tumultuous few days.. forgive me for not writing, but.. hmm, how about i tell you about monday….
monday: stage production: lotta work done, all good. got home, everything’s ok, then bam all hell breaks loose. let me explain:
princess has had both computers in his room.. why? because he can’t work in what was the office (its a long story, which verges on hippy crap ‘atmosphere’ explanations), and he’s in edit/render/edit/render mode at the moment, and needs both computers, switching back and forth, etc. so, the computers being in his room, i feel somewhat uncomfortable being in there working or just feel like being on the internet; hence, i haven’t been on much of late, just keeping it to the bare minimum. (basically, i respect the space as being his room, and feel like i’m intruding when i’m in there.) to add to that, when i’m in there, he’s usually either on the other computer, or lounging on his bed, and either babbles continuously about whatever’s on his mind, or often asks what i’m doing, who i’m talking to, what we’re talking about, and often looks up and asks what i’m looking at/reading. this generally makes me feel like i have no privacy what-so-ever. i HATE people reading over my shoulder, and it’s quite difficult to explain a 50 min conversation in 10 words.. mind you, he usually only pays attention when i giggle or make some other reactive nose to whatever’s going on.. but it annoys the fuck outta me. so, monday night, i had just logged on, started downloading mail, something came in, i opened it, and i hear:
“What’s that?”
“I don’t know yet.” (ooh, grumpy me..)
“sheesh..”
and he storms out, goes for a walk.. he eventually comes back, slumps on his bed again..
i start talking to a friend; giggle..
“Who’s that?”
“Niv”
“What’d he say?”
“Oh for gods sake.. give it a rest.”
“Jesus, you don’t have to be so bitchy.”
“Well you could fucking give me some space.”
and realising that this will only get bigger and badder, i say goodbye to Niv (sorry mate, i just had to finish this off), turn around to him, and proceed to lose my temper completely..
“Look, I realise and accept that you have to have the computers in here, but could you stop reading over my goddamn shoulder, and demanding to know what I’m fucking doing every 5 seconds?”
(or something of the like.. i can’t really remember..) and get up, storm out, into my room, slam the door, art falls off the wall in the hallway, open door, re-hang art, return to room, close door carefully.
knock knock..
“What?”
“I’m sorry, but I didn’t realise you felt like I was intruding..”
“Yea well you are. I can’t do a damn thing without you wanting to know what the hell it is.”
“I’m sorry!”
“So am I. And add to that the fact that I feel like I’m intruding on your space by just being there. I’m really uncomfortable in there.”
“Well you should just tell me to fuck off when you want some privacy.”
“Seriously, how can I tell you to fuck off out of your own room?”
the conversation then proceeded on to what the hell to do about it, and we decided that we could move one of the desks from the ‘office’ (which is currently a junk room, plus two desks and a filing cabinet..) out into the front room.. the benefits of which are of follows: 1. it gets me out of his room. 2. the Ethernet cable can still reach between computers. 3. he doesn’t have to be in the ‘office’.
having found a solution to the problem at approximately 11pm at night, i thought it would be enough to say “ok, we’ve got a solution, we can set it up tomorrow”…….
no.
he had to do it NOW.. no, not just NOW. NOW.
jesus fucking christ…..
ok, so he started cleaning off some of the junk from one of the desks, basically stacking it up on the other one, while i tried to convince him that it would be better to leave it, until we sorted out ALL the junk, and had somewhere to move the couch from the front room to.. no..
“The couch can just move into the lounge for the moment.”
“No, it won’t fit, and I’ll want as much room as possible while sorting out the junk..”
no, it had to be moved NOW.
“Ok, just move it to the other side of the front room.”
“No, I’ll move it into my room.”
“WTF? Bed, two tables, bookshelf, closet, and assorted unnameable junk, you can barely move in there as it is.”
“I’ll make it fit.”
“Why are you doing this now?”
“Because I want to, you’re uncomfortable in my room, and I don’t like you feeling that way.”
“I just want to go to bed..”
“You can do that, I’ll move it all, set it up.”
and i storm off to the kitchen, get a drink…
and he starts moving the couch.
“Where are you moving that to?”
“Into YOUR room!” (knowing from the tone of his voice, he was joking..)
“Oh for gods sake, could you at least answer the fucking question?”
and i storm outside.. sit on the steps for a couple of minutes, come back..
“Where are you moving it to?”
“Just to the other side of the room.”
“Thank you.”
and he stops…
“Sorry, its just, at this stage of filmmaking, I have to give over all power of what I’m doing to the computer, and I’ve got nothing to do..”
“And so what you’re doing is making a desperate grab to take control of something, anything, so that you still feel like you’re in control.”
“Well, when you put it that way.. it seems.. petty.”
“Yea.. Well, all I’m asking is, please, do this another time. I don’t care if you set up the desk or I do.. I just want to sleep. I’m exhausted, I’m aching, and I won’t be able to sleep with you clunking around out here..”
“I just feel like doing this now. I want to fix it.”
and with that, at 11.45pm, i turned, went into my room, and went to bed..
after 10 min of him sitting in the front room, doing nothing, he went into his room, dialed up, and cruised the internet for apparently the next 3 hours..
so, today, he finished setting up the desk out here, moved the imac out here, moved the couch to the other side of the room, and all is well..
i’m surprised we’re both still alive..