The Sounds of Fucking

are all I hear right now at 11:48 p.m. on Friday night.

My upstairs neighbor is getting laid. This will make the third time in Portland that I have lived in a place with walls thin enough to hear people cough. Of course I am going to hear them fuck!

The fact that we are all staying home more due to the Corona virus doesn’t help with the privacy factor. I work from home and I am self isolating at home. Leaving only for food, weed, and the self service station at the post office.

This means I see the patterns of my neighbors lives in a way that would have not been apparent to me pre-Corona virus times.

I don’t mean to be a hater. I’m not jealous even though I can say I wouldn’t mind if it was me getting laid. I will even admit that I watch porn so clearly I don’t mind sex noises ( I like them when I chose to hear them ) ( or make them ). I just don’t want to be in the position where I can’t escape other people’s sex noises.

The first time I couldn’t escape was when I first moved to Portland, Oregon. I moved into a basement apartment. A family had turned the basement of their home into a 3 bedroom rental situation. Only one of the bedrooms had a bathroom in it. Each bedroom had its own locked door. I shared the other bathroom with the third roommate. Otherwise we shared the kitchen and the living room.

DSC06924.JPG

The roommate with the bathroom in his room turned out to be into the BDSM lifestyle. He was a Dom. He had many Submissives. At one point, I think I saw a different girl every day for 5 days in a row. He didn’t discriminate. The women came in all shapes and sizes. Gotta give him credit for that. It was just all the sex noises. How would you like to be constantly woken up in the middle of the night to loud fucking sounds?! I would yell through my wall sometimes – ” for the love of god, please just turn on some music”

I rather be woken up to music than the sounds of his fuck session. One time the other roommate and I sat outside his door at 5:00 a.m. and made loud fake sex noises of our own. That’s was fun! We laughed so hard for months. Another time, I was walking in the door from a long hard day of work, just to be met with the sounds of the Dom at it again. I yelled again for music.

I realize sex is a part of life. It is natural. It is fun. Where does the line get drawn when the walls are thin and it affects the people you live with?

Eventually I moved. Fast forward 7 years later…. I move into a studio apartment- by myself. I am excited to live alone again after not being able to do so for four years. I moved into a building with 8 apartments. I met one of the neighbors right away, a nice younger couple that have been in the building for eight years. I had not had the opportunity to meet the person who lived above me before I “heard” him. One weekend was especially bad. I couldn’t sleep because all I could hear was his music. It wasn’t obnoxious however I could sing along with the words of the song playing. If I am unable to sleep because the music is too loud, we have a problem. Second to bodily pain, nothing makes me grouchier than lack of sleep. It was about 11:30 p.m. when I started banging on the ceiling with a broom. No change made. Around 2:00 a.m. I plugged my Goal Zero external speaker into my cell phone, turned it up as loud as it would go with electronic music and placed it on the highest surface I had facing the ceiling. No change made. Normally I would have a conversation but here it was in the middle of the night, I was naked, I had been banging on the ceiling and playing loud music with no results. I was mad. I couldn’t even entertain the visual of a conversation. When the sex noises came at 5:30 a.m. I found a YouTube clip to play to let them know I could hear them – I rather hear this than the neighbor

Do you think they got the point? I can hear everything. I want you to know that I can hear everything. I really need to replace my earplugs.

I didn’t have to deal with it more than a couple months because he moved. I live in a great location therefore it didn’t take long for a new person to move in. This time I made sure to introduce myself right away. There was a gentlemen helping her move which she said was just a friend. I wanted her to know the walls are thin and if there was ever a time my music was too loud, she could give a friendly bang or text me and I would turn it down. I was wishfully thinking it would translate into her being aware ALL sounds can be heard through the walls.

Everything was going along nicely….

Until the sex noises started. FML. I wasn’t going to play the sex noises in retaliation. I didn’t want to change the dynamic of our friendly relationship. I dealt with it. It started to become more frequent and I found myself in the same situation. I rather hear music than the sounds of other people fucking. This Michael Jackson song is a great distraction – It is six minutes long, which is plenty of time for my neighbors to wrap it up. I really like it which means I get into it and can forget for a few minutes that I am bothered.

After listening to it a handful of times, I think I need to switch up the song. There could be the potential for miscommunication. Wanna be Startin Something? LOL

Do you have a suggestion for me? I need a couple go to songs. In the moment when I am scrambling, my mind can go blank and then I reach for MJ. I have mixed feeling about MJ after watching the Neverland Documentaries.

Do you think it’s rude of me to turn up music to drown out the sex noises coming from my upstairs neighbor? Is it reasonable to say that since I am the only person I can control, that I am making the necessary adjustment for my comfort?

I am not entirely sure which side of the coin I land on. I do know that I just want to get to sleep peacefully. In a nice, dark, quiet, and cold room. Where you will find me naked. Puhlease don’t mess that up for me unless you want to be drowned out with song.

Goodnight everyone.

Covert Operation = Get Nieces back

3 thousand dollars & Karma allowed for the covert operation.

