The Reserve @ Ridgewood

This is a narration of an experience I had with this residential complex: The Reserve at Ridgewood, Sandy Springs, GA. It is not a short version. I wrote it because I had promised myself to do it.

There are three girls working here named and their manager. I traveled from another state to Georgia for a week to find a home as I was going to move in the next two weeks. So I found this complex The Reserve at Ridgewood and chose an apartment in their complex I liked the plan. It was getting ready for next available resident which was going to be me. I paid the deposit so they’ll keep it for me and went back home and did all the payments and opening account for gas and electricity so that they would provide me the apartment key.

On Saturday noon I sent a friend to get the keys for me as I was going to be late and their office would be closed after 4 or 5 pm. I arrived at 10 pm and got the key from my friend in their fancy basket of welcome package. I went into the apartment and found all the carpet everywhere throughout the apartment completely soaked that all my socks and even my pants bottom got totally wet. It was late at night after 13 hours’ drive that I saw this. The office was close and was going to be close the next day on Sunday too. They had not even left the AC on and it felt like a tropical wetland in there. Both I and my wife were so angry and upset that just went to rest at a hotel. That was how they had provided us, total new residents, with our home on our arrival.

I had an appointment with the movers the next day at 10 am which I postponed to noon, so that maybe the carpet is in a better condition. That morning I even went to buy a piece of plastic to lay over the carpet so that I could unload the truck. They came at noon and saw the carpet and frankly suggested I need to dry this up before moving in, they suggested industrial fans which I went and bought on Sunday afternoon. I bought two of those and contacted emergency maintenance to come and see what’s going on in that wetland of an apartment for which I had already paid a ton of money just to get the key, to a very inhabitable place! The emergency guy was stuck in between honesty and the benefits of his supervisor managing the complex! I wanted him to see what a mess they had provided me. He contacted his manager and realized the carpet cleaners had come to clean the carpet on the same day that I was supposed to move in, like a couple hours before I arrived. For God’s sake, I was supposed to be in my home on Saturday morning and you show up to clean my carpet at 8 pm?! It just happened that I arrived late on that day. And he had done an absolutely terrible job on not only cleaning the carpet but soaking it with dirty water sitting there!

The emergency guy brought another two fans to fan out the moisture from the carpet on Sunday along with the other two big ones I had bought. I had to leave it and go back to the hotel which I had already checked out since I thought it will be good enough to move in but it was absolutely worsened with the stink coming out of it. I had rescheduled with the movers until Monday at 6 pm just to be sure it will be done by then. Next day was my first day at work which started by me traveling to work from a hotel. My wife went to see the apartment and couldn’t stand the space as it was so horribly stinking. She went to the manager to let him know what has been happening to us in this time and he had treated her so wrongly as if we owe him something on top of the $1,900 I had already paid from my previous home and now was a homeless person without a penny of cash in my pocket! That was so frustratingly cruel and absolutely irresponsible. I had to leave work, my first day at work at a whole new company after 4 hours and go see what on earth was going on with my assumingly future home!!! What a cruel world it is, the people, the realtors, and those who manage real states! It feels like they want to draw your blood and drink it in front of your eyes!

I went there and talked to the manager for about an hour and explained what a mess they had provided for us (I wish there was another word I could title him with, as he is so not worth this title). They did not seem to care much but to contact the carpet cleaner and blame them. The carpet was a little less moist and I thought maybe I could move in now. I sat a bit by the kitchen inside the apartment and I felt like I was to puke from the smell rising from the floor. Yet still I thought it will go away and I cursed the people in charge so damn hard in my heart. That evening the movers came again and I was somehow determined to move in but I wanted a second opinion, not my wife’s as she hated it already. I asked the movers for their honest opinion and they walked into the apartment and back up right away. They said either the whole building is full of mildew or some animals are left dead in this building. That was when I lost it. It was Monday and the office was open and I was there and it was their home and they were supposed to have it move-in-ready by Saturday and I had no place to go. I called the emergency maintenance again and he came over and saw what hellish of a condition they had provided for me. He contacted his supervisor and his manager and they started a conversation. He said they will replace the carpet tomorrow, Tuesday!! And both me and my wife still homeless, paid for something that was not even slightly ready had no option but to go to a hotel again using my credit cards.

