It's very scary....

When you are minding your own damned business on a Sunday evening and a strange guy 'accidentally' keys open your door. I was actually going to leave in a few minutes to go burn off steam at the gym. Now I've got a bleeding fucking headache and wondering whether or not this character has keyed open my door before. "Oops, I thought this was my apartment!"

Why in the hell would all the locks to the doors on this floor be manufactured EXACTLY the same? This man lives down the hall from me, in fact, he's hit on me before, unfortunately. He lives with what I presume to be his girlfriend and her pair of rascals. Now I know most if not all of the apartments on this floor are one bedrooms, so how they fit themselves in their I don't know, nor do I care to comprehend at the moment. I immediately called the maintenance office in order to solve this problem, and the gentleman came with a new lock in less than an hour. Whilst waiting, I decided to fore go the early evening aerobics and stick to crunches and free weights in my living room. I was so nervous and tense I didn't know what to do, but I damn sure wasn't leaving after that! After the maintenance man changed the lock and left, I was struck with terrible headache, brought on by the stress of the situation and what was more or less hunger. I was so jarred I probably burned up the same amount of calories I would have on the treadmill. Sheeez.

This is one of those times in my life where I do my art as a relief. That is simply the purpose it has served in my life. A relief from stress, a cleansing, a sort of catharsis if you will. I was actually going to try write in a more poetic or prose like fashion in regards to this BULLSHIT, but it seems I've already racked more than enough nerve cells for the day. I'm usually one to try to keep a tight rein on my emotions, at least in how I display myself to people. To be honest, I've been seething for the past 3-4 hours since it all started today. Sometimes I'm darkly humorous about my intensity and due to being what I guess one could call a dabbling astrologer, I sometimes chalk it up to too many planets in Aquarius and Scorpio.

This weird motherfucker that opened my door has hit on me before, quite possibly knocked on my door late at night (along with another annoying ass young fool who was doubly persistent), and likes to give me the eye and smile when I see him with his young girlfriend. I don't know if he's her "baby daddy" or what, but he's obviously in his damned 30's or 40's and she doesn't look a day over 21. Not that I have anything against older men and dating, but I am not interested in this freak. He creeps me the fuck out. When I heard my door mysteriously opening, I got up off my living couch and went to hall in front of the door, with what I hope was a low growl, "Excuse Me?" The look on his face seemed to be one of someone that was in the middle of a devious act, not what I would call innocent. I've seen many faces, and there is a BIG difference between accidental transgression and caught with one's hands in the cookie jar.

A number of things have been running through my head (you can thank my paranoid and investigative Scorpio planets).

1. This guy had a key that unlocked MY door. How do I know if this is first time this has actually happened?

2. His expression just seemed a bit off, like he wasn't expecting me there. In my opinion, he should have been really shocked to find out that it wasn't his apartment, but he wasn't.

3. He has expressed an interest in me before, as I stated above, even though he is involved with a woman of whose presence I'm fully aware.

4. His mannerisms in general just give me the fucking willies. I will more than likely address this in the future in another post, because something just tells me that this won't be the last time I have to deal with this man.

5. Sometimes it really doesn't pay to be a good Samaritan. Once again, I'll address this later.

6. Might it be time to move?

7. It could all just be a really minor thing and I could be letting worries get the best of me. Yet then again, I don't live in the fanciest of apartment buildings.