Excuse me, it's PsychOTIC, ok?

Last week, we had a somewhat informal meeting in our break room at work. X, our very own Psycho walked in a few minutes late and the senior attorney who’d called the meeting briefly said hello before continuing with whatever he was saying. Only to be cut off by her saying that she doesn’t go by the name “Psychotic.” It’s just Psycho. Seriously, it was like calling Pam by her full name of Pamela or a guy who typically goes by Fred Frederick instead. But apparently she doesn’t go by her full name, just the shortened form. Whatever. The attorney apologized and the meeting continued. She sat in the corner and kept her sunglasses on. Did I mention that this meeting was in our break room which is INSIDE the building?

About 5 minutes later, Psycho suddenly stood up and gathered up all of her personal belongings loudly. The meeting continued. She cut off whoever was talking and announced loudly that she can’t stay in that room any longer. That the light in the break room hurts her eyes and that’s a fact that’s generally known around the office. It’s too bad that we couldn’t hold the meeting somewhere else where she could actually participate. The senior attorney, without missing a beat, said that he was sorry to hear that. And that a similar meeting would be scheduled later in the week for judges and perhaps she could try to attend that one instead.

Later, after we had all walked back to our desks, he showed me the little post-it that Psycho had left on his computer. “It is NOT ok to call me Psychotic.” The official reprimand . . . For all we know she’s filing her grievance right now with her union representative. Certainly she was yelling about something related to a violation of her rights to the director later on that morning. I tried to glean what she was saying but couldn’t. Damn.

The yelling loudly to management isn’t a first either. A couple of weeks before the “lighting” incident, my friend C messaged me on our office chat to come by her office immediately, making sure to pause for an extra long time near our supervisor’s office on my way over. I did and heard Psycho going off in his office. And I mean OFF. I pretended to be looking for something in the filing cabinets kind of outside his office in order to hear what was going on. I wasn’t the only one. And heard bits and snippets of “Well, I told you weeks ago that I might be coming in late a lot because I have this situation. That the DA is involved, and I’m trying to resolve it.” And, “are you telling me that I can’t use my leave in whatever way I want?” The scene must have lasted for a good ten minutes before she stormed out of his office.

This week she’s been sporting a splint on her arm because she tripped over her dog’s leash while trail running. From what I understand, the doctors were pretty incompetent.

Over the last month or so, probably since around the time of my fun one-on-one conversation with Psycho, there have been a lot of closed doors and, I think, some serious conversations about how to best handle the situation. But OMG, what would we do for entertainment? The hours of office chat that have been devoted to this alone could equal a novel. What would we do with that time instead?

Jan. 23

One year ago on Jan. 23, Gregg and I got married for the first time. We had our Indian ceremony in Oregon, and I had a blog post all planned out for the ocassion, complete with some pics from the wedding and a few random highlights from a year of "wedded bliss." I guess it's a good thing that G and I got married twice.

Because this year, with life being the twisted thing that it is, Jan. 23 was really all about something else entirely. Early that morning, my mom called me to tell me that my paternal grandfather had passed away just hours earlier. It shouldn't have been a shock, but it was. He'd been deteriorating for weeks, but somehow seemed to be hanging in there and even getting better. And anyway, he was my grandfather, and I figured he was invincible. There's lots I could tell you about these last couple of weeks. Life certainly hasn't been uneventful. Me deciding to go to India. Me realizing that I probably shouldn't go to India. My dad rushing to get there. My mom discvoering the intricacies of the internet. So many things that would make for a more exciting/tragic/comic blog entry. But honestly I'd rather just tell you about my grandfather. My grandfather, who was one of my favorite relatives, and the first close relative that I've really lost.