Maybe you have read the other blogs about my journey, maybe you have not. This story picks up at the end of the blog that is linked above.

For those that have not, let me give you the readers digest version: I don’t have a good relationship with my biological mother. My younger sister passed away in 2003 which prompted me to connect with the abusive dysfunctional people from my past in order to attend her funeral and to meet my little nieces, whom were 3 years old and 18 months old at the time. I wanted to help raise my nieces so they moved to Austin TX where I was living in 2004. It didn’t go well and my biological mother lied and said she was going on vacation when she was secretly moving to Oregon about 1.5 years later. She then proceeded to cut me out of my nieces lives. She changed the phone number leaving me no way to contact the little girls that had become such a big part of my heart <3.

When I found out they moved, I made plans to visit. Those plans were met with resistance. I was told I had to do certain things, I wasn’t willing to do. My biological mother doesn’t get to treat me however she wants and then dictate my response to it. This is when she told me not to come. Shortly after that she changed the phone number.

I realized that if I was ever going to see them again, I would need my visit to be a surprise. I didn’t take the trip I originally planned since she had all the details and could have easily left town. This would result in me wasting $3,000.00

Covert Operation = get nieces back began to form. I bribed my boyfriend at the time to come with me with some fun plans in Portland before traveling to Salem to sit in front of their house. I decided going around Christmas time would increase the chances of me being able to find them at home.

In 2006, I got plane tickets for Portland, a rental car to drive to Salem, hotel rooms and massage appointments. I went to the local toy store and purchased Christmas presents for the girls. We stayed two days in Portland before headed off for the drama.

Portland was awesome! The size of the city reminded me of the Austin Texas I moved to the summer of 1996. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe- off to Austin TX I go. The nature scene reminded me of growing up in Colorado Springs. Portland has delicious food, cool bridges and nice people. It was becoming clear that I liked it so much that I wanted to live there. I never thought I would see the day I wanted to move from Austin because I loved living there. It’s the place I have lived the longest yet (15 years) Portland was pretty awesome though and I seriously started to think about moving. I would need to finish college first.

After two days in Portland, we drove to Salem, checked into the hotel and went to sit in front of my nieces house. It was completely nerve wracking. The anxiety built with every passing moment. At some point my boyfriend mentioned he was hungry. I didn’t want to leave because Murphy’s Law says the moment I leave is the moment they come home and I didn’t want to miss them. He ended up convincing me to get some fast food for him. We weren’t gone long. When we returned, the lights in the house were on. I knew it! I missed my moment! I was pissed at my BF and pissed at myself for agreeing to leave. Now we have to go to the door. This gives my biological mother more of an advantage.

We crept up to the door and couldn’t really see through the oval circle made of frosted glass that was in the middle of the wood door. I could hear them though. I tried to wait until I heard the girls voices closer towards the front of the house however it was proving impossible. I knocked on the door and she told the girls to go to their rooms because she thought I was going to be someone else that was showing up with something for the girls for Christmas. When she answered the door, it took her a minute to register what was happening. I saw her face change when it clicked. I shoved my foot in the door so she couldn’t close it on me and I started yelling my nieces names. I didn’t overcome the year of sadness and come all this way not to be successful. She let me in…

At first it was very awkward. It took an hour or so for the girls to remember who I was. There weren’t any pictures of me around. I’m 100% sure she didn’t talk about me or say nice things about me or remind them of the good times we had and how much I loved them. She asked if I was there to take them away? My answer was – I’m not you.

I had a hotel down the street and I wanted the girls to come and stay with me. I’m surprised she agreed. I got to spend all the days I was there with them. We went out to eat and had a couple sleepover nights. I couldn’t have been more happy. I got them back!!!!!

After a week, it was time to return home to Austin. I invited each of my nieces to come for 1 week during the summer. The littlest one was too scared to fly so the older one asked if she could have her sister’s week and come for 2 weeks. OF COURSE. It almost didn’t happen because she was very scared to get on the plane. Thankfully a nice couple saw this little girl crying and offered to accompany her during the flight. Words could not express the disappointment I felt at the thought of her not being able to board the plane. I am so proud of her for conquering her fear and making it all the way to Texas. We had a blast. Lots of swimming. Reuniting with old friends. She lost a tooth. She celebrated her 8th birthday while there- We went at Schlitterbahn with friends. Our relationship was back on track. I love her more than I love anyone in the world.

I spent the next 2 years flying to Portland for visits. As my nieces got older, I knew that they needed me to be closer. I wanted to be a bigger part in their lives. I was putting myself through college part-time which would take 10 years to complete. I graduated the summer of 2010 and by the end of December, I moved to Dallas OR, where they lived.

#first tattoo

Growing up I thought about getting a tattoo all the time however I don’t have a high tolerance for pain so I never did it . Then one day I found myself with a pain so deep in my heart that the pain of the tattoo needle wouldn’t come close to matching it. Suddenly I was ready to sit in the chair.

