did i do the right thing?

thursday i put up a roommate ad. i can't believe i did it, but it makes sense: i have more space than i need, and less money than i need. i really treasure my privacy, but is it worth an extra $400 a month? maybe. maybe if the real estate biz was making more money. maybe if i didn't need to come up with tuition in less than a month. maybe if the car i bought and drove maybe 4 times did not crap out on me and need at least $300 in repairs. maybe if i was having all sorts of loud sex that i didn't want to disturb a theoretical roommate with. but alas... and then, last night i got all creeped out and thought, hm, maybe having a warm bodied someone else around would be a good idea... 1 AM, on the balcony working on the list, i hear a strange noise that sounds like someone pulling duct tape off of a roll. a few minutes before, i'd heard footsteps on the sidewalk which seemed to fade in but not back out, but didn't think much of it... but why would someone be using duct tape in my hallway? got up, looked in the hallway window, didn't see anything. thought maybe, someone was taping a note to someone's door, and the only tape they had was gigantic? but given the angle of the noise, and the lack of anyone in my sight line from the balcony, it would have to be MY door, and i was obviously home, visible from the street. hmmm. so i went inside to look out the peephole in the front door, which made some noise, given the squeaky balcony door. and there was a man standing a few steps down from the landing. frozen. having heard me come in. at this point i realize he's probably not supposed to be there, so i get quiet, hold still, watching. he stands frozen for 30 seconds or so, then starts tiptoe-ing backward down the stairs. once i lose him in my limited scope, i go back outside, lean over the balcony railing, so as to see him emerge. he does so quietly, holding the door so it doesn't slam the way i wish my neighbors would, and looks directly up at me. i stand my ground, still unsure of what's up-- 6 new neighbors moved in while i was away, and i've only met one of them, so really, who knows? then he asks me if it's midnight yet. at this point, had my brain not been nearly frozen by 12 straight hours of staring at real estate listings, i might've thought back to the last time a stranger asked me the time just before midnight, but... all i thought was, hmmmm. after i saw him turn the corner at the end of the block, i went out into the hallway and found the source of the noise. earlier, a friend had brought me some new chairs, and i noticed a package sitting on the 2nd floor landing for the guy who lives upstairs from me. the mailman is smart enough not to leave packages in the foyer, visible from the street... this guy had opened the package, hence the noise, presumably to see if anything valuable was inside that he could steal. (all i saw left was a cup holder of some sort, though who knows what he might've put in his pocket.) okay, so technically we have a felony here, right? so i should call the cops. but the first thing that occured to me was to write a note to the guy upstairs, letting him know why his mail was opened. then i remembered seeing that another neighbor had left her rent check downstairs for the mailman to pick up, rather than walking it to the post box at the corner, and i thought, i should let her know not to do that anymore. as i was working on my second draft of this 3 sentence note (haha, don't you wish i'd be so specific here!!?!), i saw the guy walk by again, across the street. and THEN i finally thought, OH. i should really call the cops. what if he's waiting for the bars to close so he can rob someone? i went for the phone, and thought: wait. what the hell are the cops going to do at this point? round up every 30-or-maybe-40-ish black guy wearing a white t-shirt in my neighborhood? for one thing, they have better things to do. (like hang out in the 7-11 parking lot laughing at the drunks leaving the bars... but that's another story...). for another, i don't want to encourage that sort of round-up. i hate that all the bars in my neighborhood look like white frat parties, and i know way too many people who've been arrested because they looked like some vague description of someone who might've done something wrong. so i didn't call them. i decided that if i saw him walk by again, i would. but he didn't. so i suppose if he mugged someone (or worse) later that night, i'm partly responsible. i finished my work around 3:30 am, all the while looking for him every few minutes, and went to bed. but i couldn't get to sleep. i finally wondered: what the FUCK was he doing on the landing? what were the odds of there being a package for him to open sitting there? what was his original plan, before he came across the package? did he see me out there with my $1700 laptop and think, i wonder if that girl forgot to lock her door, or, i wonder if she has a shitty lock on it that i could kick open? (the answer to that is a bit frightening, and i can assure you i'll be getting a new one SOON.) every weekend night since the new neighbors moved in, the kids downstairs have had people over, loudly, after the bars close, usually til 3 or 4, but last night it was dead silent. and obviously no one was home upstairs, or else their mail wouldn't still be on the landing. and i knew the girl across the hall wasn't home, because i'd talked to her earlier and knew her plans. so i laid awake til the sun was halfway up and i finally calmed my mind down and was too exhausted to worry anymore. before i left for work today, i hid my laptop in my closet. (it's not the first time i've done such a thing-- whenever i go out of town and don't take it, i stash it out of sight, just to be safe, because in many ways, it's the most valuable thing i own...) i didn't talk to anyone at work about this tonight (except a brief mention to the gal who drove me home, because when we pulled up, it looked at first as if the light i'd left on was out), but later i talked to P. in the past, when i've called him scared about some thing or other-- including the time i was nearly mowed down by a drunk driver, who totalled about a dozen cars right in front of me, after which i was shaking so badly i wouldn't have been able to call him if he hadn't been on speed dial-- he has always blown me off, acted like i was paranoid or a scaredy-cat girl, yet he was surprised, in this case, that i hadn't called the cops. am i crazy here? should i have called them? postscript: not five minutes after i posted this, i stood up to get a fresh drink, and i heard a car pull up out front. curious, i went to the balcony, where i saw a white car idling, and a black guy, maybe 30's-ish, get out and walk toward the building. aha!, i thought. and then: huh? what's that aha exactly? that really was one of my new neighbors, and he happens to be a mail-thief? no, silly: this is my newspaper carrier. and that's probably the guy who would've ended up getting arrested if i'd called the cops last night. and yeah, there's the scant possibility that my newspaper carrier is my mail-thief, and that he only has one outfit. but somehow i feel better. maybe it's the beer. and, hey: kroger's running the same lame sale as last week? bollocks!