In front of my grandparents' house in India, there is a little bench, and in the morning and evenings, that's where my grandfather would be. Watching everyone come and go. Waiting for friends to come by with the latest gossip or political arguments. I remember visiting when I was in college and going with him on his errands. We'd run to the bank or pharmacy or where ever he needed to go. And everywhere he went, he'd introduce me (you know, to the random bank tellers and street vendors), telling him how I was grand daughter, visiting from the states. And I went to Stanford. I'm sure they were all fascinated. I think it was on that trip that we took a pony cart home one evening because I'd never been on one, and he thought I'd get a kick out of it.

It might have been on that trip too that he got into a fight with some Australians at the bank. Like all Indians, he had no concept of standing in line, and cut in front of an Aussie couple. They took issue, and I had to hold my grandfather back a bit before it turned into an all out brawl. He kept telling them something in English, but I can't for the life of me remember what it was.
Sometimes, on those earlier trips, we'd go eat at a restaurant after doing whatever he needed to do, just because he liked having any excuse to eat out.

Though he had been getting frailer recently, he used to be a big man with a loud booming voice. He always had an opinion and loved to be right. I'd argue back every chance I got, and it seemed at times that nothing could make him prouder than have one of his granddaughters stand up to him. He valued intelligence and education, and was always interested in our jobs or daily lives. I remember I visited once right after I had come back from South America. I developed my trip pictures while in India. Some were from South America, some were of friends from home that I took to finish out the roll (back in the days of non-digital photography), My grandfather was fascinated by every single one. I think some might have involved some drunken friends but hopefully it wasn't that obvious.

But my favorite memories are the little things that I'll never quite remember exactly. The mornings sitting around with him while he sat in grungy old easy chair, telling me stories about something or other. I liked hearing of his travels or younger days, and he was always happy to oblige. It bugs me now that I can't really remember any of the details. Makes me wish I had taken a tape recorder and record every single conversation we'd ever had.

Always a character, and definitely never boring, there are lots of reasons why he was one of my favorite relative. He'll be so missed.

Speaking of crazy . ..

I'm back!! And I have to say, life hasn't been boring lately.

Work's been as annoying as always, but it does have its moments. Not related to the actual work of course. That's as frustrating as it always has been. But I've been realizing lately that as much as certain people bug me, I'd be sad if they left. The resulting drama is the only thing I have to live for during the week. The constant stories of U, who thinks its perfectly normal to be 30 and still supported by her parents are a source of constant fascination. Apparently it runs in the family. Her older sister (who is pregnant and whose life I know SO much about) recently got laid off, which of course sucks. U's response: apparently she told her sister to not worry about the day-to-day expenses of child rearing because of course her parents would help with all that. You know, those pesky things like diapers and food and clothing, which I imagine to be not a small amount? Not a problem when there are grandparents in the picture who will take care of it all. I'm not saying its wrong to ask for help if necessary. But to hear this girl talk, there'll never be a point when she plays adult and strikes out on her own. When unemployed, her parents have paid her rent (i.e. NOT just letting her move in with them which is a different thing entirely. But actually paying the rent on her SF apartment!).

OR there was that time when she was telling me she wanted to make baby food for her sister and was wondering how long it would stay good for. This must have been back in November. I thought maybe her sister had a baby already, but no, she's expecting in April. I had to point out that babies don't actually eat food for a good long while so wasn't it a bit early? I mean, I'm no expert or anything, but it seemed a bit early.

OR there was another time when she tried to explain to me how her car insurance was almost $4k a year because she was involved in one car accident that wasn't her fault and had gotten a speeding ticket way back when when all she was trying to do was get out of a scary LA neighborhood where she had been tutoring these poor little children who desperately needed a good role model (sounds like the cop didn't buy it anymore than I did). She sits right near me, so I can't tell you how often I find myself rolling my eyes when I talk to her.

THEN there's X, our very own resident psycho. Months ago, she approached my friend C and began to tell her about this stalker problem she's been having. Needless to say, C was a bit surprised to be approached and confided in at all since her longest interaction with Psycho occurred when X told her not to say "hey" to her because it was one of the lowest forms of greetings there is. Or during a horrible lunch early on when C asked about Psycho's plans for Thanksgiving only to be told to not pry into her personal life. Um, ok. This was before I started, so I didn't get to see it for myself.

