Topic: I think I just broke my hand.

[Quemaqua]

Warning: this post contains excessive profanity and use of the word "fuck" and its general variations.

I came after a long, hard day of meetings.  Now, I fucking hate meetings, and I fucking hate useless meetings even more, like the ones we had today.  Four hours of this bullshit, all of which meant I could in no way get to my OWN work.  No, that just piles up in corners until I can get to it somehow.

So I get home.  I did my usual 25 minute walk back from the subway, and it's hot summer time out now, so... yeah.  I'm hot and tired by the time I get home.  First thing in the door, my wife greets me with, "I'm getting the hell out of here".  Generally what this means is our apartment is currently pissing her off.  There are a variety of reasons it might do this as it's a fucking pile of shit apartment, but lately it's tended to mean that the neighbors are playing music again.  Upon querying her, I discover the stupid little bitch who lives down there and is there all day when her parents / dad+girlfriend / random relatives / fucking mexican whoever the fuck they are are at work has been playing music for about 3 hours, apparently now so loud that Julia could actually hear all the music.  Not just the bass.  I go out into the living room, and it's still going.  Quieter, but still there and noticeable.  Also, right as I walked in I saw the chick smoking in the apartment driveway again, which she has taken to doing, and this is basically right next to our windows (though we're on the 2nd floor).  The smell comes in and fills the whole fucking apartment.  The smell of smoke has never bothered me (though it occasionally makes me want a cigarette, which sucks because I quit smoking), but Julia's highly allergic to it and whatever this chick smokes smells like crap.  Probably some cheap-ass tobacco they rubbed in chicken shit to make it taste better.

So Julia and I get into a fight about it as usual.  It's a big point of contention because she hates confrontation and can't deal with it, and she has to live here above these people like... all day, every day, because her disability has prevented her from working.  So it's all well and good for me to go shove the rental agreement in these people's fucking faces (which I did last time I yelled at the guy, whom I've talked to both times I tried to reason with them), but then she has to deal with the backlash all day.  Our walls and floors are paper thin, so you can just hear freaking everything in this dump.  It's almost like living with people.  So that's awkward for her.  I just go to work and don't have to deal with it since they haven't generally played the music loud when I'm home.  They know I'll come give them shit.  So... yeah.  Also, Julia wonders how much right we have to complain because she always second guesses her own rights in any given situation.  Which drives me up the wall.

So we take a minute to calm down, and she decides to drive to her folks.  Get out for a while, relax a little, get away from the noise.  It's a good idea.  I'd go too, but I just got home from being at work all day!  I just want to relax, enjoy myself, somehow make up for the crappy meetings I was in all day and for all the extra work I'm going to have to do tomorrow.  So she goes, I stay.  On her way out she bangs on the floor to try to get them to shut the fuck up since she knows I'm going to end up getting pissed.  I sit there for a few minutes, half-hearing the music coming from the living room area where they have their stereo (which they didn't turn down), and I just lose it.  I just completely rage out.

I go into the living room, get on my hands and knees, and just start pounding the fucking floor with my fists.  This, as you might imagine, makes a lot of noise, which is kind of the point.  About halfway through this fit of rage, which lasts maybe 20 seconds or so, around 10 of which involve the punching, and I start to wonder whether or not I might actually be damaging myself.  I'm hitting the floor *really hard*.  So I stop.  I then realize that holy crap, my hand hurts like you wouldn't believe.  I sort of stopped with both hands and switched to my right toward the end, where I got a good 7 or so slams pretty much at full force.  As in, as hard as I physically could.

I hear voices downstairs.  Something to the effect of "Jeezus, dude!  We fucking get it!" from the sound of it.  Obviously I don't speak poor inbred immigrant, so it's hard to say.  The music doesn't really go down.  The lack of an instant meeting of my demands pisses me off even further, so I hit the next step: Cryptopsy.  They're a Canadian metal band.  Click that link, then click on the song "Emaciate".  It's the first song on their Whisper Supremacy album.  I pop the aforementioned disk in, hit the first track, crank the volume up really, really loud.  If you listen to the song (and please do listen for at least a minute to get the full effect), you'll probably get the general idea of what I was trying to accomplish.

They stopped playing music.  I continued, but turned down to reasonable volume after that five minute audio skullfuck that I subjected them to.  After a while, I stop completely, only to hear that they've started again.  Turned way down now, of course, but still there.  And I'm not asking for complete silence.  I'm asking for reasonable levels.  It's reasonable now.  The problem is that they've been pissing me off so fucking much that hearing them at all now puts me into an almost homicidal rage.  If I could somehow get this guy to fight me in a cage, I would take a good few hours to first incapacitate and then slowly tear him to pieces so that I could shit on his remains.

