ceci n’est pas une blog.

now that i’ve bitched everyone’s ear off about how much moving sucks, i’d like to move on to the good things about it, by giving you a clear picture of what i am leaving, and why i am so thrilled.

this is the story of yesterday.

i was packing, of course, when i smelled smoke coming from outside. because it was so nice outside, i assumed someone was cooking out or having a bonfire. i heard some firetrucks shortly after, and figured there was something minor going on in the area. after about a half hour, i noticed the smell of smoke getting worse, and i went to close my windows. the air outside was chalky, thick, dark gray. the fire was bad, and it was close.

after a short moral debate with myself, i grabbed my camera and took off, wanting to see something cool. i walked down the block and around the corner, following the smoke. there was a crowd in front of an ancient victorian house, starting at the billowing smoke. realizing this is the house i can see from my backyard, i headed back home.

my neighbor was outside, and there was a perfect view from my yard. we watched the action, the flames licking along the roof, the firemen smashing through walls, the ladders being raised. i got firehose spray on me, as it shot over the roof and into my yard. it was scary and exciting to watch, though i felt a bit dirty for doing it. the report was that the place was uninhabited and there were no injuries.

i went back to doing my thing. when i took the garbage out, i noticed the neighbors setting up for a barbecue. they tend to have loud parties late into the night, so i was rather wary. within an hour, there were cars parked all over my street, including one in my driveway. when i asked them to move it, they backed out and left it, parked, in the middle of the street. (i do live at the end of a cul de sac, so cars do not need to get through. however, there are other houses and driveways at the end of the street, which they were blocking). these fucktards filled in the end of the street like it was a parking lot.

highlights from their party include screaming, cheering, and clapping for no apparent reason, blasting crappy music, and lots of kids driving away drunk. while outside briefly, i watched a girl fight with her boyfriend and stumble away to her car, 40 in hand.

meanwhile, on the other side . . .

the neighbors that share my duplex moved in recently. they argue a lot, and seem to have a lot of drama in their lives. on a regular basis, they have awful, scary, screaming fights that i can hear through my walls. sometimes they fight outside, and i’m sure the whole neighborhood can hear. it is wholly unpleasant, even more so because there is a child living there.

last night, they started arguing. within minutes, we were hearing smashing against the walls, screaming, and horrible anger. it was so bad i was shaking, having a panic attack. when it got even worse, we decided to call the police – i was afraid someone was getting hurt.

they calmed down after the police came. the party on the other side went on, loudly, until at least 2.

since i woke up today, have been listening to a shrieking, barking dog somewhere in the distance. my nosy neighbor is ALWAYS outside and ALWAYS wants to talk. a constant stream of neighborhood litter ends up in my backyard.

my new apartment is in the middle of nowhere.

and i can’t fucking wait.

i had to get away from the bookshelf. it was being way to difficult, giving me attitude and sass. i was trying to fix it ; it wanted nothing to do with me. it refused to listen to soft, comforting talk, and did not respond to being yelled at. after it scraped my leg, dribbled glue on the carpet, and fell apart again, i kicked it hard and stormed away.

i swear, i am a sane and rational person. i’m even usually even considered ‘nice,’ yet i somehow lost it on an inanimate object. although it is the time of month where i start to lose patience with things, hate myself, and cry a lot, hormones cannot take the blame entirely. i wonder if the DSM has listed ‘relocation anxety’ as an official disorder yet.

it seems moving is making me a fucking lunatic. i am frantic, manic, at most times. i can think of nothing but packing, moving, carrying the heavy furniture. i’m impatient, moody, sensitive. moving has taken over my brain, and is not being too friendly. it happens every time – i think i should be used to it by now. If my count is accurate, this will be the seventh move in about ten years. most were short distances, one was major. all were difficult, stressful, and exhausting, both physically and emotionally.

i’m not sure what it is that is so upsetting and difficult. it’s a lot of work, yes. i’ve been spending all my non-working time packing, organizing, and cleaning. i’m stiff and sore in the morning from the physical work (i take the blame there for not being in better shape, but i can still whine about it a little). i can’t walk from my bedroom to my kitchen without hopping over boxes and dodging piles of stuff. my favorite things are in boxes, and my fingers are crossed that nothing breaks. there is a roll of tape and a sharpie in every room.

all i see is disorder everywhere – i used the term ‘visually stressful’ the other day, to myself, and was immediately annoyed by the obnoxiousness of such a phrase. i corrected myself, using the proper term ‘a fucking mess,’ while thinking of george carlin – ‘it’s not ‘post traumatic stress disorder – it’s SHELL SHOCK!’ gotta keep myself grounded, right? moving is not a time to get uppity.

i need boxes, i need days off, i need newspapers, i need caffeine and cigarettes and drugs. i need friends to help lug boxes, i need it to not get too hot in the next two weeks.

anyway, i’ve already taken too much time to write this. the break gave me a bit of sanity, though. i may not harm any more furniture today. i will, however, daydream about owning bookshelves that don’t fall apart, and wonder what it’s like to have movers handle all this shit.