Anyway, so believe me, it was a bit of a shock to be confided in, but since she was cornered in her office, C had no choice but to listen in morbid fascination. She tried to relay the conversation to me immediately after and couldn't even begin. But primarily it had to do with how Psycho had a stalker. She's been forced to move 3 times now because of her. But he always seems to find her because he knows that she likes to bike and looks for aparment buildings that are close to bike trails. So it sounds like he scopes out every single apartment building up and down the peninsula until he finds the one she's hiding out it in. His general purpose in stalking her is to give her AIDS. And he works towards this goal by conspiring with her neighbors. She hears them talking about her through her walls and knows when he's found her.

C, after days of wondering what to do with this info (besides telling me about it), decided to talk to our director. She didn't want to, but the several people she consulted thought it would be irresponsible not to. Even G when I told him all about at home. And who told me I couldn't blog about it. So C had a talk with our director, who it turned out was curious about the specifics but not at all surprised. Clearly he had already been approached by some one in the office.

THEN, a few weeks later, I got stuck at work. Remember my Caltrain fiasco where I ended up having to wait for the train for more than an hour and a half in the evening? Well, apparently Psycho and I were one of the few people still hanging around that day because she came by to chat. And told me all about her stalker herself. I gotta say, if I hadn't heard some of it already, I would have been creeped out. As it was, the only thing that kept me seated was the possibility for a good story. She told me about the AIDS. About how he conspires with her neighbors against her, and wins them over by having sex with them. And gives them such amazing O's that they don't care if he has AIDS. He has a daughter who wants Psycho to be her new mommy. (It's a family stalker situation, I guess). And it was getting to be frustrating because the night before she couldn't even leave her apartment to take her dog out because he was outside in the bushes waiting for her. I wanted to ask about her poor dog (who apparently had been sitting around in the apartment all day and hadn't been out to pee or anything). BUT, there was good news. She's sure that the police are taking her seriously now because they've been following her in order to build their case against him (following HER, I know, makes a lot of sense, right? But seriously, you wouldn't have asked any questions either if you'd been in my shoes). Actually she went for a walk that afternoon and heard a lot of sirens around so she figured it must have been the cops tailing her, although in San Jose she's not sure. Its with the San Mateo police that she's filed her case. She's been in touch with the DA's office there too. Dude, there was a lot more, I'm pretty sure but I couldn't remember it all if my life depended on it. Let's just say it was more in the same vein. And maybe for a second, it seemed plausible. I mean, sure, having a stalker isn't entirely unheard of. But the more she talked about it, the more clear it became that at least 75% of it all is in her head. I picture this loony lady harassing the DA's office with made up stories that they have no idea what to do with. Cops that have stopped responding to her calls. I don't know or maybe that's all in her head too, who knows.

This must have gone on for almost a half hour and would have gone on indefinitely if my phone hadn't rang. I said I had to answer it and she left. It was our director wanting to see if I needed any help extricating myself from the conversation. Oh yah, did I mention his office is right outside mine, so he must have heard at least part of all this?

Since then, although I don't have any more updates on where its at with the staker now, Psycho's been a pretty good source of entertainment. So more next time . . .

more to come . . .

So I have to admit that I've been holding out on you guys a bit. I know I keep saying that there's not much exciting to write about, and that I've been unmotivated, but that's not entirely true. Actually, I've got some totally juicy things happening that I haven't wanted to share. Well, not that I haven't wanted to exactly. But really, I wasn't sure that I should, or how to even begin.

