed to nights. Having people breathing down my neck and not being able to get online and waste time was definitely a downer.
So one problem at a time, I knew I wanted to do the music video. I had just wrapped up the short that I've worked on literally all summer and was excited to go to something different. The song is catchy and poppy and fun, with a hint of darkness, and altogether perfect for me. The director is someone I've wanted to work with for a while, and well, music videos have always had a special place in my heart.
At this point in my life, I was broke. Broke broke broke! I quickly learned that in order for me to update my system so that it could handle the project, I wouldn't even be able to update my exsiting software, (since it is an Academic version, [which at the time sounded like such a good deal]). I'd have to buy the super expensive bundle of applications I'd rarely use, one of which, enabled me to do the video.
Thirteen hundred dollars in debt later, I'm sitting at my computer, all excited and ready to install my new software when I discover that I need to update my OS X to even be able to INSTALL FCP 6. What?!? That would have been nice to know at the store where I had bought the software as they were closing and locking the doors behind me for the night.
I should have taken this as a sign that the universe did not want me to do this project. But I couldn't stop there. This was an unreturnable purchase and I was going to use it damnit.
The next morning I awoke nice and early and was at the store as they opened the doors. I went in, bought my OS X gazillion, (after the fated conversation with the nice salesman, "Do you really need it now?" "Yes. Why?" "The new version is coming out next week. You should wait until then." Of course. "I can't!"), and left the store feeling even smaller than I felt when I entered.
I got home and spent the entire day installing software, including yet another upgrade I had to download as the smoke flew from my ears, and then, finally, FINALLY, importing the footage. Somehow, someway, I still got the first cut done that night, right on schedule. I was doing my best to overcome these obstacles and desperately wanted to leave a good taste in the mouth of the director. The next day, of course, (this is getting ridiculous, no?), after all of that hard work, I discovered that one little tiny box had not been checked when I imported the footage, (not to get into too many boring specifics, but it's an HD project and this was the first time I was dealing with actual HD in my timelime), so I had to reimport. Reimporting caused all my current files to reconnect almost an entire second off, meaning I was basically having to recut the entire thing. In one night to even attempt to stay on schedule.
Can I just say for the record this was one of the most fun things I've ever had the privelege of cutting. Even so, I would have preferred to do it once, especially with the tight schedule we were on, but I digress. I stayed up late, starting off my week on four hours of sleep. I finished, yay, but the lack of sleep hurt me.
Monday-I went to work, realized I had made a couple of mistakes, tried to correct them, cursed the assistant before me and the vague notes she left me, stared at the clock, waited for it to hit six thirty, drove home, walked my dog, and the director came over and we worked for the rest of the night on the cut.
Tuesday-I went to work, realized I had made a couple of mistakes, tried to correct them, cursed the assistant before me and the vague notes she left me, stared at the clock, waited for it to hit six thirty, drove home, walked my dog, and the director came over and we worked for the rest of the night on the cut.
Wednesday-I went to work completely exhausted, realized I had made a couple of mistakes, tried to correct them, cursed the assistant before me and the vague notes she left me, stared at the clock, waited for it to hit six thirty, drove home, walked my dog, and the director came over and we worked for the rest of the night on the cut.
Thursday-I went to work even more exhausted, realized I had made a couple of HUGE mistakes, like sending a bad DVD to the Network, (eck!), cursed the assistant before me and the vague notes she left me, cursed my boss for not letting me check said DVDs before he burned and sent them, stared at the clock, waited for it to hit six thirty, drove home, walked my dog, and the director came over and we worked for the rest of the night on the cut.
Friday-I went to work unbelievably exhausted, didn't make any mistakes, stared at the clock, waited for it to hit six thirty, got in my car and started to drive home. I was trying to make my way as fast as possible through the rain, (yes, rain in LA), and traffic, so I'd have enough time to walk my dog before the director came over. I got a call. EPIC! I warned you! (I actually had to stop and remember that other stuff because it is so pale in comparison to my next catastrophe. I was like "Wait, didn't something else suck like four days ago?")