33707_1615369185554_1276061041_1693098_6736021_n

In May of 2006, I would sit for 3.5 hours straight to get my first tattoo. The artist was heavy handed and I cried for several hours while getting it. Not a heavy ugly cry. The kind of cry where the tears well up in your eyes and roll down your face. Technically he wasn’t the artist I originally wanted/talked to. He was just another artist, in the same shop, that was available on the day I desired. There wasn’t enough time to correct the communication mistake with my top choice artist. The day was super important to me because it marked one year since I had seen/spoken to my nieces. I was heartbroken.

The names of my nieces, along with specific symbols, make up the design of the tattoo. The colors and style were inspired by Henna. Henna has been around for centuries and comes with a positive connotation. One of the reasons I like it is because it doesn’t contain any black. That seems to be rare for a tattoo.

It all started when I got the news my younger sister was going to die. I put school & two jobs on pause and got on a plane to face my dysfunctional past. I had not seen or spoken to my biological mother for close to six years. It was a family friend that called me on that random Tuesday morning at 7:30 a.m. to inform me about my sister. My sister was only 21 years old. She would be leaving behind two little girls, ages 3 and 18 months, whom I hadn’t met yet.

I almost met the eldest one (once) when my sister took a road trip with her boyfriend at the time from Las Vegas to come and see me in Austin TX. They would get two speeding tickets along the way. This would cause them to turn around and head back, not ever making it to Texas.

Attending the funeral would force me to see people that were abusive to me in the past. The “past” being the most important word here. I worked hard to rise above where I came from. When contemplating how I was going to get through these challenging times, I realized that I was an adult. I realized that I hadn’t seen or spoken to any of them in years. I was busy putting myself through college, working, and all around taking care of myself. There wasn’t anything they could do to me now. Their opinions certainly didn’t matter to me. These facts gave me the courage to go. I went to Las Vegas because I wanted to meet my nieces and say goodbye to my sister. I knew I would regret it if I didn’t.

There would be a few things I would need in order to go. I got back in touch with my therapist – she agreed to be on speed dial for me. I am eternally grateful to her for this. I also needed a back-up plan on a place to stay. The first roommate I ever had in life married her Air Force boyfriend and was currently stationed in Las Vegas. She graciously agreed to be my backup plan if things took a downturn while I was there. I am eternally grateful to her for this.

20190711_214659.jpg

My sister died within 24 hours of my being there. I was the only one in the family that stepped up to say I wanted to help raise the girls. I wasn’t going to move to Las Vegas to do it though. I had been living in Austin for about 7 years , I was years deep into college and working hard to do it. I didn’t want to live in a state where prostitution was legal. Sin City is fun to visit but not to live.

I could help if they moved to Austin. At the time, my close friend was the manager of the apartment complex I was living at. She would make sure that they would have a place to stay. They moved a few months later.

It didn’t take long for the estranged relationship with my biological mother to turn tense. I even tried family therapy however she was unwilling to talk about the past. She has never offered an apology and my therapist didn’t think she ever would. Without one , there can be no forward progress for me. Correction – I can move on without her. It’s better this way.

They managed to live in Austin for about a little over a year before she would lie to me and tell me they were going on vacation when secretly she was planning to move to Oregon. She didn’t give many details and I didn’t ask for them since I didn’t want to engage with her.

Time passed and it was getting to be towards the end of the week of their vacation. I hadn’t heard from her and she didn’t return my phone call. I started to wonder about the details of their return. Did they need a ride from the airport? Were they getting in late? When would I be able to spend time with my nieces next?

I was having dinner with my boyfriend at a restaurant close to their apartment, so we decided to drive by their place after dinner. To my shock, horror and dismay, after peeking through the blinds, I found an empty apartment. I immediately cried in an inconsolable way and threw up my dinner.

I called her one more time to inform her that if I didn’t hear from her by the end of the next day that I would go to the police department and file missing persons reports on all 3 of them. As far as I was concerned, my family went on vacation and I haven’t heard from anybody since. I was getting very worried. She returned my phone call only to confirm what I already knew. They were gone………

Having children taking from your life is one of the most painful things a heart can handle. I fell in love with those girls from the moment I met them. They taught me the meaning of unconditional love. I helped pick out daycare, attended school plays, went to teacher conferences. I gave up every weekend I could just so I could spend time with them. To have them come over for sleepovers, to play with them, to read to them, to cook for them, to love them. To teach them how to navigate life. To expose them to culture events that extended beyond our own so they may be respectful to all. My heart goes out to anyone who knows this pain ❤

Eventually she changed the phone number, leaving me no way to get in touch with them.

Only through the generous gesture of a new friend would I be able to make plans to travel to Oregon to get them back into my life (for a few years anyways).

Covert operation = get nieces back !!

Until then, I will carry them with me – in my heart and on my right arm. I’m over the fear of the needle now. I have gotten many tattoos since. I like the idea of two 3/4 sleeves. One can’t really predict these things- Just like how heavy handed an artist will be.

Love you mis sobrinas bonitas.