My crazy co-worker story is what comes to mind as falling under this category. Actually, when it all started unraveling initially, G told me that I shouldn't blog about it. First of all, I only knew the inside scoop cuz my co-worker found out and told me. G kept saying, "come on, its not even your secret to share." And I don't know, I think I have maybe one or two co-workers who peer in on this site sometimes. And never mind that I spend a fair amount of time complaining about work in general, but now I want to start throwing work gossip into the mix too? G's points made a lot of sense. So I held off, though it was kind of killing me.

But THEN, crazy co-worker confided in me directly, and it was on. Well, I guess maybe. I still held off, cuz honestly, I had no idea how to begin to start writing it all down. Plus, I'm worried that it's one of those things that just don't look as good on paper as they are when they happen to you. Cuz my jaw was literally dropping as this lady started telling me about her stalker who's trying to give her AIDS. Sure, you're either cracking up or deeply concerned right about now, but nowhere near to what I was feeling as it was happening.

Anyway, as entertaining (in a "whoa-awesome-blog-material kind of way) as it was, the whole thing kind of had me thinking about boundaries, what was appropriate to share and when. Finally, I've decided that you know, I'm sorry. If it makes for good reading, then it stays. And that's that. :) So over the next few posts, I'm going to try to fill in some gaps from the last couple of months. I don't promise to do it quickly. Work's been busy, and it is the holidays after all. Chances are, I won't even start til after Jan. And I swear, its not that I'm trying to keep you guessing. I just wanted to make sure everyone knows that I haven't forgotten about this blog. I know it's been slow lately, but I hope to be getting back to my regular posts here pretty soon. And I have some awesome material to start the new year off with.

calling all crazies

We have a little one bedroom cottage behind our house that we rent out. It's not like we have a use for it, so it's nice to have the extra income. It has a separate entrance, and most of the time we hardly see the person who lives there. Except for the fact that they come in through a gate at the side of the house and go through the back yard, which gets the dogs going crazy everytime they come in or out. But other than that, it's kind of cool. Mia has a tendency to love whoever lives there, especially after one lady (this kind of disgusting one) started feeding her things like ribs and chicken wings. We got to deal with the resulting dog farts, and the tenant had a nightly visitor whenever she came in that ran in as soon as she opened the door. She definitely got the better end of that deal (cuz we got the back end and it wasn't pretty). Since then, Mia is absolutely convinced that who ever is back there has got to be better than her cruel, totally neglectful (i.e. crazy people who will only feed her DOG FOOD twice a day and hardly any scrapes) owners.

Anyway, for the most part part, its a good deal. But I had no idea how having a little place to rent out would bring out SO MANY crazies. Everytime we look for some one to fill the spot, we're inundated with wackos and bums. So now that I'm married to G and part of the fun, I don't have to go into the world to meet crazies. They come right to my door. That particular lady with the ribs was my first experience with G's tenants a couple of years ago. She started chain smoking as soon as she moved in AND moved in her girlfriend with whom she would have frequent arguments. It took us several paint jobs and new carpets to even partially get out the smoke smell. And the random bits of furniture that was in the house while she was living there are STILL airing out in the garage. The best was when I got to meet the girlfriend face to face. G was out of town. Apparently the two ladies had had a fight, and she was knocking on the door asking for a ride to the airport cuz she'd been kicked out. Um, ok. And stupid me got caught off guard and said YES. Even though the airport is like an hour away. No wonder crazies are drawn to me, right? But I don't know, I don't do well under pressure. And it turned out that I was actually picking G up from the airport a couple of hours later, so somehow it seemed like a fine idea to just take her up with me. Except that I wasn't leaving for a couple of hours, and as soon as I said yes, she brought all her bags and just sort of sat on the couch and waited, until I finally decided to just drive to get it over with and figured I'd kill time near the airport until G's flight got in. And the worst part about the whole thing (well, if I had to pick just ONE) was that she cried and complained THE WHOLE RIDE UP and for the entire time, I had no idea what her name was. Seeing as how she wasn't even on the lease to begin with. Turned out that she had flown out from Texas to be with our chain-smoking, rib-loving tenant, and they'd had this on-again, off-again relationship for YEARS. Awesome. That was already way more than I needed to know, but since the ride was an hour long, I got to hear all the gritty details.