My house, a duplex, had gotten struck hard by the rainstorm. The shotty old wire coming off of my bedroom and onto the pole had ripped from our house, still barely hanging on, but doing so in a vicarious manner. My roommate, who was home when it happened, had seen the sparks from the event, and ran outside. A small fire had started under our house. She grabbed the dogs and called the fire department. By the time they had gotten there, the fire was out and a large portion of cable/internet wires was a mess a black goo. Needless to say our cable/internet still hasn't been fixed!
They put up some tape and told us we needed the electic company to come out as soon as possible. It was around this time that I was finally getting home. The electricity was understandibly out, (just our house), and when I touched the back railing by the stairs, I got shocked. A loud, unbearable hum was coming from my wall, and our fire alarms were beeping mercilessly, as they run solely on electic energy and not batteries. The fire department had left and there was no fire at this time, so I tried my best to feel safe. My roommate went to a movie and I was stuck at home alone to sit and hope that, despite my gut telling me otherwise, everything was okay.
I kept getting wiffs of an odd odor that I pinpointed as a vitaminy smell. The fact that the fire alarms weren't working troubled me, but I tried to stay calm. Finally, sensing the smell was getting stronger, I broke down and called 911. I asked the fire department just to come back and investigate the smell. A little over two minutes later, four trucks came roaring into my neighborhood. My cheeks flushed, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong.
They could not smell anything and when I told them that the railing had shocked me, they looked at me like I was crazy. The dogs had both yelped in the front yard, as if they were getting shocked too. They didn't believe that it was anything to be worried about. They left, as there was no fire.
The electric company was slammed and no one came that night. I also had to understandibly cancel the editing session for the evening. I couldn't even sleep in my room as the hum was not only annoying, but troubling. It sounded like a ball of electricity trapped in the wall. I slept of the couch. A fitful nights sleep at best. After a week of short sleep nights, my nerves were rattled and body, exhausted.
I awoke the next morning and me and my roommate both called the electric company begging for someone to come out. One house without power didn't seem to be a big priority. We explained it was an emergency, but there was only so much customer service could do.
Finally, after an unsettling morning, a lone man from the electric company came to investigate. He looked shocked and basically said, "We're gonna need a bigger boat."
Duh. This is what we'd been saying. He was nice enough to call the dispatcher directly, hopefully expressing the severity of the situation. He was also nice enough to explain that somehow electricity had infiltrated our entire yard, or anything metal touching the house. And no, I was not crazy for thinking I got shocked. I actually did and thank goodness it wasn't enough to do any damage.
But he couldn't turn the electricity off. Basically that had to be done at the pole or something. For some reason, he couldn't do much. So again, I waited. Waited, sniffing the air anxiously. Roommate had gone to breakfast and I had stayed home, not wanting to leave the dogs alone. I was so nervous, just waiting for the house to catch fire, I actually packed up some things in my car. I just knew. I can't explain it, but I knew. I was putting my head between my knees taking deep breaths and trying to calm myself down. I felt helpless. Like I was just waiting for it to catch fire. Like it wasn't a question of "if", it was "when". I literally was having an internal debate on whether or not I was overreacting when I smelled the vitaminy smell again. I didn't want to false alarm the FD again, so I waited. It got stronger, much stronger, and finally I broke down and called my roommate begging her to come home. When she got there she laughed at the fact that I had packed up my car, but as the rain started falling again, the smell got even stronger.
So I got on the phone with the power company and told them we needed someone now. Now. Then, my worst nightmare happened. My roommate saw smoke. I took the dogs outside and put them in my car, yelling to the power company that my house was on fire, it was too late now, and I had to go. I hung up, feeling utterly helpless and like no one seemed to give a damn that we've had this huge risk around us and no one could seem to do anything but wait. Wait for this, I guessed. Wait for the house to go up in flames. That's what it took it seemed. My roommate ran down a few seconds later, having already called the fire department, and said she saw flames. In my head, it was gone. The house was gone. When the fire trucks pulled up, I met them at the street and told them where the kitchen was. Immediately when they ran in, I started crying. I know. I'm such a girl. But it had been an emotional day and I'm terrified of fires and I really thought the house was long gone. And just to push the sympathy points a little higher, it was pouring down rain and I was completely soaked. And neighbors were coming up to me offering me umbrellas and water and to go inside their house and sit, but I couldn't move from the driveway, alternating from watching the house in horror, and not being able to watch at all, fearing I'd see flames from the roof. I knew I wouldn't be able to handle that.
