dixiblog

Well, I sorta had another run-in with Bubba Reneck. Kind of. From the Crazy Cat Lady incident.

Now, bear in mind I don’t really know this guy. He comes visits my neighbor, the loud, obnoxious asshole a couple of doors down. I’m not really afraid of Asshole Neighbor, but he’s not exactly Head Choirboy, either. One of his regular visitors arrives in a Community Corrections Car, for example. (Doncha just love neighbors who have PO’s? Geez louise.) And some of his friends look like they came straight from meeting their own parole officers, yeah.

Well, I’ve figured out I’ve had exactly three interactions with this visiting fuckhead.

1. I was taking a picture of some clouds, one of which sometimes shows as a banner on this blog. This picture, shown at right, matter of fact. Asshole neighbor and Bubba Redneck comes out while I’m doing it. I hightail it back inside, not really wanting to be watched and/or deal with the retarded musings of a couple of beer-guzzling idiots on my artistic pursuits. I hear them talking about me and quickly erase it from my world because I don’t want to think about it. Fuck them.

2. The CCL incident, already discussed. I was watering my flowers and not paying attention to them until it was obvious they were talking about me. As I’ve said before, I don’t really mind the name. I think it’s funny. But the threats to shoot me with a BB gun were totally uncool and rude as holy Hell.

3. The other day. Jerkoff Bubba comes over to visit Asshole neighbor, but the whole time–walking up to the gate, knocking on the door, waiting for it to be answered, he has his head turned exactly 90 degrees to be facing me directly, glaring at me with the meanest look I can recall ever seeing. 

What the fuck? I was minding my own business, again just watering my flowers. That’s it. I said nothing to him. Did nothing to him. Didn’t so much as look at him crossways. I barely glanced up…until I noticed he was giving me the most evil glare he could likely muster, what with his limited emotional capacity and all.

Now, it was clear he meant to freak me out. But you know what? He did. Not because I’m a timid, freaky, confused, insane catlady. But because there is this big dick who outweighs me by 75 pounds and is a head taller than me looking at me like he’d like to dismember me.

I am a woman. And while I’m not a woman who is particularly afraid of others, it’s a fuckin’ reality that women have to be aware of their surroundings and the intent of others. Especially big men. It’s a reality of being physically weaker than most men.

So then and there, I got a mental image of what it would feel like if he tried to physically attack me, rape me, hit me, hurt me.  I could see it in my head, you know? I felt that energy. I heard what he’d say and felt him in my head, and wouldn’t be surprised if that’s exactly what he was visualizing himself. It was just a clear fucking picture. He was projecting ill intent, I would assume, just for the satisfaction of trying to upset someone else. Because it’s not like I’ve ever done anything to him.

I thought for just a second about what I should do if he rushed me. (I’d probably get one good kick to his balls, right? Maybe that Tae Kwan Do class would come in handy…roundhouse to the babymaker, save the world from your offspring, motherfucker.)

I turned off the water and went inside quickly as possible. I was disoriented for a minute. It took me a while to figure out he was the same guy who had threatened me with a BB gun before. And I’m sure the Bully Fuckhead got himself a good chuckle out of it. Probably got a few guffaws over his Meister Brau or something.

And when I started to put it all together, I got mad. Madder and madder about it. I was pissed I hadn’t said anything. Maybe if I had stood up to him, he would quit? Mad I felt intimidated by him. Mad because I don’t do anything to hurt anybody, and therefore don’t deserve his shitty energy. Mad that I couldn’t stand in front of my own fucking home, and water my own fucking flowers, without being harrassed and intimidated. Mad that this fuckhead got his jollies off of my emotional energy.

Just goddamned mad.

I talked to Chip about it. I wanted to stand up next time–like maybe a neanderthal would respect that and leave me alone. He advised against it. (Well, specifically, he said, “No.” I guess that’s advice.) He said that people like that sometimes want to up the ante and outdo you. So maybe next time it would be slit tires on my car or worse. Better to stay the fuck away and remember there is a police station a block from our house in case there is trouble. It’s not that I think he’s gonna do something. I don’t, really, although I don’t know. But it is painfully fucking obvious he doesn’t have the same standards of behavior I do.

And I was mad on the way to the psychic fair a couple of days later. (Those two things don’t go together: mad and psychic fair.) Mad when I tried to go to sleep that night. (But on the plus side, I got a clean house outta the latenight mad.) And I just kept thinking about it, a lot more than I want to. Imagining telling him off. Imagining telling Assshole Neighbor off, or at least telling him to keep his friend on a leash. Imagining complaining to the landlord, or the police, or a number of other people who collectively wouldn’t give half a shit in hell that this guy bullied me.

Today, I was trying to be more Zen. Like maybe I need to learn something from the incident. Learn to block that kind of energy and not be thrown off by it. Because I don’t want to be receptive to his ugliness, you know? I mean, he has it. I can’t control it. But I don’t want to feel it disorient me again. I don’t want to see his images in my head. (And I do think they came directly from him. I don’t routinely imagine that kind of stuff.) So maybe next time, I’ll be stronger and can ignore him or avoid his energy wave or whatever. Maybe I’ll pretend like I don’t see him and just go inside. Maybe…I dunno.

Fucking lowlife bully.