What scares me is that this is starting to become sort of... normal.  I've always had a temper, but this is just bad.  The guy is a jerk, and so are his stupid, inconsiderate relatives/roommates/whatever, but I shouldn't be THIS pissed about it, right?  I hate my job, but even hating my job shouldn't put me THIS on edge.  I don't know what the hell to do.  I feel like I'm kind of starting to lose it.

And now my hand fucking hurts.  I didn't break it because I can still type, but touching it results in some very unpleasant sensations.  And here all I can do is think that I wish I'd broken it on that stupid fucker's face.

This can't be healthy.

[idolminds]

Damn dude, you need a vacation.

[TheOtherBelmont]

Good call on the Cryptopsy.  I'm surprised you've put up with their shit for as long as you have, use your feet to stomp on the floor next time though.  I know people who actually actually act out their anger by usually fighting someone, so your rage seems mild when compared to some people I know.  Is there a way to bring this up with the landlord though?

[Quemaqua]

I generally use my feet, yeah.  But that isn't satisfying at all.  PUNCHING... now there's a satisfying feeling.

I think Julia's going to try to talk to our manager tomorrow.  I'm just afraid of having her do it because she thinks that he hates her after the incident with the shower door, and I know she'll end up underplaying how pissed we are at the whole situation.  I'd rather talk to him myself, but all I can do is call him on the phone, and that's hard to do when I'm at work because I don't have a cell.  I have a phone at my desk, but I hate airing my dirty laundry where everybody can hear it.  I hate it when they do it and don't want to be a hypocrite.  Maybe I can just borrow Julia's cell and do it or something.

[Antares]

Fuck talking to the manager.  Call the police and make a noise complaint.  If they come out and can hear the music from the outside, they'll more than likely get a noise violation.  I'm not sure about CA, but in CO if you get more than 3 you get evicted.  You've gone beyond reasonable means to get them to shut up without involving anyone else, but at this point, I say screw it.


Not to be a debbie downer, but just because you can type doesn't mean that your hand isn't broken.  Is it swolen anywhere?

[Quemaqua]

The problem is that our place just has super thin walls.  The music isn't *that* loud.  I went into their fucking apartment one of the times I talked to them.  So you can't hear it outside, you can just hear it through our fucking floor.  *That's* the problem.  They just need to stop playing music.  Get some fucking headphones or something.  I really don't care if I'm infringing on their lives at this point.  I just want them to shut the hell up.  I don't care if they have to suffer for that to happen.  You know?  I live here and I don't make waves.  I don't listen to a stereo because I know it's loud and people can hear it.  So I just don't.

[nickclone]

I'm pretty calm and laid back myself, but the neighbors on both sides of me blast their music when they play it. One time it was so bad I could actually hear it over my headphones and the tv in my room. The people on the other side are Spanish and blast that weird Spanish polka music, I woke up thinking the carnival was in town or something.

[Cobra951]

The problem is that our place just has super thin walls.  The music isn't *that* loud.  I went into their fucking apartment one of the times I talked to them.  So you can't hear it outside, you can just hear it through our fucking floor.  *That's* the problem.  They just need to stop playing music.

Yes, that's it.  A lot of apartment buildings have zero sound insulation between units.  It shouldn't be allowed, meaning there should be something in the building code about reasonable sound insulation.  I've lived (briefly) in places where you could hear normal conversations next door.  So anyone could just as easily have listened to mine.  I dread the prospect of returning to apartment life.

[Quemaqua]

I want to rent a house so bad I can't even tell you, but we just can't afford it.  There's just no way.

[Ghandi]

Damn. You should consider taking up pot. Whenever I get really angry I just smoke joint and relax. It works well.

[Quemaqua]

Pssh, I can't afford pot.  A friend of mine smokes a good bit, and I've partaken on an occasion or two, but I can't see myself doing that regularly.  I barely even drink anymore, and I stopped smoking cigarettes.

EDIT - Interesting twist on this story.  Julia got ahold of our apartment manager to complain, and she said he sounded really agitated and pissed off.  When she mentioned that I'd already talked to the people a few times he seemed very annoyed at that, and said we should have gone to him first.  Which makes no sense, because landlords and apartment managers *never* want to be informed of anything that isn't totally necessary.  If you can deal with it they almost always prefer that you do.  So... we don't know what the deal is.  Julia also said that she heard him yelling at somebody over by the side of the building after that, and didn't know if it was related to our situation... but then we heard music again briefly that night.  So I have no fucking idea what's happening.  I just know he said he'd take care of it, so if it doesn't get taken care of, I'm going to talk to him myself.