I'll add in here that we couldn't reach our landlord because of the Jewish holiday and he had left no emergency number.
I got dragged away from the house by a friend who took me down the block to her house and supplied me with dry clothes and made me calm down-which was probably a good thing. I think the firefighters were laughing at me. When I returned, it was business as fire usual. They had decided they had no other choice but to cut down the power line completely. They were inspecting all the walls with a camera thing to make sure nothing else was on fire.
A fireman, the chief I do believe, approached me and asked if I was the one that called last night about the "vitaminy" smell. I confirmed that was me, and he, in turn, confirmed, in his best apologetic tone, that I wasn't crazy. What I had been smelling was the old insulation smoldering in the walls. HA! (Although I'm not sure how much I appreciate being right on that one.) I knew I wasn't crazy. I'm pretty sure they felt bad about the jokes they made after they left. So yes, technically there was a fire in our walls for nearly twelve hours. This house we SLEPT in.
Anyway, that is how I spent last weekend. Hardly any damage was done, although the firemen did chop up one of our walls! The house has since been rewired, although not very well. Needless to say, we're not really feeling too safe here anymore, and are looking for a place elsewhere. Because of our dog situation, (them not getting along too well), we're going our seperate ways.
And now, I'm going to try and finish a project I've been working on and was almost done with before this big mess! Goodnight!
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
In My Own Backyard!
Perhaps feeling guilty from the last time I failed to act quickly enough, today I believe I was inducted into my neighborhoods "Community Watch" program.
So I'm going about my normal morning business, drinking coffee and scanning the internet. My wireless internet is down so I wasn't on the porch as much as usual. My front door was open and I was sitting on my couch hardwired into my modem. I hear a man on the street below yelling. I come to the porch and see a man looking helplessly around yelling "Thief! Thief!"
He yells to other neighbors that have come outside that he's looking for a black man. He starts walking up my driveway and I get nervous. I call for the dogs and walk towards the backdoor to ensure it's locked. (Thinking that the thief might be looking for a house to hide in.) As I turn the corner into the kitchen, I hold my hands up in some sort of karate pose that I never knew I knew. No one's there. Relief. It's locked and I turn my attention back towards the driveway, sticking my head out of the window just in time to see the man cornering a young black man, with poofy hair in my backyard! The guy looks scared as the worker who has been chasing him starts to move in, yelling "Thief!" and pointing in his direction. I watch it all and grab my phone to dial "911". The kid jumps the fence next to mine and gets away. The worker then runs into my front yard and grabs a broom of some sort, taking the brush part off, (left with just the handle), and jumps into a car. He means business.
At this point I'm trying to describe stuff to the 911 guy, but also trying to figure out where they are going. I've completely lost the suspect at this point, so I tell the 911 man where the worker headed.
I was shaking and nervous but gave all the info I had. The street turned silent as the chase moved elsewhere, but with doors locked and windows drawn, I sat nervously, with the dogs, hoping that Thief wouldn't come back and get revenge on nosey neighbors.
It's now almost 30 minutes later and no police to speak of. The guy chasing him has returned and checked our backyard looking for the purse that Thief seemed to no longer be carrying. He couldn't find it, which worries me that perhaps Thief stashed it and will be back for it later. No one has heard from the cops and I salute the LAPD for taking such action against this criminal. Good to know I guess.
The lady that lives below me, the landlords sister, came out and ensured me that this happens all the time and that they never come into the houses. She said, "he'll do it again and eventually get caught." Good to know lady! Way to ease my nerves! So apparently, this guy snatched a purse off of a woman in a market down the street. I assume that the worker saw and chased him here. Also apparently, this market is not one that I'm going to be frequenting.
Well that's it for now. I guess it's over. He got away. But not for lack of trying! This worker guy was like superman chasing this guy.
Nothing like a criminal chase to wake a person up in the morning.