YES IT IS! IT IS THE HEAT!

i grew up in this heat & humidity. i've always hated it, partly because i sweat more profusely than the average jane, and partly, no doubt, because i grew up without central AC. but i've also hated the people who live in it year after year and yet complain from may til september. one of my favorite summer phrases is "it's not the heat, it's the stupidity." but this year: wow. i've been trying not to whine or write or even THINK about it, but this week it's near impossible to think about anything else. this, despite the fact that i do have a little window unit, one that's meant to cool one room, not a 900 sf apartment. (i wasn't planning on replacing roomie's window unit when she left, but alas... i had to send money home from NY so P could buy one back in july, else he wasn't going to apartment-sit anymore. and boy am i ever glad, now, that i did.) i remember my first trip to arizona: i thought i'd died and gone to heaven, to find a place where, in august, it was 100 degrees and I WAS NOT SWEATING! i do realize this has disadvantages of its own, and this summer, even the lack of humidity is not much benefit to speak of when the temperature soars to the hundred-teens. when it's that hot, all you can do is find a cool cave that a bear has abandoned and cozy up in it til september. so, i'm going to take the advice of the weather folks on the news and stay inside unless absolutely necessary. not that i need much prodding to do that.

ships? or boats?

when i was very young, and my dad was still working on aircraft carriers, whenever my mom and i would drive near or to the piers, especially when he was coming back in from a cruise, i would sing a little song that went like this: "da-ddy, wa-wa, da- ddy, wa-wa..." why does that still pop into my head so often? and: yesterday, in the times, there was an article about yet another blogger. i already read a bunch of the "cool" ones, most of which actually ARE fun to read, though that guy rob over at clublife is getting a little redundant with his guido nonsense... anyhoo, this week's flavah is stephanie klein. and i'm checking her out, and i'm reminded that i keep meaning to do an update of the hundred things from a couple few years ago, and so i start it, and then i'm scrolling down, and i see this post... it says this to me: "believe people when they show you who they are." and this is kinda the answer to something that's been gnawing at me today, and for several days previous. she continues on, talking about self-worth, just so there's no confusion, and i appreciate her for that. so, thanks, stephanie, and congrats on your fame. i hope it serves you well.