I talked to my work manager and explained him the situation and he said don’t go to work tomorrow; stay home and finish the inhumane business those people had created for you. I came back on Tuesday morning and respectfully complained about the terrible conditions and that I expect to see somebody to take responsibility. Thanks God I had some credit cards, otherwise I had to sleep in my car for three nights! Apparently the big guys of this management, this absolutely irresponsible management, had talked to each other and had the complex manager suggest me that I also have the option of termination of lease based on mutual agreement with a reimbursement of the costs that had incurred on me during this time. I and the manager signed some agreements on the funds to be reimbursed back to me and we rushed out to find another place. All the time I had spent to come up with this location was in vain and all the money I had spent the past two weeks on the hotel to find a good place was wasted and I restarted my search. We were so frustrated that quickly selected a small apartment in the area but at least we saw inside of it first.

I had no money for another two weeks until I get my first paycheck and still had not received any reimbursements. I had not received my refund for another 25 days and I had sent them several emails telling them about my condition and almost begging them to expedite the process of refunding me, all due to what they had done to me, but the only thing they said was it takes up to a month for a check to be issued! I was just so sorry for the management of this apartment complex and was just happy that I had some credit cards. I spent another night in a hotel and the same movers came help me on Wednesday at my new location. All that time all my life was in a U-Haul truck and I was homeless and penniless due to what happened here. All and all due to the irresponsibility of the person or the people in charge here. They don’t care about your condition! They just want the money out of your pocket and the sooner they get the money the sooner their true nature reveals itself. It’s just another small evidence of what capitalism has done to the people, especially those in real estate business.

I went through this experience with this property and I took a ton of pictures and videos of the apartment in that condition just to keep a record for myself. I wish I could record the vomit-provoking stench of the apartment too. I just don’t wish that to happen to anyone. It is so terribly exhausting, aggravating, and frustrating. I don’t know how the other apartments are in this complex but I would not recommend dealing with such a management who is so irresponsible and negligent about their residents. There are a lot of other good places for the more cautious people. 

Perplexity

On a cold Monday night on October 14, 2016 at approximately 1:48 am, a police officer is notified of a stopped vehicle on highway 21 near Deer Dr. close to Fallsville. The vehicle has a flat tire and driver thinks he has struck a guardrail too. Officer notices the left front tire to be blown and shredded and other damages to the other side of the car on the passenger side, maybe caused by guardrail. There is no guardrails in that area though. 

Officer asks the driver what happened and he says he stops the car when he realize the tire goes flat. Officer asks him if he struck anything on the road; he says no. When he is asked about the right side damage, he says he must have hit something but he doesn't know! The driver then says that he and his wife had taken their daughter home to Boxley and were heading back north to Kingston. The officer tells him that he is heading south on highway 21 just south of Kingston, but he could not explain why he was on the other side of the road driving away from their home; he didn't even remember turning around at any point! Their car was then towed to their residence by a towing company who knew their family. The tow guy tells the officer that their daughter had died several years ago. 

What's your first impression on this, I mean the very first impression? I'd like to know that. Is it confusing? funny? scary? sad? or what? all work but the first impression is only one of them.

Concealed thoughts!

فقط یک چیز. تقدس یک هدف والا همواره برتر و پررنگ تر از آزار هر سنگریزه ایه که در راه رسیدن به اون هدف ممکنه
جلوی پای انسان باشه. همه ی مسیر ها هموار نیستن، همه شون جاده ی حاضر و آماده هم نیستن. خیلی موقع ها هم باید از روی موانع پرید، گاهی موانع به نظر خیلی محکم میان ولی در واقع هیچ مانعی محکم نیست. هیچ مانعی مانع نیست، ما حتی گاهی اسم سنگریزه ها رو می ذاریم مانع.

حرف خاصی نبود ولی یه عالمه چرندیات بود که همش پیش نویس شد و موند همون تو. من تا به حال دو یا سه بار تصمیم گرفتم داستان زندگی مو بنویسم هر بار هم تو تست گشادی که برای نوشتار تنگ لازم، به کار می ره رد شدم، یک بار با امتیاز شاهد ردش کردم ولی باز هم نشد، یه کمی نوشتیم از شیکم مادرمون بیرون نیومده نوشته ها خاک خور شدن. هیچی گفتیم این کارا به درد ما نمی خوره، همین بایو مایو ها که هر از گاهی می نویسیم از سرمون هم زیاده. به قول یکی از دوستان که هر کی از مامانش قهر می کنه یا می ره خواننده می شه یا وبلاگ نویس یا یه یه چیزی تو این مایه ها.
تفاوت های الکی. فیس های الکی. فیس های تو خالی. تهوعی از اصالت وجود که سارتر می گفت