UPDATE: It took about an hour, but the police finally came. They were milling about in the backyard with the worker from before. I was brushing my teeth and looked down and noticed a black bag on the roof of the garage. As I went out to tell the cops, they had just seen it as well. Turns out, it was a bookbag but the purse was still missing. They get all my info and I went on my way. Let's hope they found that purse! And hope even more that Thief doesn't come back looking for it.
So I'm going about my normal morning business, drinking coffee and scanning the internet. My wireless internet is down so I wasn't on the porch as much as usual. My front door was open and I was sitting on my couch hardwired into my modem. I hear a man on the street below yelling. I come to the porch and see a man looking helplessly around yelling "Thief! Thief!"
He yells to other neighbors that have come outside that he's looking for a black man. He starts walking up my driveway and I get nervous. I call for the dogs and walk towards the backdoor to ensure it's locked. (Thinking that the thief might be looking for a house to hide in.) As I turn the corner into the kitchen, I hold my hands up in some sort of karate pose that I never knew I knew. No one's there. Relief. It's locked and I turn my attention back towards the driveway, sticking my head out of the window just in time to see the man cornering a young black man, with poofy hair in my backyard! The guy looks scared as the worker who has been chasing him starts to move in, yelling "Thief!" and pointing in his direction. I watch it all and grab my phone to dial "911". The kid jumps the fence next to mine and gets away. The worker then runs into my front yard and grabs a broom of some sort, taking the brush part off, (left with just the handle), and jumps into a car. He means business.
At this point I'm trying to describe stuff to the 911 guy, but also trying to figure out where they are going. I've completely lost the suspect at this point, so I tell the 911 man where the worker headed.
I was shaking and nervous but gave all the info I had. The street turned silent as the chase moved elsewhere, but with doors locked and windows drawn, I sat nervously, with the dogs, hoping that Thief wouldn't come back and get revenge on nosey neighbors.
It's now almost 30 minutes later and no police to speak of. The guy chasing him has returned and checked our backyard looking for the purse that Thief seemed to no longer be carrying. He couldn't find it, which worries me that perhaps Thief stashed it and will be back for it later. No one has heard from the cops and I salute the LAPD for taking such action against this criminal. Good to know I guess.
The lady that lives below me, the landlords sister, came out and ensured me that this happens all the time and that they never come into the houses. She said, "he'll do it again and eventually get caught." Good to know lady! Way to ease my nerves! So apparently, this guy snatched a purse off of a woman in a market down the street. I assume that the worker saw and chased him here. Also apparently, this market is not one that I'm going to be frequenting.
Well that's it for now. I guess it's over. He got away. But not for lack of trying! This worker guy was like superman chasing this guy.
Nothing like a criminal chase to wake a person up in the morning.
UPDATE: It took about an hour, but the police finally came. They were milling about in the backyard with the worker from before. I was brushing my teeth and looked down and noticed a black bag on the roof of the garage. As I went out to tell the cops, they had just seen it as well. Turns out, it was a bookbag but the purse was still missing. They get all my info and I went on my way. Let's hope they found that purse! And hope even more that Thief doesn't come back looking for it.
Thursday, April 05, 2007
A Blood Curling Scream Perhaps?
What will you dream of tonight? A sunny day by the beach, or a kiss with a loved one? Maybe a beautiful spring day with imagery provided by a friend. If you're lucky, you may even dream about your Academy/Grammy/Nobel Peace Prize/Booker Prize award winning moment. Me? Well funny you should ask. I'm pretty sure my dreams are going to contain the blood-curling scream that just echoed throughout my neighborhood a few minutes ago. I'm writing this blog to rid myself of them, but as of yet, no such luck.
I'm standing in the yard with my dog, who's quite enjoying running away from me as I try to usher her inside. Now, I'd go as far to say that I f'in love having a backyard. Love it! And I love that there's only one way out that I have to guard so she doesn't go for the hills, quite literally. But, you see, I have to guard it. So when she's back there playing, I'm pretty immobilized. Because as fun as the her-not-coming-to-me-when-I-call-her thing we have going on must be for her, it's pretty dangerous when you start dealing with major roads that I live very close to. Oh, and she ain't afraid of no cars. Huh! (Must be sung with the fervor of Ghostbusters.)