blackouts

so much for the "enjoying waiting tables" comment. the last two nights have been nothing but ugh. tuesday, we had no electricity when i arrived, so we sat for just over an hour & a half in the heat doing absolutely nothing until, at my wit's end and about to walk out the door, job be damned, it finally came on. the manager on duty, who happened to be one of the owners, gave us 20 minutes to get ready (as opposed to the usual 45) before he opened the door without warning. the tone of the evening had already been set. i got barked at for asking a man to clarify his drink order-- his wife ordered a strawberry daquiri, and he asked for a "plain" one, which for all i knew might've meant he wanted NO flavoring, as opposed to lime... excuse me for wanting to get it right!-- someone dumped part of a bottle of grenadine on my hands and pants... then we were dead, partly because the early crowd went elsewhere, and the owner/mgr took the down time to spread gossip, including details on personnel decisions that were yet to be made, with people who specifically and emphatically do not like the person involved. (a huge pet peeve of mine in the industry as a whole.) afterward, S and i decided to grab some beer and hot dogs and go to my place to veg and watch crap television. we were paying separately at kroger, so as to split the cost, and we made the mistake of using the self-checkout. the attendant asked for both of our IDs, and S's was expired, so despite the fact that we were making separate transactions, they wouldn't sell me the beer. i totally get this, since i deal with such problems at work, but (a) the law, as i understand it, says that anyone under 30 has to be carded, and i don't fit that description, and (b) just because two people are chatting in line does not mean they are together. (i actually run into people i know at that kroger more often than anywhere else in the city.) so we stopped at a gas station, since she needed to fill up anyway, and the pump she chose wouldn't work... finally, we got to my house, watched a movie (which ended poorly, but oh well), and she left. today, she told me that while she was parked in my neighborhood, less than half a block from my house, someone bashed in the front of her car so badly that she can't get the hood open. (which, for those of us with older cars that need oil regularly, is an even bigger problem that it already is for anyone.) so tonight, a fresh start. the other manager/owner happened to be working, and while i used to hate working shifts with him because of his reluctance to send people home until way after it's reasonable to do so, i'm growing to appreciate him more... things were going fairly well, and S and i decided to go out after work, to play free pool (ladies night) at my favorite bar, where i haven't been in two months. it wasn't a perfect night, but i had nice tables and was making decent money. with only two hours left, i got a five top who was spending serious money, behaving themselves, being courteous... and, as a bonus, one of them said something that let me know he was a server, either past or present, which is shorthand for "treat us right and we'll leave you a great tip." just as i was serving them a third bottle of wine, boom! the electricity went out. AGAIN. with a restaurant full of people. after dark. this particular table took it in stride-- they were sitting by the window, and the streetlights on the other side of the street weren't out, so they saw no reason to leave, but the owner would not let us serve anything else, even drinks, so i couldn't oblige them. they were nice about it, and even paid cash, which saved me the hassle of printing a manual charge slip by candlelight, as i had to do for another table... and then, once we shepherded everyone out safely, it came time to play "who wants to ask the boss whether we have to clean up?" it's not that we're lazy (well, not all of us), it's just that carrying dozens of glasses and plates in the pitch dark is not the smartest or safest idea. luckily, he realized this, so despite the extra work it's going to cause for whomever is unfortunate enough to work in the morning, he didn't require us to do it. and somehow, that made us want to. so we did. carefully. the money checkout was another story, but i was smart enough to add up my charge tips and subtract them from my cash, and put the difference in my pocket without mentioning it. other servers were not so smart, and found their plans for the evening dashed when they realized that without a computer checkout, those who couldn't do math would have to just turn everything in and get their money some other day. S unfortunately got caught in the middle of a conversation between one of the math dolts and the owner, and had to follow suit. our bar plans were thus scuttled, so we just came here and drank leftovers from last night and watched more crap tv for an hour or so, after which she understandably decided to go home and give it another shot with a new day tomorrow. thankfully (i think), i don't work again until sunday, by which time i hope that whatever's going wrong will have been fixed. (false confidence, i'm sure.) meanwhile, i'm not feeling so good about having just signed a new lease here. the neighborhood feels sketchier as time passes. fingers crossed that it's just the heat, and that it will pass quickly...

random (half-lit-- but only half) thoughts

--there was a time when i wanted to be sarah dash when i grew up. --brooks doesn't think i realize (or appreciate) how much of an impact he had (has!) on my life-- but i do. --i really don't mind waiting tables for a living. sometimes i even enjoy it. --i can't remember who got me singing "i was raised by a toothless lesbian" at the beginning of "jumpin jack flash," but it makes me miss mole, so it must've been either him or brooks. or maybe ryan. --i don't know what kind of life i'd have without the stones. thank you, boys. --i'm still in shock that they're playing with freakin' beck, in columbus, the night of mp's wedding. sigh. good tickets for hershey park on ebay are only, like, a month's rent. --i am still obsessing on biker boy. what the hell's my problem???

100 (+/-) movies to see

my movies-to-be-seen list is filed away here. suggestions always welcome...

home sweet home

ah, i'm home! i missed my balcony so... and yet, an air conditioner appeared in my apartment whilst i was gone, and it's in the 90s outside, so the balcony is slightly less appealing than it was in my yearning. except, of course, at 4am, when i should be sleeping. i got back on sunday night, after nearly missing my desired train-- thank goodness it left 4 minutes late, and i wish i could've given the customer service woman at penn station a hug when she literally threw the ticket at me and pointed to the appropriate escalator and yelled RUN! i got there on time, i swear, and even had a great cab driver who took me to the correct entrance, but the line for tickets... let's just say i had thirty minutes to wish i still had credit cards, so i could've used the quiktrak machine. ah well. soon enough: i have only two more days to finish the paperwork and hand over a few more hundred bucks to the lawyer to get that ball rolling. anyhoo, this is the week i'm hosting P's niece, so it's a tentative homecoming, with a 15 year old houseguest, as well as a crusty layer of dirt, despite P's well-meant "cleaning." (it looks like he's been hosting mud-wrestling tournaments on my kitchen floor, but i expected that.) last night we hung out and watched bad tv, interspersed with her myspace wanderings... apparently her mom is a computer "hog" (though the girl has her own cell phone, ipod, etc-- egad!) so despite my logical brain thinking she must be bored, my memory says, "remember age 15: time away from parents with lenient relatives! sublime!" tuesday night we took her to the movies (batman begins)... not bad, though definitely not worthy of the spontaneous applause that broke out when the movie ended. wednesday night, approaching quickly, is all me, because P has to work. however shall i entertain her? without a car to go shopping, which is what *I* want to do? thursday i'm pulling for an r-braves game, but we'll see. and friday: back to the movies. johnny depp. and in a movie that i don't have to think twice about taking a 15 yr old to. thank you, johnny! more when i get back to grownup land...

