Last night I managed to get home and drop into bed by 8, no small feat and a complete necessity if I was going to make it through another 24 hours without getting fired or physically harming someone.

Lay down, turn the TV on (timer set), close my eyes, listen to the fan whirring and I hear it. *Thump* *thump* *badump bump* *thump*.

I’ve gone through this before, and instead of doing anything about it, I just called friends to bitch and complain then cried myself to sleep in utter and overwhelming frustration. I’m so not down with confrontation.

Last night I must have been channeling my 80’s roots with the full Pat Benetar vibe ala the Legend of Billie Jean. “We’ve got the right to be angry…stand up and face the enemy”. Maybe I’ll cut my hair off to really show him I mean business. Oh, wait, that’s done. Ok, I guess I’m ready.

I walked over, used my key to access their hallway, walked up the stairs and knocked on the door.

~breathe~

In the end I had a nice conversation with “J” who was concerned about my health as his pals took photos and bong hits behind him. He wasn’t going to “go all library” but he’d turn it down. That’s all I needed.

As I walked back across the parking lot feeling relieved and hopeful, I heard him through the open window of his living room explaining to his visitors “nah, that’s my homegirl, I’ll take care of her, it’s cool”. On those grounds alone I’ll forgive the fact that I can still hear the thumping — of course it could also just be the raging zit on my temple.

Either you look at it, it’s evolution.

Identify what you want and ask for it. You might just get what you want, but then maybe that’s what terrifies me the most.

Either way, GO ME!

Kissy boo!