تو حتی اگه یک ساعت و یا شاید هم ساعت ها به یک نقطه روی پانل های خاکستری رنگ اتاقک های مطالعه توی کتابخونه خیره بشی و فکر کنی و فکر کنی و حلاجی کنی باز هم به آخر سریال لاست می رسی. باز هم به آخر خیلی از فیلم ها می رسی که می خوان بگن باید یک کار کرد و اون هم جریان طبیعیه. باید گذاشت بره جلو، خودش اون طور که هست، باید سدش نکرد، جلوشو نگرفت که اینجا چه می کنی، یا اونجا چه می کنی. باید سعی کرد، جهت داد، اما ریز کنترل کردن یه رودخونه ی پر خروش کار ما نیست. اصلن هدف ما هم نیست... ا

گفتنش یه کم سخته. ولی من سعی امو می کنم که فروش کنم توی همین کلمات بلکه همین جا نقش ببندن. آدم های دور و برم عجیب ان. شاید هم تنهان نمی دونم. تنهایی آدم ها رو عجیب می کنه. شاید هم خودم عجیبم. آره احتمالا خودم عجیبم. می دونی آدم که خودش عجیب باشه فکر می کنه همه عجیبن و فقط خودش عجیب نیست. این هم فلسفه ایه به هر حال.

گاهی اوقات در مورد خودم به یه سری شناخت هایی می رسم انگار. مرد خانواده ام یا احساس اسارت میکنم با ازدواج؟ یا می خوام تنها باشم؟ یا نه دوست دارم خانواده داشته باشم برای خودم. یه خانواده زیبا و آزادی متفاوتی رو تجربه کنم؟

خسته می شی خوب دیگه، این جا هم یه جا مثل همه جاهای دیگه رو زمین. آدمه خوب خسته می شه، همش می خواد خسته نشه، همین جوری قدم به قدم یه سری بطری های آب معدنی راه به راه گذاشتن تو کویر که تشنه شدی برسی بهشون و بتونی بری جلوتر و بری جلوتر و بالاخره برسی به واحه ای که سراب نیست

و کسایی که خودشون و از اول صب تا بوق سگ به کار مشغول می کنن تا سرگرم کاری باشن تا فکر نکنن تا دلشون نخواد که سرشونو بکوبن به دیوارهای خط خطی. که دیگه مجالی واسه ذهن وا موندشون نمونه که بخوان به آینده یا گذشته فکر کنن. کاری که ازشون خواسته شده رو انجام می دن بی کم و کاست. رییس راضی ازشون و زندگی و روز و شب هم پیش می ره. خانواده هم ازشون راضیه. همین کافیه؟ خودت چی؟ خودت راضی هستی؟ خودت چی می خوای؟ خودت چی می خوای آخه از این بودنت؟

پ.ن. پست پیش نویس شده از جون 2016 امروز منتشر شد. چرا..؟
پ.ن. توضیح تصویر در زیر

Invisibilia Episode #1 "The Secret History of Thoughts". Daniel Horowitz for NPRCo-hosts Alix Spiegel and Lulu Miller ask the question, "Are my thoughts related to my inner wishes, do they reveal who I really am?" The answer can have profound consequences for your life.

Bio 79

مثل يه فلاخن مي مونه كه به سمت بالا شليكت ميكنه. ميدوني يه جورايي تو بهش ميگي مثلن ميخواي برسي به اونجا، به ماه، به خورشيد يا مثلن ارتفاع يك كيلومتري. خودش ميدونه كي و كجا بچه فلاخن ها رو كار بذاره كه وقتي از اولي رها شدي و با سرعت به سمت هدفت رفتي تا جايي كه انرژي فلاخن اول تموم شده و تنبل شدي و ديگه شتاب نداري ميافتي تو دومي.
فكر ميكني باز تو تله افتادي باز سرگيجه ميگيري انقدر ميچرخوندت و سرعتتو زياد ميكنه كه احساس ميكني دنيا دورت ميچرخه و ناگهان با سرعت هرچه تمام تر به سمت بالا، به سمت هدفت پرتت ميكنه. و اين داستان هميشه تكرار ميشه. هميشه تا به هدفت و هدف بعدي و هدف بعدي برسوندت. اين دلاشوب ها همه اش برای اينه كه سرعت تو بره بالا. 
تا هميشه
من همیشه