Here I am, standing in my spot, letting her do her thing, which seems to be sniffing a spot for minutes upon minutes until I call for her, in which she runs the opposite direction, not skipping a beat, finding a new area to sniff until the process repeats. I keep convincing myself that she doesn't need a leash, but everytime, without fail, I get to the fifteen minute mark and my temper starts to flare a bit. Like shit or get off the grass for real dog. And trying to get her to go inside is impossible, so I'm forced to stand in my spot, or within a five foot radius of my spot, until she feels like moseying on back towards the house. I might have a higher blood pressure, but I'm trying to let her enjoy having a backyard for the first time in what seems to be forever. But she doesn't listen, and as much as I try to train her with treats and goodies, if there's no treat, she's not coming.
There I was, and all of the sudden I hear this horrific scream, a girl no less, screaming, "Help me! Oh god, pleasssseeeee, someone help me!" I'm not joking and I'm not laughing, and if it was some actor practicing their lines or some kids playing a joke, it was not funny because I'm still reeling from this.
So I hear this scream and in my head, I have two choices. I can stay put, try and usher the pup in (which would likely take hours) and then go call 911, or I could race up the stairs, leaving the one exit open and potentionally allowing my dog to escape to the chicken bone buffett she must think exists somewhere beyond our yard. What would you do? I mean this scream was the most heart-wrentching, desperate cry I've ever heard. Ya'll, I never say ya'll so this needs to have some impact here, it was horrific.
I couldn't tell where it was coming from, but it was at least two blocks away. I felt absolutely useless. A car scooted by, pretty fast but not abnormally so. I took a mental picture just in case, and in my head I saw a terrified girl sitting in the front passenger seat looking at me and silently asking with big, sad eyes, "Why aren't you doing anything?"
I'm haunted because I reasoned that surely someone closer had to of heard. Someone who knew where it was coming from and damn, i'm making excuses but I didn't do it. I remained rooted to the ground as I could feel the guilt build in my body and the weights on my shoulders.
I started fervently trying to get unresponsive pup inside, and finally did so after pretending to go up the stairs myself. But I didn't go right away and make the day-saving phone call. I feel like I let humanity down, but I was torn with what-ifs and could-I-really-make-a-difference-right-nows. Surely someone else heard. Isn't that what people always say, and that's why no one helps anyone anymore?
I'm just sick, sick to my stomach as it bounces around, that scream, that terrifying scream, just bounces around in my head. I heard some sirens a few minutes later, and plan on giving a car description tomorrow, but i just feel so bad and know that my immobility is going to cause me great stress.
Worst part? I'll never know. I'll never know what happened to that poor girl because this is Los Angeles, and bad stuff happens so much, that it rarely makes the news. The news here all seems to be a bust here and a new building there. Actor did this and fatal car accident there. You rarely hear about the stuff that must happen all the time here, like the shootings and the robberies. It's terrifying to think that it's so common, it doesn't even make the news anymore. And I think this because I've looked. After my shooting detours, I watched the news religiously to see what had happened, and nothing. Not even a blurb.
So there. There is what is going to haunt me tonight. Knowing that somewhere near me, something bad happened to someone and I couldn't do anything.
Moving on? Can I move on from that? Is that too heavy to follow with good news? It'll take my, and your, mind off of it, so here we go.
Tomorrow, big day. I'm eating lunch with a friend on the WB Lot and after lunch will have free reign to tour what I wish. And I wish to tour. So that's exciting. Also, I find out if I get the job I interviewed for! (Awesome!) Yes, I got an interview. For reality tv, but hey, it's a gig, and it pays well, and it's an editing job, not an assistant job, so really, what is there to complain about? It's actually perfect for me. And I want it, and I will keep you posted because wow, I find out tomorrow. Life changing people. LIfe changing.
(Speaking of life changing...) My blonde roots are growing in far faster than I ever thought possible. I'm going to need a touch up soon or I'm seriously going to be two-toned, which isn't all that cute.
