August 18, 2003

• So, I’ve figured it out. It’s a plot. One big plot to drive me past insanity- and the whole world is part of it, except maybe for Heather and a few other select individuals.
  
  I didn’t sleep well last night- if at all. And I did not wake up to a winter wonder land, much like I had hoped.
  
  Andy left today.
  
  After dropping James off at school, I got to work, and found the parking lot had been roped off with a fresh coat of blacktop. No big deal, I just parked in the guest lot across the street.
  
  I proceeded to have a somewhat obnoxiously normal day at work, when I had this feeling in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t like it. I had the impression that I needed to look at my car. I thought I was crazy. I mean, I was there in the sun watching a bunch of kids- I couldn’t just leave them to look at my car across the street. But then again, I had the distinct impression that I needed to check on my car.
  
  So, I walked over to the fence, leaned over and looked at the guest parking. There are four spaces in that particular “lot” (it doesn’t really deserve to be called a lot) There were no cars in it.
  
  I freaked, I blew my whistle and made the kids get out of the pool- grrr- it wasn’t a pretty site. I ran over to some people who came to the parking right after I started looking at it. As I got there, they began paving it. I explained my situation *sigh*
  
  They were stupid and didn’t know anything.
  
  “do you know where my car is?”
  “no”
  “did you tow my car?”
  “no”
  “did anybody tow my car?”
  “um, the management mentioned a car here.”
  “what did they say they did with the car here?”
  “I don’t think they towed it, they moved it.”
  “Where to?”
  “I dunno”
  “how do you move a car without keys?”
  “I dunno”
  “Can you tell me how to reach the management?”
  “no”
  “CAN YOU GIVE ME THE NUMBER TO CALL TO FIND OUT WHERE MY CAR IS?”
  “no”
  “CAN YOU TELL ME WHO I SHOULD CONTACT TO FIND THE CAR”
  “I think I wrote her name down somewhere, let me look for it.”
  “IS IT ANNETTE?”
  “Oh yeah, I think it might have been Annette . . .”
  
  I wanted to strangle the guy. I left Ed a message, eventually I left Annette a voicemail too. *sigh* Then I called my boss, who came over to guard while I sorted it all out. My dad called the cell . . .
  
  “Hi, your mom and I are coming to pick up the car.”
  
  “You found the car?! Great!”
  
  “What are you talking about-”
  
  “Oh, the car dissapeared and I don’t know where it is and I’m trying to . . .
  
  *click*
  
  My dad was pissed. My boss thought that it was hilarious that he hung up on me. I went again to try to reach Annette (who was on her lunch break), asking Margaret to answer my phone and try to explain to my dad the story. I figured he might listen to her.
  
  I listened to the stupid recording again, pushed 0 for operator, is Annette was back from lunch, was assured that she was back, and then was transfered to . . . voicemail. “please don’t leave more than one message; all messages will be answered withing 24 to 48 hours.”
  
  I hung up, called again, and demanded to talk to Annette in person right away.
  
  “um, well, who is this?”
  
  “I’m Dan, I’m with Pool Watch, I’m a life guard at the Old Farm Village Pool.”
  
  “let me go find her”- the pause was maybe half a second, so I guess she handed the phone across the desk. Grrrr.
  
  To make a long story short, the car had been moved down the street quite a ways . . . I swear someone’s out to get me.
  
  Later today I got to watch Heather’s end of band camp performance. I enjoyed spending time with her- only on my way home, I slammed the car door on my finger. I told you it’s out to get me.
  
  Oh- and my final self portrait. It’s scaring me. It changes it’s expression- I swear, it’s really freaky. It looks at me in different ways at different times . . .
  
  Time to go to bed . . . listening to my music. It’s definately a Simple Plan night, perhaps with a little Linkin Park from last night:
  
  “What I want you to want, what I want you to feel
  But it’s like no matter what I do, I can’t convince you, to just believe this is real
  So I let go, watching you, turn your back like you always do
  Face away and pretend that I’m not
  But I’m convinced you’re all that I’ve got
  
  I can’t feel the way I did before
  Don’t turn your back on me
  I won’t be ignored
  Time won’t heal this damage anymore
  Don’t turn your back on me
  I won’t be ignored
  
  I am a little bit insecure, a little unconfident
  ‘Cause you don’t understand, I do what I can, but sometimes I don’t make sense . . . “

  • 11:30 pm
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