Par Example

Parfois, "sometimes, people will say the opposite of what is true as an attempt at levity" Craig Ferguson twittering. I like that.

I also like that someone stole my car's license plates, thus making my departure tomorrow, this morning, quite impossible, and thus giving me a chance to write something. Life has been so boring lately. What with my mom moving out into her own apartment, and moi looking frantically for a place to rent before the demolition crew arrives, and by process of elimination, finding myself in Arizona. I think I'll take the offer presented to me there. It was one I couldn't refuse and it was affordable. That was it. Nothing more. Boring. Well, there was also a recording I was doing and just in the middle of completion. That's all. Life is easy. Even the demolition crew, which arrived unannounced, did not keep me from staying on course, i.e. thinking about and doing the leg work for my move to Arizona and the leg work for the CD which is coming out. By leg work I do mean mainly finger work. The keyboard. It is very close to suggesting music. The personal kind of music which has perhaps brought about the expression "music to my ears".

Where was I? So, I was ready to leave with my car and some belongings to Arizona. Drive cross-country to Arizona. I had always dreamed of it. There is only one way to see the country. And that's by seeing the country. There were some other boring incidents having to do, for example, with me getting angry one morning because I was awakened by the sound of the house being banged on. I opened my bedroom door, and found a worker dismantling the door next to mine. Who wants to wake up like that? Specially after a night of pure headache (my doctor told me all headaches are unexpressed anger and/or rage). Whether it is true or not, I don't know. But in this case it sounds true to me. I had already heard the sounds of demolition and remodeling for a month every day except Sundays. I pulled the door shut behind me in a way that would show anger. Bang! "Why don't you get a tractor and go over the house once and be done with" I told him walking as far away from the noise as possible. "They told me to come to work, I came to work" he said for his defense.
"Nobody asked you to come to work. You came to work because you wanted to come to work and you chose this morning to come to work. I know this. We are all dancing to your tune." This information was gathered by me through multiple telephone calls to the landlord. One time, in order not to hit this man, I had offered to make him a salad. He had refused in such a way as if his refusal might upset me. "Oh no, thank you very much. I just had some lunch, that is why." After hearing Dave Letterman talk about a friend who overtipped a bad waiter and explained it as sarcasm, this whole salad incident became very clear to me.

A few days later, a Saturday, before nine o'clock, after another headachy night which was still lingering by the time I awakened to the sound of heavy banging with a hammer. I opened the door stumbled out towards the sound and found the other worker from Mehico spread out on the floor banging on something. I didn't look for details, I just wanted the sound to stop. "Stop" I said at the same time as the Fire Department's alarm horn started tooting. It is across the street from where I live and it can start at any time of the day or night. The worker continued banging on the floor and I kept saying "stop", louder each time until he heard me. He turned to me and said very calmly "alarm" and went back to work. That's when I screamed "STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP!" I showed him my head and said "headache" because he no speak inglaise. I thought him a few words in English though before this incident. I even fed him twice. He wanted to go to California with me. I told him I am not going to California, I am going to Arizona. He said he will go to Arizona with me. So I had to explain that I am invited there, whereas he, is not. I came back to my room, closed the door and started screaming at the top of my lungs. Crying, screaming, from pain, both emotional and physical. When I came to, my headache was gone. At one point he came to the door and I could hear him say "Miss, Miss, are you ok?" All I could say was "GO HOME". Then in the middle of my pain I thought he would think I mean Mehico and would start a discrimination suit on me, I said, "Go Upstairs", where he had nested for the last month and where I used to live. He did and I could hear him talk on the phone probably saying things he imagined because I can understand how that would not make sense to someone. An hour later, he worked some more but this time in a totally different manner. As if he was afraid to make a sound, he was sandpapering a newly installed door. He did a good job. The other guy demolished, this one built. That's life.

That was that. He left that Saturday and wanted me to give him a ride instead of him walking five miles to the bus stop. I hesitated for a moment, then I got my Christian courage up and said "ok" as the demolition guy walked in with a friend and I asked him immediately to give the worker a ride and he agreed. I have seen none of them since. Another call to the landlord was met by stern reprimand. I had screamed at the workers and asked them to leave. And that's the truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth.

I accelerated my departure taking advantage of the lull and producing better results for my work and even reserved a hotel room in Ohio to have a deadline which was to be today. This morning. Sunday, March 21, 2010.

But someone has stolen my car's license plates.