The Craigslist House - Chapter 2 - The Decision

Previously, from Chapter 1, an end summary:

...Craigslist had become a viable, and trusted resource...

...I got a few more hits from the roommate idea. I did go and meet the folks who had answered my ad. All, proved to be unacceptable, some were plain-out screw-balls.

...started looking through the posted ads... I opened up an email dialog. The guy's name was Tommy, and he told me he was looking for a roommate for his roommate. Tommy was moving next door with his new girlfriend...
At, the time, it seemed logical to me.

I had found my Shangri-La in Tualatin. And, I'm still in Tualatin, in the place I found through Tommy. He still lives next door, and he, and, I, and his girlfriend, and his other roommates all, have become good friends.

But, Shangri-La? Nothing could have been further from the truth! And, I always am looking for an opening to bring up the point, to Tommy; “this is all your fault!”

And, when I picked the name "The Craigslist House," I had thought about another choice too, "the Psycho House."

After, all, I am living with grandson of Norman Bates, sort of, no blood, but, certainly twisted, r..e...a..l..l..y TWISTED! And, he's not just missing one screw, he's missing several...

(I always barricade my door before I go to bed.)

Welcome my friends, you've just stepped into The Craigslist House!

I'll let Norman know you're here. I have to keep my eye on him. Hopefully, he's done skinning the neighbor's cat.

Chapter 2 - the Decision

I moved into this uniquely created housing arrangement on March 7, 2008. I had worries, such, as, what would my new “Craigslist” roommate would be like? Would he be a person who likes a lot of noise? Would he be trustworthy? Would we have anything in common? Would he have the same agenda, as , I? Would my new landlord go for this “Craigslist-arrangement?” Am I being sucked into a scam? And all these concerns just kept whirling-around, over, and over, in my mind. I had never done anything like this, I, mean, like, move up, reach higher, and, actually, see and experience, and mingle with -- oh, my gosh -- the real, flowing, “social life,” of electronic-oriented 21st Century A-M-E-R-I-C-A!

Ah, I said to myself. Now, it was my turn to do what I had communicated to many people, and laughed at those who refused, or, said they just couldn't, or wouldn't, or were afraid, or, were, just, content to be stuck where they were (in Twentieth Century America), in-other-words, refusing to initiate CHANGE! Yea, buddy! Could I actually put my actions in motion, and DO, what I had told all those other people I had met on the road to the 21st Century.

I remembered the long winding, turning, road, with all its pitfalls, potholes, road-bandits, wide-open ranges, tall-high mountains, high plateaus, vista visions, magical devices, family, and friends, and, oh, what-a-ride-it-was. The road, though, not perfect, had certainly, delivered, on-most, of what was promised -- “the ride of a lifetime.” And, like I had tried to tell, so, many, I found and met along the road, the message many did not hear, or, maybe, did not want to hear, “we need to hurry (1995)!” This road is ending. Look! There's flashing lights ahead, BIG-FLASHING-YELLOW-LIGHTS (1996)!!

And, now, there's flashing lights behind us too (1997). Most, walked with me, and, some, well, actually quite a few, we're content right where they were. As, we got closer to the flashing lights, you could see the warning sign. In giant, bright, bold letters was its simple message, “ROAD ENDS,” (1998). Some folks were running the wrong-way in sheer panic, others were standing on the corners screaming about the world ending, screaming about entering Satan's kingdom, screaming about the New World Order, in fact, there were people screaming and running everywhere around me, and those who walked with me. I thought, “what could be so bad about the 'road ending?'”

I had actually stopped a few miles back and got my trip-planning done, so, I knew what was at the end, of this road (1999). What was at the end? The road ended at the banks of a huge sea, so, fogged in that no one could see beyond the dock, and at the dock was the biggest ship I had ever set my eyes on. The ship's name was, regardless of the thick fog, readable to all. The ship's name was, and still is, “the S.S. 21st Century, and, it had been boarding for a while.

I had my boarding pass, and, I certainly was not going to miss my chance to discover, explore, experience, taste, feel, and breathe, the real journey of a lifetime, a journey to new, and bekoning frontiers, still undiscovered, wide-open, where the sky was no longer the limit, and, baby, I wasn't about to miss this voyage. But, there was quite a crowd, and the clock was ticking. I kept looking at my watch.