an ode to james lipton

new york has never been a celebrity-sighting town for me. in fact, the first three times i ever came to the city, i ran into people i knew from richmond, and on each trip i spend time with friends who live here, so it gives my perception of the city a personal quality. that's not to imply that i don't love walking around gawking like a tourist, just that i've never really thought of the city as a place where famous people live, where i might get to observe them in their habitat. to my knowledge, i've never seen anyone famous in the city, though last year i brushed by a guy in hell's kitchen who was a dead ringer for george clooney, but taller, and with wider shoulders, than i imagine him to be. so it amused me yesterday when i found myself playing phone tag with kedakai lipton, wife of james, of the actor's studio. it seems she's a real estate agent, and a rather successful one at that, and she has a client who wanted to see one of our exclusives. i missed her initial call because i was dealing with the gas line guy at the time, and because of the convoluted way we have the phones set up right now, names don't come up on my cell caller ID, only numbers. i had to listen to her message three times to understand her name-- because of a lifetime of people butchering mine, i like to get names right before i call back whenever possible-- but if i had picked up the digital line first, i would've seen "james lipton" on the ID. this tickled me much more than it probably should... now, i am not a huge james lipton fan. he comes off as a pompous ass in many ways. however, there are a few things that endear him to me. i know, i know, he's a supreme ass-kisser... but if he's comfortable enough in his manhood to gush over johnny depp on national television despite having cultivated an image as a pompous, elite bastard, well... (i should point out that this approach only works if you don't take the show too seriously-- my antipathy toward charlie rose will not be budged by any gushing he might emit, because his format begs to be taken seriously, whereas any show that airs on bravo, home of queer eye and blowout, is asking to be construed solely as entertainment, not serious news, despite lipton's airs. charlie rose can still bite me for that time he asked toni morrison what it was like for her and her "mammy and pappy" growing up in the old south. and of course that's what she called them, charlie, 'cause, you know, she's black. jackass.) but i digress. another reason i like ol' james is because, at least on camera, he treats the students at the school with respect and gravitas. but the initial thing that helped me get over his pomposity is his cute references to his wife. at least once during every episode of the show i've seen, he's worked her name into the interview in some side comment, and always with a shy little smile in her direction (as she seems to always be in the audience). and i think that's just adorable.

random thoughts

i've been thinking about cw a lot lately, though i can't get my thoughts focused. i guess it's just nostalgia, mixed with concern over the latest round of cancelled shows. (though not over the nonsense on the current incarnation of the discussion boards. egads.) i just found out via a review that the new album was recorded just over the river from here, in kingston, which serves as the nearest town with target, walmart, and other shopping conveniences. obviously i've only seen the strip of shops, but it's weird to think of it as having much more. still up in the air as to whether i'll come back up here after the week at home. C was really pushing for it, and i was considering it but hadn't committed... i was trying to be a good, responsible friend, and not take advantage of his kindness and generosity, so i told him that i wasn't sure there'd be enough for me to do here that i couldn't do from richmond. after this week, most of the things that require someone to be here, such as hookups and the gas line installation that's scheduled for tomorrow, will be done. i would still be of help to him, in the sense that if he's paying me to be here, then he can call me to run errands and look up information without worrying about whether i'm home (because i'll have to go back to waiting tables when i return), but i'm not sure that's worth what he's paying me. so today, my task happened to be entering the last couple month's receipts into their accounting software, and i realized, this man spends money like it's water! i knew that about him specific to travel, as well as expense accounts when he was practicing corporate law, but i didn't realize he was like that on a day to day basis. just in the month that i have been here, i do believe he's spent more than i made all of last year-- and i am not including any of his bills, just his daily receipts, for cabs and meals and entertainment and house supplies. granted, he's in the middle of renovating a house, starting a new job, and he has an infant daughter (and, granted, i didn't make much last year!), but still-- wow. and i didn't even count the trip he took to montreal, about which even HE noted that he'd spent a lot of money. my point is not "he's loaded so why worry"-- he's not, really, though he'll get that way eventually-- but that his concept of what things are worth is clearly so far removed from mine. too bad i think i talked him into seeing the initial point of my argument before i realized that it was faulty!