Noli Me Tangere

H2O

I'd like to announce that I've found a cure for common blogger's block: the Atlanta Water Services Division. They are guaranteed to clear it up in no time, which is nice because their other services pretty much suck.

You see, the city of Atlanta contends that in October 2004, we used no water. The meter reading was "0". Then, thanks to an ambitious shower schedule, we were able to make up for that in November by using OVER $800 OF WATER. It was a tremendous achievement on our part to use that much water in a single month. Just a remarkable recovery, really.

Sometime yesterday our water was shut off for not paying this bill in full. Within an hour, a notice arrived in the mail informing us of the impending disconnect. Gee, thanks but this information might've been more useful to me YESTERDAY.

A call was placed immediately and the recording said, "Your call is very important to us and will be answered as soon as possible. Your wait time is: 9 minutes." Forty-five minutes later, my wait time had dwindled all the way down to: 9 minutes. So I hung up and called back, which was a big mistake, as I only got busy signals from then on. I called some other numbers at the water dept:

Abe: I need to see about getting my service reconnected.
Customer Disservice: You have to call 658-6500 for Atlanta Water.
Abe: I did, about 80 times. It's busy. I think it's broken.
Customer Disservice: I'm sorry that's the only number I have for the Water dept.
Abe: Well, how should I proceed? What do you suggest I do??
Customer Disservice: You have to call 658-6500.
Abe: That doesn't work. You work for the same agency! Can't you refer me to someone??
Customer Disservice: I don't know what to tell you, sir.

I'm an easy-going guy, but my blood was boiling by the time walked through security at the Facilities building downtown. Now I understand why they have such tight security; I really wanted nothing more than to leave a massive pipe bomb in that lobby. While waiting in line I imagined them telling me they could not help me today and I would have to come back tomorrow and I would calmly inform them that no ma'am, I am not leaving until I talk to someone who can help and if they don't like that they're going to have to get that lazy, tub-of-lard security guard over there come and try to carry me away in handcuffs because otherwise I'm going to sit right here in front of you and look you in the eye until you admit that you are screwing your customers and that the ONLY reason you still have any customers at all is that they've go nowhere else to go. Also, I think your phone system is broken.

Fortunately it didn't come to that, but we still have no water, despite their promise to reconnect. We are appealing the bill, but it's not even an issue of whether or not we could have possibly used $800 worth of water in one month. It's a question of how Abe can prove to an uncaring bureaucratic entity that we did not. The answer is: he cannot prove it. That's the saddest part about this ordeal is the feeling of real powerlessness. Getting screwed is bad enough; getting screwed by someone who couldn't care less is much, much worse.

Meanwhile I will reacquaint myself with the joy of sponge-bathing.

Null

Suddenly I've lost all interest in blogging.

Lone

Last night my buddy Phil and I walked over to the new Subway and discussed the impending end of our lease. This is not something that I enjoy talking or thinking about, mostly because I dislike change, and I dislike changes of address more than anything.

But it got me thinking about my choice to live in community with other people. There are many times I wish I lived alone. I hate that I have to clean up other people's mess because I want to entertain company. I hate that I can't play loud early in the morning. I hate distractions on Friday afternoons when I'm trying to work from home.

I also know that I tend toward lone-rangerism, and it's good for me to have people literally, physically in my life (like cones in the road), because if it were up to me, I could go for a long time and not see anyone and not feel all that bad about it. And then I thought about loneliness. What is it? I think it's like syrup.

Back in high school my cronies and I were at Jimbo's Diner late one night and somebody dared me to lean my head back, open up, and have my mouth poured full of pancake syrup. Of course I agreed to it, but it didn't occur to me that when your mouth is brimming with syrup, you can't say "when". The pourer--who was either a punk or not paying attention--kept pouring until syrup ran down my neck, into my clothes, saturating my pubescent patch of chest hair. This is a bad feeling.

Loneliness is something that pervades and sticks to you, and even when you wipe it away, you know it was just there because your fingers are stuck together. Then you can try to cover the visible evidence, but the smell won't go away. It occurred to me in Subway that loneliness is a feeling more than a condition. And it exists because of--not in spite of--the people in your life. It strikes hardest when you are with others, but not really with them. I can't speak for everyone, but I'd much rather be alone than lonely. (I'm curious to hear your thoughts on this.)

I'm sitting alone, with the other students in the computer lab as I write this on my 29th birthday. I'll drive home alone, with the other commuters. And most of my birthday will be spent, by necessity, in solitary pursuits like practice, homework, and research. But there's another group of people I that won't be with today who keep me from being lonely. You know who you are. I can do without the faces in the lab, or passing by on the sidewalk or interstate, but I'm grateful for those people that I can be with without being with.

I love you, Betty Sue

People laughed at me when I bought a Subaru station wagon. They weren't laughing Saturday when I was the only one able to climb out of my driveway. I swear she runs better in weather like this. She's like a husky released into a snowfield after being cooped up all summer. There's a little extra purr, a certain vroom that wasn't there before, as if she knows that she was made for this.

Betty Sue, I love ye, more than preventative maintenance can say. You make me feel safe. Here's to many more miles together.