My dog and I have a strange night ritual where she gets in bed first, when I lay down, if I as much as graze her with my foot or move her covers, she's off of the bed and huffs like I just woke her up as Tramp was feeding her a meatball or something. Then I take reign of the bed and make myself cozy, until that is, I remember I didn't set my alarm clock. Or my computer is dying and I have to plug it in. Or I left the light on. But I have to get up. Almost every night when I'm going to sleep, it's my strange and twisted habit. I always have to get up to do or get something. Dog then jumps up to exactly where my body was and curls up, refusing to move, stubborn and unmovable. It's times like these, where I try and contort my body as to not disturb her, when I wonder why I allow my dog to take over my bed every single night. I'm a guest in my own bed! Pshaw you guys. Pshaw. Then she cuddles me and gives me her little tired eye face, and my bottom lip sticks out as I gently pet her head.
Now seriously, eyes drooping and no aforementioned horrific-ness at the forefront, so I'm going to bed.
You guys be safe out there.
I'm standing in the yard with my dog, who's quite enjoying running away from me as I try to usher her inside. Now, I'd go as far to say that I f'in love having a backyard. Love it! And I love that there's only one way out that I have to guard so she doesn't go for the hills, quite literally. But, you see, I have to guard it. So when she's back there playing, I'm pretty immobilized. Because as fun as the her-not-coming-to-me-when-I-call-her thing we have going on must be for her, it's pretty dangerous when you start dealing with major roads that I live very close to. Oh, and she ain't afraid of no cars. Huh! (Must be sung with the fervor of Ghostbusters.)
Here I am, standing in my spot, letting her do her thing, which seems to be sniffing a spot for minutes upon minutes until I call for her, in which she runs the opposite direction, not skipping a beat, finding a new area to sniff until the process repeats. I keep convincing myself that she doesn't need a leash, but everytime, without fail, I get to the fifteen minute mark and my temper starts to flare a bit. Like shit or get off the grass for real dog. And trying to get her to go inside is impossible, so I'm forced to stand in my spot, or within a five foot radius of my spot, until she feels like moseying on back towards the house. I might have a higher blood pressure, but I'm trying to let her enjoy having a backyard for the first time in what seems to be forever. But she doesn't listen, and as much as I try to train her with treats and goodies, if there's no treat, she's not coming.
There I was, and all of the sudden I hear this horrific scream, a girl no less, screaming, "Help me! Oh god, pleasssseeeee, someone help me!" I'm not joking and I'm not laughing, and if it was some actor practicing their lines or some kids playing a joke, it was not funny because I'm still reeling from this.
So I hear this scream and in my head, I have two choices. I can stay put, try and usher the pup in (which would likely take hours) and then go call 911, or I could race up the stairs, leaving the one exit open and potentionally allowing my dog to escape to the chicken bone buffett she must think exists somewhere beyond our yard. What would you do? I mean this scream was the most heart-wrentching, desperate cry I've ever heard. Ya'll, I never say ya'll so this needs to have some impact here, it was horrific.
I couldn't tell where it was coming from, but it was at least two blocks away. I felt absolutely useless. A car scooted by, pretty fast but not abnormally so. I took a mental picture just in case, and in my head I saw a terrified girl sitting in the front passenger seat looking at me and silently asking with big, sad eyes, "Why aren't you doing anything?"
I'm haunted because I reasoned that surely someone closer had to of heard. Someone who knew where it was coming from and damn, i'm making excuses but I didn't do it. I remained rooted to the ground as I could feel the guilt build in my body and the weights on my shoulders.
I started fervently trying to get unresponsive pup inside, and finally did so after pretending to go up the stairs myself. But I didn't go right away and make the day-saving phone call. I feel like I let humanity down, but I was torn with what-ifs and could-I-really-make-a-difference-right-nows. Surely someone else heard. Isn't that what people always say, and that's why no one helps anyone anymore?
I'm just sick, sick to my stomach as it bounces around, that scream, that terrifying scream, just bounces around in my head. I heard some sirens a few minutes later, and plan on giving a car description tomorrow, but i just feel so bad and know that my immobility is going to cause me great stress.
