Perhaps starting a new journal might be the order of he day. Perhaps not. I used to like writing (yes, but typing ain’t the same as writing) mainly because it was a relief to get that ‘shit’ outa me, but best because I was doing it strictly for me. Meaning no one else was gonna read it, so why not. Then my wife got hold of… well, OK. Then I found the Internet and blogs. Oh my. To put my angst online… wow. And here I be.
I had an idea to blather on about, but caught up in the local drama around me, meaning the place where I live. I just got away from my front door to talk to the security folks that my landlord hires (Ottawa Community Housing) about my neighbor above me. I have to say here that I am a part of social housing, that my landlord is actually the City of Ottawa, and the security is part of that social programming network. I am eternally grateful to be a part of this safety net, this thing that helps to keep me… yeah, I’m grateful.
Hehe, and now I just got off the phone with these security folk (mainly because I don’t know who else to call. The lad on the phone stated when he interrupted my explanation of my call to say that he had to put me on hold because there was an emergency. So I hung up.
I’m getting long-winded here. The boy above me was doing his fairly regular “Let’s go INSANE” routine today. And has been for the past three hours. I finally couldn’t take it any more and called the security folk I mentioned before. And then again. And for a third time. And still, the boy above does his cuckoo dance. Albeit, with less vehemence and banging, but the cursing and yelling continues. So, here I be.
I have been a part of this social housing since 1988, so, 27 years or so. I have learned over time that complaints do not (ever) change anything unless it is a criminal matter and police get involved (and even then, there is NO guarantee that anything changes). I am just at a point right now where I felt that I had to do something. I tried the cops last year with my boy’s guitar playing (electric and REALLY load). They said no one else complained, and it was outside of city and provincial guidelines for noise (being about 2 in the afternoon) and to call my landlord.
Well. The phrase from Ghostbusters comes to mind. “Who Ya Gonna Call?” My current thought is no one. It doesn’t matter. Nothing gets done. Nothing changes. Altho’, I was assured by the two security folk who knocked on my door that my call(s) was important and the more info they have, they can “Do” something.
Hokay, fine. I called three times. First to complain about the noise. Second to complain about the noise and the fact that the noise continued as TWO security cars were parked outside the building (side note: I’m on the 2nd floor, and the noise maker is above me on the 3rd floor). The third call was to let the security folk know that I was told that the phone calls make a difference and that they need them to do anything… and that nothing had changed. Only to be put on hold. But that last bugaboo in my hair is only because of my intolerance and lack of trust in the system.
Now I know why I like to be as separate from society… and the building in which I reside, as much as I do. Call me an isolationist (which I would not argue), but, heck. It’s summer. I like having my balcony doors open to air my apartment out and kinda enjoy that air. But, with the arguments and complaining and yelling from folks on the sidewalk one story below me…. the folks who seem to enjoy smoking in the halls instead of their own place… the guitar shredding, floor pounding, curse screaming boy (my my, he is 50!) above me… the yahoos in my fellowship who see one thing and love to project another… Nope, I’d rather be by myself and simply not deal with other living humans, not that I’d rather deal with dead ones.
So. Lots of typed words. A few phone calls. And. I still sit with the same thing I did before all this started. Screaming. Banging. Cursing. Oh well, in an hour I will have a legitimate noise complaint to make, bylaw-wise. Bugger is, I don’t know if I call city bylaw officers or the cops. I get the feeling that neither would do or mean shit. Maybe tonight, but tomorrow? Next week?? Next month???
Keep The Faith*