Bio 78

هوس خوابگاه تبریز و کردم با همون دوستای دلدار. قلیون. چای. سیگار هم بود. صدای ساز. البته وقتی توشی تقریبا هیچکس دلدار نیست و تقریبان چیزای خیلی کمی جذاب و خاطره ساز به حساب میان. این طبیعت ماست که همیشه بعد از عبور زمانی یا مکانی از چیزی یا کسی یا جایی دوباره نوستالژیک وار بهش بر میگردیم و لذت درد دلتنگی اسیرمون می کنه. ولش کن مهم نیست، خوب هوس خوابگاه کردم و چایی و دلکش که اسیر دام توام ای محرم رازم...ا

Bio 77

When I first came to the US, I thought how nice of these people it is to show so much kindness when they see you in the streets and the way they greet you and ask how you are doing and so on. Now, I am totally bored by this manner of these so-called world class citizens of the states as it turns out that it is just the same damn routine of their life, void of any meaning. Just like the way I hated it at home when people pass by each other or see each other and ask for news saying what’s up or what’s going on in Farsi, these people also have the same thing and I don’t like it at all. I feel like every time I pass by someone who asks me what is going on or how is it going or what’s up, I want to stop them and explain to them what actually is going on with me! I think that is an appropriate response to what they ask me, and saying “not much” does not satisfy the requirements of the question.

I think if I do this every time I hear someone asks me how is it going, that person wouldn’t dare ask me again as I will take a few minutes of his or her time to answer their question and that’s definitely not what they have in mind when they ask it. Well I understand it is just a greeting convention people use but it just doesn’t make any sense to me to use such greeting when you can say good morning or good evening or anything like that which actually conveys something and makes sense to say it to someone who you barely know. Oh I know I am making a big deal out of this but I can’t help it, it is like a pet peeve I have and I can’t overcome the trouble of letting it go! Oh the damn rhetoric concepts in my mind have always been bothersome, to the extent that sometimes I have felt I am losing the meaning of words and regard them as a bunch of nonsensical sounds expelling from my throat in the shape of letters with no purpose in their essence. I am confused how I like language and its craziness and at the same time I get mad at it when it is being abused.

Bio 76

Ted English, one of my colleagues here in AHTD is a hunter; he goes deer hunting in late fall and early winter seasons when it is allowed. They call it the hunting season. There are several seasons for different hunting methods including bow and arrow, muzzleloader hunting, and modern gun hunting. The bow season starts somewhere in October and after a month or so, the muzzleloader season begins. Sometime in December, the modern gun season starts while it doesn’t last long. After a season for any method starts, you may still use the previous method as you wish. Ted says some people do not switch to guns and stick do bow and arrow because they like the challenge. He does all of them though and fills his freezer with deer meet.

The last time I was talking to him about hunting and how I used to go hunting with my dad with those double barrel shotguns and how we mainly hunted birds as there was no deer in Iran. In our conversation we came to a point where he explained how tough and challenging it is to use the bow and arrow or the muzzleloader guns as you only have and only one shot to take the deer or otherwise you will lose the game. Sometimes, the arrow hits the bone and it’s just an inch or two into the flesh and the deer just thinks he was bit by something and moves along. Sometimes, using bow and arrow you may injure the game and he runs off and you need to track them to find them; it mat even take a day if the shot is not serious enough to knock him out in time.

For the muzzleloader you also have only one shot as you don’t have time to refill the gun and all that trouble, because after your first shot, the deer escapes, so you just have to be fully careful on how you take your shot. Like bow and arrow, muzzleloader is not quick, it’s a one shot chance. As he was talking about these something popped in my mind: Eminem’s song named “lose yourself” where he starts the song by saying “if you have one shot, one opportunity …” and I told Ted about it and later sent him a link to the YouTube music video saying that you may put this song into the context of muzzleloader hunting. How interesting was that!

