Loud Music at 3AM & A Glimpse Into the Ego

Hit play on the video above–then start reading my post! This is one of my ABSOLUTE favorite songs in the world!! There are days, I’ll be in my studio–and I’ll put this song on repeat and play it over and over until I almost drive myself crazy (but at a reasonable hour)!! The video is pretty cool too–the singer is a hotty! But it’s the song…I love it…just love it!

I want to share something that has happened here at the ol’ abode in the desert. I share this purely as a little study into human nature.

Last week–Thursday night, I woke up suddenly at around 2:30AM because my neighbor above my bedroom was pounding profusely on the floor–a.k.a. my ceiling. I realized instantly that they were pounding because they thought it was us blasting the Lynard Skynard greatest hits like it was nobody’s business!!!! But instead, the Freebird and Sweet Home Alabama was coming from the neighbor next to my bedroom. (Oh the perks of communal living!) Now, I should add–I have a childhood and my twenties living in a very urban neighborhood to thank for my ability to sleep through loud music and screaming voices! But the pounding is another thing….it scares me…it’s violent….its was an act directed at us….and they would not stop. Literally, this pounding went on for about twenty minutes till I pounded back and yelled through the vents that the music was not us.

Ok, I’m not a confrontational person. I don’t go on screaming rampages, or indulge in road rage ever. But, I am not afraid to confront a person reasonably and kindly if necessary. Hansel–his idea was to call the police or the emergency number to the complex office. I didn’t have time to spare–by now we’re talking around 3AM–and I had two more hours till I wake to begin my Yoga practice and my day.

So, pajamas, messy hair, and all I walked over to my Lynard Skynard loving, 62 year old, disabled, single woman-no children, neighbor and kindly and as sweet as a ripe mango asked her to turn down the music–because I was getting tired of hearing my upstairs neighbors pounding on the floor–and seriously, it was already after 3 and it was so loud that my windows were rattling. The poor thing exclaimed that she was sooooo sorry–that she was cleaning her apartment (?!?!?!?!) and got carried away and didn’t realize what time it was. She promised me it would never happen again. I told her I understood (?!?!?! cleaning at 3AM?!?!?!) and that it is all good. I left with a “good night” and a smile. Off to bed I went!

The next morning, when I left for work, my neighbor left a note on both my door and my upstairs River Dance neighbor’s door. It said how absolutely sorry she was, she swore it would never happen again, she was so embarrassed, could we please forgive her, and she asked God to bless us. She signed her name with a heart–and all in the world was good.

At least I thought.

That night–around 9:00 my neighbor shows up at my door with the upstairs neighbor, and the neighbor that lives across from me about ten feet across a lawn and behind an olive tree. My rockin’ neighbor tried to tell me that the music was not very loud last night–and there is no way that I could have heard it because there is a fire wall in between our homes. She went on further to say that it was impossible that the windows were rattling because the bass was on such-&-such level. Then, the upstairs neighbor chimed in to say that she was never pounding on the floor–but instead was pounding on the wall next to hers because the “young kids that moved in” were blasting their music–NOT the rockin’ lady. Then, the neighbor who lives ten feet away across the lawn and behind a huge olive tree was there to state she didn’t hear a thing either.

Ok. Are you with me? Does this seem Bizarro to you?

I stood there for a minute. I took in all their information. And for a second, I was wondering if this was what it felt like when one starts to go crazy. So, then I simply said, as kind as possible: “But rockin’ neighbor, you wrote me a letter this morning apologizing for the loud music and promised to never do it again. And upstairs neighbor, the apartment next to you is vacant. Nobody lives there.” (I didn’t even acknowledge ol’ olive tree neighbor–because that was so bizarro in itself.)

So, rockin’ neighbor replied with “Yeah, my ex-husband said I should have never wrote that letter. That that wasn’t a good idea.”

“Ok,” I said. “Rockin’ neighbor–what do you want? Why are you here?”

That’s when she began to cry and said “Plleeeease don’t go and tell the office about this. Please don’t say a word.”

“But Rockin neighbor—I’m not going to the office. You turned your music off, it was all good, you wrote a note, life moved on. You need to let go.”

At this point–the two other neighbors left. Rockin neighbor stood there crying in my doorway. What could I do but hug her. She started saying how she was 62 and divorced and handicap and she was so sorry she never does such a thing like play such loud music, and she feels so bad…and please don’t go to the office.

I tried to reassure her that I wasn’t going to the office. I hugged her again. And all is finally well.

But…isn’t it interesting how this whole thing was handled? Rockin’ neighbor, for whatever reason, was terrified that I was going to report this to the office. So–she somehow creates a story of what she wants others to believe—she then goes and recruits others to back up her story–and even change their story (for some reason) to match hers. Then–they confronted me like soldiers in battle. They were pretty bully like in their approach–I didn’t go into all of it.

Except–I had the truth behind me. And that’s what I kept expressing. I just simply said–the music was loud, you even said so last night and in your letter this morning, the neighbors upstairs agreed by pounding our floor–not the vacant apartment next to them–and that is what made me go at 3AM in my pajamas to your home–not ever knowing you before this-to ask you to turn the music off. “That’s the facts” I said—“I wasn’t making anything up just to knock on your door at 3AM.”

But they wanted to argue with me..until I finally said “what do you want.”

Huh. That’s when the soldiers dispersed and the waterworks came, and all the cards were thrown on the table.

But don’t you find this whole thing interesting? Manipulation at its finest. Ego at its strongest. Poor rockin’ neighbor–all she wanted was to be sure that I wasn’t telling the office, and instead of talking things out reasonably–she planned an attack based on nothing.

Does this sound a bit like our invasion to Iraq years ago with ol’ Bush boy?!?!!

Didn’t NATO state that there were no weapons of mass destruction? Wasn’t there a note on someone’s door in the morning…oh, I mean official documents stating the facts?

Christine over at Bliss Chick wrote a great post today too about how the little sparks of anger we express—are the same sparks that fuel the fire of much larger things like war and genocide. That’s exactly what I thought when this whole thing was going on. How, if I had not chosen to not participate in the war her ego was preparing, who knows where all of this could have lead.

And it all comes down to is fear.

Think about it.

Peace & Love.

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