Worst part? I'll never know. I'll never know what happened to that poor girl because this is Los Angeles, and bad stuff happens so much, that it rarely makes the news. The news here all seems to be a bust here and a new building there. Actor did this and fatal car accident there. You rarely hear about the stuff that must happen all the time here, like the shootings and the robberies. It's terrifying to think that it's so common, it doesn't even make the news anymore. And I think this because I've looked. After my shooting detours, I watched the news religiously to see what had happened, and nothing. Not even a blurb.
So there. There is what is going to haunt me tonight. Knowing that somewhere near me, something bad happened to someone and I couldn't do anything.
Moving on? Can I move on from that? Is that too heavy to follow with good news? It'll take my, and your, mind off of it, so here we go.
Tomorrow, big day. I'm eating lunch with a friend on the WB Lot and after lunch will have free reign to tour what I wish. And I wish to tour. So that's exciting. Also, I find out if I get the job I interviewed for! (Awesome!) Yes, I got an interview. For reality tv, but hey, it's a gig, and it pays well, and it's an editing job, not an assistant job, so really, what is there to complain about? It's actually perfect for me. And I want it, and I will keep you posted because wow, I find out tomorrow. Life changing people. LIfe changing.
(Speaking of life changing...) My blonde roots are growing in far faster than I ever thought possible. I'm going to need a touch up soon or I'm seriously going to be two-toned, which isn't all that cute.
My dog and I have a strange night ritual where she gets in bed first, when I lay down, if I as much as graze her with my foot or move her covers, she's off of the bed and huffs like I just woke her up as Tramp was feeding her a meatball or something. Then I take reign of the bed and make myself cozy, until that is, I remember I didn't set my alarm clock. Or my computer is dying and I have to plug it in. Or I left the light on. But I have to get up. Almost every night when I'm going to sleep, it's my strange and twisted habit. I always have to get up to do or get something. Dog then jumps up to exactly where my body was and curls up, refusing to move, stubborn and unmovable. It's times like these, where I try and contort my body as to not disturb her, when I wonder why I allow my dog to take over my bed every single night. I'm a guest in my own bed! Pshaw you guys. Pshaw. Then she cuddles me and gives me her little tired eye face, and my bottom lip sticks out as I gently pet her head.
Now seriously, eyes drooping and no aforementioned horrific-ness at the forefront, so I'm going to bed.
You guys be safe out there.
Monday, June 26, 2006
Busted!
I went what, a whole two days fearing for my homelessness? Yeah, I got an apartment. Or did I? I think I did, although I have yet to sign a lease. Well I'm 75% sure I got an apartment. I mean Time Warner is coming to said apartment next week to install cable and internet, (because god knows what I do without those two things!). Well we'll see I guess.
Onto more important matters. Who gets a civil disobedience ticket at 9 am in the morning? Me that's who. Now before you start to live vicariously through me, I warn that the story is pretty boring and does not involve nudity or violence in any way. It's 9 o'clock in the morning, I'm walking to the subway with my good friend Emily. We're laughing and chatting about nothing in particular. It's her first morning in her new place, my old place as of this Saturday. I'm happy to be walking to the subway with someone I know. Well last Friday, I spent my last ride on my MetroCard and spent the weekend lazily buying Single Ride tickets. Needless to say, part of my planned to be uneventful morning was purchasing a new card. As we walk in the station, I casually walk up to the machine, only to be greeting with a "No Signal" message on the screen. I've seen many out of service messages on this very machine, but never that one. Seems more suitable for a cell phone or wireless internet connection but whatever. Technology these days, sheesh.
So in order for me to buy a card I'd have to climb the stairs back to street level, walk an avenue block, descend the stairs and potentially be greeted by the very same message on the other machines. Emily had a better idea. "Squeeze in with me!" I mean, on paper, it was a good plan. No security cameras to speak of and a seemingly empty station, I went for it. It was much more appealing than the other option, and hell, I'm a good citizen and had only done this once before, which from what I hear, is pretty honorable for someone who rides the subway everyday. Of course, as we squeeze in, push through, and head for our train, a NYPD officer walks up the stairs towards us. He came from out no where. Maybe he didn't know. We played it cool.
