Don't know where to turn

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I think I've told everybody that I'm changing my life. It's almost a year now that I live in this "paradise" where it will be easy to make friends and activities are in the building. I went to my first big deal dinner - Corn Beef & Cabbage - it was harrowing!

I had lent my copper bracelet to the Queen Bee and to her surprise it worked. So when I asked to sit at her table (I still don't have any friends!) she said yes. And she said I can wear a caftan if I liked so I did.

What I didn't know was that Queen Bee's table has orphans. I sat at the bottom of the table with a demented man and his brother. I don't mind that part. I mind being the only one that didn't know that we have fear of fire. So, when the power went and they brought trays of votive candles (catered) - I should have gone along with the others shouting "No candles!" But I stuck with the demented guy so they gave us a candle.

Then they dragged in a piano and Evil Witch (I have made an enemy) played Irish songs and requests. Singing along was great. The guy next to me called out requests non-stop - Silent Night, for example. The Evil Witch turned on him and yelled at him at length that he should shut up. I thought that was horrific and the guy kind of shrivelled and leaned on his brother. Then he reached, slow and steady, for the votive candle. The others started yelling, "Blow it out!" Half-heartedly, I tried. But it was the way he moved that told me, for the first time, that he was demented. The only way he got to be at that dinner was that Queen Bee vouched for him. Then I understood that even he didn't know what he was going to do with the fire, but getting even was in there.

I don't know why they don't do something about Wicked Witch. She did the same to me. Another time and place.

His brother would not blow the candle out and neither would I, seeing that as siding with Wicked Witch. The brother got him to put the candle back on the table but not too far away. Then the serving lady came and asked if he would like another piece of cake. He said yes and she brought one to him and only him. He ate it and seemed mollified.

Then I realized that this is Management's way of dealing with trouble on the spot. See, when Wicked Witch stabbed me in the back I sent an e-mail and the janitor's wife came to my door with a large size frozen pizza, which she claimed had cost her 88 cents and she said she bought 100 and wanted me to have one, since I had given her a scarf I didn't want.

So this is the sign from on high - we heard you - we'll deal with it. Eat.

We're obedient here, you see. It took me a long time to twig to that. In any other apt bldg, the Wicked Witch would have been boo'd down.

As I left, she was at the door, and I told her the singing was lovely and thanked her. She ducked and ran away. WTF?

I am paying a fortune to live here. Oh, and they just closed the pool (my refuge) to install more bars.

Anyway, I've been sleeping since the dinner - 3 days. Can't come around.

But I know I must appear in one of the spontaneous(?) chat groups in the lobby so I got myself down there and had a dreadful time for 15 minutes and came back and went to bed. The people who work here smile merrily and wave at me, to encourage this loathsome behaviour.

Does this make sense to anybody? Is there a rule book anywhere? I would really like some help with this.

Feeling steadier. At 1am, I went to the 5th floor library, where the real me can surface. I wallowed in the wall-to-wall books, sat in one of the very rich leather chairs and tried out about a dozen books. On the table between the chairs lay copies of The New Yorker etc. And the real me took up residence again in my consciousness and I am much soothed.

Books I came back with: Bleak House by Dickens, V.S. Naipaul, and Yann Martel. I started Dickens and I am restored to my rightful place in creation. What a relief.

I'll still have to pursue that jolly-olly social crap. They really, really want to see me in the lobby with everybody else. So I'll try? My shower doesn't work, I mean the water runs hot-cold too much, maybe I'll ask them to fix it.

Thank you for reading or trying to, if you did.

Mingling with queen bee, is creating unsafe, don't do that again
offering copper to the queen, when the pool's already ditched?
you'll have to prove your self destruction-progress daily

powerhouse messaging
-stop writing now
bulldozers on the lawn already
it's just words héhé-

Who are you and what do you want?

Bleak House is one of the great works of literature of Victorian days.

The title Bleak House stopped me all these years. It turns out to be funny.

One aspect of Bleak House was that it was a satire on how long the legal process took in England during early Victorian days.

In a long and unsuccessful recovery from spinal surgery, I moved into a Catholic retirement community. OMG, what a culture shock. If this building isn't the right feel for you, you can always try another. On the other hand - there was a lot to chuckle about in that cloistered, unreal environment. Fortunately, my spouse rescued me and we now live elsewhere.

I can't even imagine what it would be like to live in a group house.

Just wanted to let you know that you write beautifully.


"Feeling steadier. At 1am, I went to the 5th floor library, where the real me can surface. I wallowed in the wall-to-wall books, sat in one of the very rich leather chairs and tried out about a dozen books. On the table between the chairs lay copies of The New Yorker etc. And the real me took up residence again in my consciousness and I am much soothed."

This Thank you!