Instance of Insanity

A second I am writing an equation on the moisture content of the wood, being equal to the difference in the mass of the wet and over-dried wood sample divided by the over-dried mass, and right away I picture the well-known junction of Raahband in the city of Sari! Within a few seconds, my close friend in Sari is marching in front of the screen of my mind and I recall how that junction looked like and how they were going to transform it to an interchange with connected over-passing loops and ramps and so on, how Mahdi, my friend waited at the Times Square of the town through the line of people waiting for taxi and the route cab would take to reach Raahband and then their house!

Then I find myself totally baffled by the flash back; how did this happen, such an absolutely out of the ordinary mental reminisce! How could the wood moisture content connect me to the city of Sari and specifically that junction in town! Out the millions of buried memoirs in my subconscious, why would it pick this specific location, and why would it even needed to be a location and not a person or an event or some scent or taste etc. It is dazzling how the nature works and it’s even more stunning how all these little nerves connect and their little chemical and electrical linkage to the past and future is. It is just something I guess can never be totally understood. But it was definitely something worth to write about; an instance of insanity!

4271

Just had a phone call from Gloria, the office administrator of the Public Transportation Section. The caller id said 2471, and I was taken back in time to about 25 years ago, when the land line telephone had just been introduced to our little town. Grandpa bought one of these old-fashioned phones with the finger dialing gadget and all that antiquity features! The number that was assigned to our household was 4271. Those days, you wouldn’t need to dial a 7-digit number to call anyone in town; only four digits would suffice; although, if you wanted to call out of town, you would have to add another three digits to the beginning of it, which were 648, and this was when you wanted to call within your district, and if you wanted to call someone outside your residing district, you had to dial another 3-digit number preceding all the seven numbers suffixing a zero, which was 0-142. So, these numbers are somehow carved into the wall of my memory and would never drop into my subconscious!

Another trigger to this whole “wonder” is when I wanted to reference the coordinator of the course I used to teach at Missouri S&T, the IDE 120 – Materials Testing, Dr. Jeffery Thomas. His office phone number was the same as our first phone number, 4271, and I didn’t even need to dial the 341 for university internal calls, and that was nice too. Calling from outside the university, though, I had to first dial the area code 573 and then 341-4271.

And now, Gloria’s phone number is 2471, and if I want to call the department from outside I will have to first dial the area code 501 and then 569-2471. Nice and interesting resemblance and another little trivia of life, which I enjoy noticing. It’s kind of a thing some people may have like this friend I had at Missouri S&T, Maryam Abdi. I hope she is doing alright, she was/is a bright kid and I wish the best for her. But anyway, one day we were studying or drinking coffee or something at Panera that she mentioned how she notices a combination of the three numbers 1, 3, and 5 in a lot of instances through different uses, in the number plates of cars, telephone numbers in billboard advertisements, some engineering constants in her books, etc. and she also showed me an occurrence right then, which I don’t remember what it was. Then she asked me if I had such an observation of numbers anytime, and well no I had never noticed anything like that. Well that was somehow interesting too, a little trivia in one’s analytical mind to generate patterns through random observations in her personal “world of ideas”.

Isn’t this cool to have something foolishly interesting?!

Bio 75

Steady operation is when a service facility has been open and in operation for some time. When I reach steady state, I feel void and would like a just sit and stare at a point in the wall, usually a defect or something, that makes it different from everything else and most appropriate to focus upon. Then I would turn on the music, the melancholic playlist I made myself on Spotify and keep listening to it. The playlist mainly includes my favorite piano pieces that take me to another land and leaves me floating there, wondering around without the urge of engaging in a thought process or even vacated of the automated thought generations of mind. There, I just am, in my steady state of being, where there is no wonderment or undulations of mental waves. It is so serene and peaceful that I would like to be operational at all time, only to reach this point, where nothing can worry, exalt, exasperate, or alter my mood, and oh, it is so sweet.

Here are just a few of the melodies in this playlist (I am not into music so I am just copying their names as they are in my playlist):

-          Adagio from Concerto No. 3 in D Minor by Bach

-          Petit Reve Bizarre No. 20 by Brad Hill

-          Naval by Yann Tiersen, a soundtrack of the movie Tabarly

-          Du Cote de Chez Swann, played by Ellen Cunningham Weaver

-          Adiago Marcello Bach, played by Leslie Bridges

-          Valkyrie No. 11 in B-Flat Minor, played by Calos Marquez

-          Nocturne No. 20 in C Sharp Minor, by Frederic Chopin