So then, when we started looking for some one to replace the tenant (whose gay AND straight sex encounters I knew WAY TOO MUCH ABOUT), our prize candidate was this lady who kept calling and pestering G until he finally agreed to show her the place. Her thing was that she needed Section 8 (low income) housing. We're not really authorized for that, but she seemed to think that we'd really love her and decide to go through all the red tape. And come on, who wouldn't be tempted after meeting her. She came around 9 o'clock at night with her belongings all loaded up in a van - she had already been kicked out of her housing and was ready to move in immediately. She sat in our living room and filled out her rental application instead of taking it with her. She listed her references but asked us not to call her last 2 landlords because they were spreading lies about her and had pretty much blackballed her in all of Santa Cruz county (hence the move to ours). She said it was fine to run her credit but fyi, she'd had some difficulties recently and her credit reflected that. She hoped we would understand. She didn't have a job. AND the best was when we asked for $20 to run her credit check along with her application. She wrote us a check but then called G the next morning asking if he wouldn't mind waiting . Needless to say, we didn't go with her. The sad part was that I think she was thinking the whole time that this place was the one. Like I got the sense (because she said as much) that she was already picturing how some of her belongings would look in certain corners of the apartment. I'm sure she would have loved to bring some stuff in from her van to test it out if we'd let her.

Most recently, we just had to find a new tenant at the beginning of Dec and she seems all right. Except that she's already been late with her first month's rent. Said that she could only withdraw so much $ from her ATM per day and didn't think ahead to get money before moving in (she waited until she was 2 days late to even start withdrawing the first increment). And couldn't pay by check cuz she lost her checkbook in the move. This was after we'd already agreed to let her pay the security deposit in 3 monthly installments. We'll see if we regret our selection. The problem is that we don't seem to get a ton of applicants each time, and we end up trying to pick the best of the lot. I guess the economy's not helping. And its sort of a unique little apartment, not really suited for families or anyone with excellent income. This girl definitely seemed better than the other call G got from some divorced lady with 3 kids who asked if "we could help her out" cuz she only made $600 a month. $600 TOTAL. For all her expenses. That's already less than what the apartment goes for, so I'm not sure how much help she was looking for. Plus she wanted to move all her kids in there too.

So clearly, we didn't have much to work with.

Last Harvest

In order to get a headstart for next year, G found this covering that's supposed to protect plants even through negative temperatures. He had everything bundled up long before this most recent cold spell and left me with strict instructions when he went out of town last week to make sure nothing got blown away. We managed to go through and get one last harvest before saying good bye to fresh veggies for the winter. I got creative with green tomatoes (and they were yummy!), and I think we're planning on opening a chile pepper store.

Pity Party

So I know I've been pretty terrible about blogging lately. And trust me, it's better that way. 'Cuz I haven't had anything funny to blog about. In fact, I have to admit that my life has been far from funny lately and actually a bit depressing. Mostly cuz my job SUCKS, and that's primarily where I do most of my blogging. It's hard to be entertaining when I come into work every morning and immediately feel my life getting sucked out of me. OK, maybe that's a tad bit melodramatic, but not by much. It's been hard. It's not that I expected this job to be the most exciting one I've ever had, but I also didn't expect it be so mind-numbingly miserable and BORING. And I'm not sure what to do about it. For one, has anyone seen the want ads lately? And two, I've only been here about 6 months. I'm not sure how to explain that during an interview. I mean, I could be wrong, but getting into the details of why this place is more terrible than jail doesn't exactly make for a great interview, am I right? A co-worker of mine (one of two who indulges my constant whining) just this morning compared this place to a concentration camp. I actually think she has it a bit worse than me even, but I couldn't have agreed more. So if anyone hears of a great job out there, please save me. I promise you, you'll immediately see an increase in my blogging output.

