Post by caressa on Aug 2, 2009 2:00:53 GMT -5
Just sitting here at my computer listening to the sounds outside of my apartment. I live a block from what is termed as "Hess Village" and is the 'In Spot' where young people go to party. The streets are paved with brick and there are flowers and tables and chairs out on patios.
How the sound travels, and it seems like they are just standing out in front of my building. He here women crying, men being abusive and controlling, women either rebelling or passively going along because she is afraid he won't love her any more and all the game playing, the ego, the bravado, the machos, all out to impress, all looking for love and acceptance, validation and affirmation and all linking out instead of in for their self-worth and self-esteem.
So many nights I hear the remember whens, remembering when I acted out in my disease and all my codependent behaviors. Fights breaking out, arguments and descent ion between friends, alcohol taking away all their values and integrity, and leaving them with what is termed as 'fun' and for the most part sounds like a living hell. It is often easy to remember the good times. I must remember to play the tape all the way to the end and remember what happened after those good times and where those good times led me.
Just as I am writing this, sirens are arriving. They sure carry a message to me. It isn't any better out there. Things haven't changed, in fact they are far worse. There is little respect, manners and courtesy to their fellow man. I must be getting old because I have trouble with the noise.
The one good thing is when the jazz festival is on. Music when I can hear it over the yelling and screaming is often good as long as I don't want to listen to my TV. Often I have to shut my windows and doors to block out the sound of that outside world.
Don't want to go back there. Even if I was more mobile and could dance the night away, I don't want to be a part of that scene.
hessvillage.com/cgi-bin/barsearch.pl
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hess_Street_(Hamilton,_Ontario)
Thanks for letting me share.
How the sound travels, and it seems like they are just standing out in front of my building. He here women crying, men being abusive and controlling, women either rebelling or passively going along because she is afraid he won't love her any more and all the game playing, the ego, the bravado, the machos, all out to impress, all looking for love and acceptance, validation and affirmation and all linking out instead of in for their self-worth and self-esteem.
So many nights I hear the remember whens, remembering when I acted out in my disease and all my codependent behaviors. Fights breaking out, arguments and descent ion between friends, alcohol taking away all their values and integrity, and leaving them with what is termed as 'fun' and for the most part sounds like a living hell. It is often easy to remember the good times. I must remember to play the tape all the way to the end and remember what happened after those good times and where those good times led me.
Just as I am writing this, sirens are arriving. They sure carry a message to me. It isn't any better out there. Things haven't changed, in fact they are far worse. There is little respect, manners and courtesy to their fellow man. I must be getting old because I have trouble with the noise.
The one good thing is when the jazz festival is on. Music when I can hear it over the yelling and screaming is often good as long as I don't want to listen to my TV. Often I have to shut my windows and doors to block out the sound of that outside world.
Don't want to go back there. Even if I was more mobile and could dance the night away, I don't want to be a part of that scene.
hessvillage.com/cgi-bin/barsearch.pl
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hess_Street_(Hamilton,_Ontario)
Thanks for letting me share.
. I will be back looking for Lin and others.