The official departure time was 11:59pm, December 31, 1999. Talking, earlier, along the road with others who were going on the voyage, I had found out that if I didn't make it in time I could still leap from the shore to the deck of the ship, but, it had to be done fairly soon because the leap-time would lessen the further the ship was from the dock. So, time was crucial. If I failed to hit-the-deck I'd be stuck on shore forever, stuck, in centuries past! Stuck in the Twentieth Century.

And, for me, this wasn't an option. Gosh, as far back as I can remember, maybe as far back as being, just, nine-years-old, I had dreamed about the 21st Century. I had, long ago, made getting to Century 21, my number one goal in my journey on the road. Why? As, odd, as, it seems, I had always known, deep down in my soul, that the 21st Century was my century, and I needed to get there, no matter what. And, just like birds migrate, I'd always had this hard-to-explain feeling about returning home, home to the 21st Century. And, tell me that's not weird? But, I swear on my Mother's grave, it is as, true, as, true can be.

Change, and the world changes with you. Don't change, and the world changes anyway, leaving you behind. I am a believer in Change, and, I have always pressed others to move-forward, try new things, experience life, and capture it as it comes at you.

I had bought and sold stuff on Craigslist for a number of years. I had learned the difference between Craigslist, an organization founded, like Google, and Yahoo, from an ideology rooted in creating things “from the heart,” not originally intended for making profits and money, but, just intended for the purpose of helping your neighbors, friend, family, and, just, helping others. Just, as, Craig Newman, founder of Craigslist, said recently in regards to the difference between his company and Ebay, was the fact he created Craigslist to help his community (San Francisco), have an avenue of travel onto the Internet to sell and trade stuff, and Ebay was created not with “helping,” as a first prioity, but, with, making money as a first priority. And, Mr. Newman said, “it doesn't matter what the value of Craigslist is, according to Ebay, whether it's two billion, or three billion dollars, or whatever, Craigslist is not for sale, and, the money, who cares? We were founded on the basis of helping our community, not making money!” (Ebay is fighting Craigslist in California State Court, over a stock issue.)

Therefore, I believe in Craigslist, and, I believe in Mr. Newman's ideology, and, try to practice “helping others,”
every day.

Now, I had become fearful, fearful of social networking, and, that fear, in my mind, might, just cause me to be removed from the ship, and tossed back onto the shore, the shore, of centuries past!

So, with abundent fear, sweaty, wet, hands, I took a deep breath, and plunged into what would become “The Craigslist House, one, twisted, psychotic fiasco, complete with Norman Bates, a handful of superb support people – my neighbors, an occasion cameo from the Tualatin Police, a totally hands-off landlord (I've never met the guy, and I don't believe Norman has either – yea, he sent the lease out by mail, never did a background check, never came out to see who we were, and, remember, the lease to the stage (house) where the performance will and does take place, is for a full year.

Now, I'm, worrying about my sick, twisted, scum roommate, and, is, there the possibility I could be the real Norman Bates?

Oh, Norman, please leave the kitty alone. Yes, Norman (Clif).....

You, just, can't imagine the things that go through my mind, about how to get rid of my Craigslist roommate? Would the real Norman Bates please stand up. (oh, I hope its not me...)

Chapter Three is titled “Mean and Twisted"
Chapter Four is titled "the House Manager"

There has been a bit of a gap since Chapter Two was released. But, all the ingredients needed for the sick and twisted Chapter 3, is in the cooker (oops! I meant, "the Craigslist House), and, as it began to boil, the house manager arrives in hopes of a successful mediation. Weeks, later, we find, Tommy, my chosen house manager, now, unable to exit, blending into the unsavory mix, which is "the Craigslist House."

(the Craigslist House is an on-going experiment in Tualatin, Oregon -- Watch for pictures!)

(Norman has peep holes) and, I still barricade my door at night...

Chapter Three will be released in October 2008 -
Happy Halloween!

The Craigslist House - Chapter 1 - A Real Life Survivor Story
http://www.xomba.com/the_craigslist_house_a_real_life_survivor_series

Enjoy your day!

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