I do feel bad for complaining. I know I have it pretty good. For one, I have a job. That's more than I can say for about half my friends. Also, when I'm not at work, I have a great life. I love my husband and my dogs. We have a roof over our heads. I have decent friends. I mean, sure I live in the middle of nowhere, but overall, I have a pretty great life. Recently, I had some nice news that distracted me for a whole week and a half from being miserable at work. G has a job, and between us, we have everything we could want and then some. So I know I shouldn't be whining. But I'd never realized how HUGE job satisfaction is. I mean, I guess it makes sense. I spend approximately half my day each day either getting to/from or being at work. It's hard to push this part of my life into one corner and just enjoy everything else. Honestly, by the time I come home, my brain is so fried from boredom that it's hard for me to appreciate much of anything. Especially with the thought of going to bed and having to get up in the morning to do it all over again.

The to/from travel hasn't been great either. This week, G's out of town so I've been leaving the house pretty late in the morning. Too late to catch the last train at 7am (cuz um, you know, before 7 is the PERFECT time to ensure public transportion and not after - I mean, really, if you're not leaving for work by then what kind of loser are you?), but just in time for me to hit rush hour traffic. Which has been helping me feel so much better. But it just takes me so long in the morning to get the dogs walked and fed (usually G handles them in the morning), especially since I hate to walk them in the dark, and these days, it's like noon before it gets light out. I suppose I could just wait the traffic out, but the cleaning people come around work around 4 and staying much later than that is EVEN more depressing, if that's possible. So the thought of having to wait the traffic out in the evening until about 7pm gets me in the car every morning and rushing off to work. At least until I hit the first patch of traffic and decide that shooting myself might be all right too.

Last week, though, I had my first public transportation fiasco. I finally decided to try my option #4. I know, there were too many options for y'all to pay attention to. But that was the one where I would take the train in the morning, and then do a quick bus ride to catch the train in the evening (as opposed to light rail which was off schedule wise). So anyway, I tried that last week and guess what? The bus never showed. Well, when I called they said it had showed but apparently somehow I missed it. Even though I'd been standing there for like 10 minutes and buses are kind of hard to miss. I resigned myself to catching the next light rail and waiting for the next Caltrain. EXCEPT guess what?

So in the morning, the trains run every half hour or so (there are more, but just a small handful that come as far as my neck of the woods). I just assumed that'd be the case in the afternoon also. But no, actually, the 2nd train comes an HOUR AND A HALF after the first one! WTF!! Apparently, you're not only are you a loser if you go into work after 7 am, you're also a loser if you leave before 7pm. Really, is this the work-centered society that we live in???? F'in A, no wonder my whole life seems to suck if my job sucks! So anyway, I went back to work (after sitting around waiting for the bus/light rail for half hour), and then finally decided to just take the stupid express bus all the way home. You remember, the one that had me almost vomiting after? Let me tell you, it wasn't any better the 2nd time around. Well, it was less crowded and the driver seemed more motivated to get home. But that just meant he'd be tearing ass, skipping stops, until he realized that there was some one standing there in the dark and come to a screeching halt that had me almost flying out of my seat a few times.

That actually might have been the last time I took public transportion. . . Fortunately, I've had a whole week of sitting in traffic to convince me to go back.

So I guess that's my other request . . . If anyone out there is working on some sort of teleportation device, I could use one of those too. Again, I promise, you'll immediately seen an increase in my blogging output. More than that, I'm sure you'll see me returning your phone calls and emails, and actually hanging out with folks more cuz I'll just have more energy instead of feeling drained all the time.

OH, and as long as I'm getting it all out there -- Bandit's been getting up at least 2x a night to go out to pee. Damn old dogs! G usually takes care of that chore too. So if you're interested in crashing in our spare room for a couple of days and letting the dog out, that'd be nice too. :) Come on, any takers? Anyone? Anyone? :)