"Can I see some ID from you two?" Shit. "Have either of you ever been arrested?" Double shit.
As much as I wanted to cry, (to try and ease the punishment a little bit), I couldn't do anything but laugh. Call me crazy, but what the hell. Hilarious. Arrested for not paying 2 dollars? The potential cell-block conversations filled my head and I nearly doubled over in laughter. The fact that I wasn't scared of being arrested was perhaps the first sign to myself that I was an adult. Usually I'd be shaking in my mom-labeled underwear. Nonetheless, there was no arrest. He silently took our IDs and called in to check for past offenses. After finding that up to that point, we had lived law-abiding lives, he handed us a ticket for sixty bucks and told us to have a better day.
As soon as he let us go, we nearly sprinted to the train in a fit of giggles. We jumped onto a train filled with the very same people who had walked by moments earlier as we stood shamed as the PO wrote up our tickets. Some people had looked sympathetic, others, like we were the scum of the earth. And as we rode on the train, we laughed and Emily mentioned something about "not belonging", and I swear, if I didn't know us, I would have been annoyed. So I figured it was just a sixty dollar subway ride. I sat in the Priority Seating. Hell, I decided I deserved it.
Oh well, makes for a good story. Especially when I had to explain to the bossman why I was late. Even my mother laughed. And if you know my mom, you know that's quite a feat!
Onto more important matters. Who gets a civil disobedience ticket at 9 am in the morning? Me that's who. Now before you start to live vicariously through me, I warn that the story is pretty boring and does not involve nudity or violence in any way. It's 9 o'clock in the morning, I'm walking to the subway with my good friend Emily. We're laughing and chatting about nothing in particular. It's her first morning in her new place, my old place as of this Saturday. I'm happy to be walking to the subway with someone I know. Well last Friday, I spent my last ride on my MetroCard and spent the weekend lazily buying Single Ride tickets. Needless to say, part of my planned to be uneventful morning was purchasing a new card. As we walk in the station, I casually walk up to the machine, only to be greeting with a "No Signal" message on the screen. I've seen many out of service messages on this very machine, but never that one. Seems more suitable for a cell phone or wireless internet connection but whatever. Technology these days, sheesh.
So in order for me to buy a card I'd have to climb the stairs back to street level, walk an avenue block, descend the stairs and potentially be greeted by the very same message on the other machines. Emily had a better idea. "Squeeze in with me!" I mean, on paper, it was a good plan. No security cameras to speak of and a seemingly empty station, I went for it. It was much more appealing than the other option, and hell, I'm a good citizen and had only done this once before, which from what I hear, is pretty honorable for someone who rides the subway everyday. Of course, as we squeeze in, push through, and head for our train, a NYPD officer walks up the stairs towards us. He came from out no where. Maybe he didn't know. We played it cool.
"Can I see some ID from you two?" Shit. "Have either of you ever been arrested?" Double shit.
As much as I wanted to cry, (to try and ease the punishment a little bit), I couldn't do anything but laugh. Call me crazy, but what the hell. Hilarious. Arrested for not paying 2 dollars? The potential cell-block conversations filled my head and I nearly doubled over in laughter. The fact that I wasn't scared of being arrested was perhaps the first sign to myself that I was an adult. Usually I'd be shaking in my mom-labeled underwear. Nonetheless, there was no arrest. He silently took our IDs and called in to check for past offenses. After finding that up to that point, we had lived law-abiding lives, he handed us a ticket for sixty bucks and told us to have a better day.
As soon as he let us go, we nearly sprinted to the train in a fit of giggles. We jumped onto a train filled with the very same people who had walked by moments earlier as we stood shamed as the PO wrote up our tickets. Some people had looked sympathetic, others, like we were the scum of the earth. And as we rode on the train, we laughed and Emily mentioned something about "not belonging", and I swear, if I didn't know us, I would have been annoyed. So I figured it was just a sixty dollar subway ride. I sat in the Priority Seating. Hell, I decided I deserved it.
Oh well, makes for a good story. Especially when I had to explain to the bossman why I was late. Even my mother laughed. And if you know my mom, you know that's quite a feat!
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