I swear I’m getting back to this, but for now, I need a bit of help…

I’m homeless again. The last several years have been a real bitch. Survival Mode has been pretty much a constant.

I have been barely supporting myself over the last few years with the occasional full time job as well as doing furniture assembly and pet sitting through TaskRabbit.

But TaskRabbit has all but dried up for many of us. There are a few reasons for this, but this is neither the time nor place to go into that. 

I am struggling to find remote work. I’m looking for remote work because it’ll be better on my mental and physical health. No commute, etc. I am autistic and have C-PTSD. Full time work will be more productive for me if remote.

GFM

I am currently houseless and staying in a motel where there are a multitude of restrictions. One of which is where I would have to lock my cat in a kennel if I’m not home when they hold their inspections and when housekeeping comes through. I would get written up. So, I need to stay home in the mornings. A remote job would be better for me overall. 

But until I find one, I need a bit of help. I have two storage units in two different facilities. They are both behind in rent. I also need to combine them by removing everything in the smaller unit and move it to the bigger one, which is cleaner and safer. I will need to get caught up on the rent for both. One is currently sitting at $700 and the other is $100. Any extra will go to renting a trailer or van to move the stuff in the smaller unit. 

The rent for the bigger unit at Extra Space is roughly $260/mo. This is two months of rent plus late fees. Then the other unit at Public Storage is roughly $75, with late fees. They’re more brutal about late fees, liens, and auction. 

My whole life is in those two units. Please help me save them. 

Thank you.

1/2/19: A Bit Different

I’ve always been kind of an “odd duck” well, rabbit. I’m still not entirely sure if identifying as Rabbit from Winnie-the-Pooh is a good thing or a bad one. But I’ve had several friends agree that I’m Rabbit. But I’ve always been different. Not so much in a neuro-atypical way, just different.

I was the kid who plucked dog and cat hairs from the family pets and looked at them under the 3x microscope. The one who “hunted the dragon” which was actually my dad working on the yard. The kid who was caught on film in rainbow striped tights and a slip (top, not skirt) and ballet shoes, using my dad’s drafting table after hours to doodle.

The teen who wore black leather lace up boots and a beret or real fedora -black with a grey band- and pink and blue shiny eye shadow. Drawing and dancing and singing and pretending I was famous. All while contemplating suicide because of emotional abuse.

I tried, in my 20’s, to go with the pack, to dress like others and fit in. But I realized as I inched closer to 30 that that wasn’t me. It wasn’t WHO or WHAT I was. Still not me now. I rejected the “American Dream” concept of a house in the ‘burbs with the white picket fence and all the other trappings.

My life has been filled with good and bad. The bad has had a tendency to overwhelm me and my life. From a sexually abusive relationship to almost dying at 35 from Cellulitis. To being homeless for most of the past two years. It hasn’t been easy, not by any means.

For labels: I’m an Androgynous Aromantic Asexual Furry Cosplayer who also happens to write SF/F… and, well, there probably are a few other things. I paint, I sew, I design floorplans of houses and costumes. I can draft my own patterns to some degree. I refer to myself as a Geek-of-all-Trades.

And just about everything that one with all those labels and hobbies (along with more I didn’t list) would have to help define who they are is locked away in the storage unit up for auction tomorrow at noon PST. My identity, my first fursuit, my costumes, my sewing machine, my music.

My everything.

I’m not perfect or beautiful or famous like I had dreamed of as a kid. I’m just this one person who is trying to pick my life back up after being on temporary hold for almost two years. I’m a person who stumbles and falls on my own feet while walking along the path of life. I think a lot of us do that. I just choose not to hide the bruises from my falls.

~A

1/2/19: The Path Taken #poetry

This poem is also an older one. Again, not sure how old. I have several cheap comp books that I buy several of at a time. Most get used for poetry and then get lost and, years later, found again.

---

The Path Taken

The shiny things.
Rainbows.
We smile and say
“I’m fine.”
As we tear ourselves
Apart.
Inside.

The path taken.
The cliff we stand on.
How close some get.
While others take that step.
The path of darkness
Luring us deeper into
The Abyss.
The vines grab hold
Not wanting us to leave.

Fight to break free
The vines constrict us.
Pull us deeper.
Silence us.
We struggle to break free.
Some win.
Some don’t.
Others remain in limbo.
Until one side wins.

The cliff beckons.
The path calls to us.
The sirens sing.
Come… live with us.
Stay here.

The path taken.
The Dark or the Light.

~A

12/28: #weightloss backstory

Weight Loss: In my adult life, I’ve struggled with my weight. I was a skinny kid and after I stopped dancing at 22, and then shifted away from regular exercise by 24, the weight piled on. I’m at my heaviest: 185lbs.

Now, I *could* live with the weight if it weren’t for my family history. I physically take after my dad’s side to an almost bizarre degree. Same bone structure, personality characteristics, etc… all (almost completely) from my dad’s side. This includes health. Dad and both of his brothers are/were heart patients (one uncle still living). My paternal grandmother had diabetes. Not sure what Grandpa had, but I suspect heart issues as well. I’m already on Toprol for tachycardia (it works for me, but I have to pair Celexa for my anxiety with it). I imagine my tachycardia might calm down a bit with dropping some of my weight. Also, the longer I go at a heavier weight, the higher my risk of worse heart issues AND diabetes.

So, here I am at 46. 5’2″ and 185lbs. While the timing is RATHER cliche (New year’s resolution stuff and all, which I’ve never really bothered with), I want to start now. Somehow, I will find the funds to join the local gym. They keep changing their specials, but I’m going to wait until the activation fee is back to $0.

This isn’t just for weight loss. My back has been getting progressively worse since the fall 7 years ago. And then another one year ago. All the docs can do is give me pain meds (and most don’t really do much of anything) and tell me to exercise. “Free” exercise is usually what they suggest. This means walking. The problem for me is that, most days, walking more than two or three blocks results in excruciating pain.

The gym two blocks from me not only has weights and a basketball court (yeah, not touching that), and classes, but has a lap pool and a hot tub. This I’m totally down for. My swimming skills are rusty, but I can do the backstroke the best. I have a hard time torquing my body enough to do most others so I can get breath. Backstroke it is.

Then machines. Work my way back up to leg presses equaling my weight (yes, at 120, I could do leg presses above my weight). Goals are to strengthen my back, core, and legs. This will help with reinjuries and stabilizing my back. It will also help with my weight.

I’ll announce when I join the gym. I’ll post pics. I’ll make my journey public. My inspiration today was this guy. I’ve followed him on Twitter. While my goal is roughly 55lbs (185 to 130), seeing someone kick ass like he has makes me know I can totally do this.

~A

12/26: wishes and dreams

Wishes of snowflakes dance in the air.

The streetlights flicker into existence

The muted sun says goodnight over

The western hills.

Dreams of bigger things whisper in the hearts

Of those who have little.

Nicer baubles dance, teasing those who

Have enough to share but don’t.

Patience is not always an easy virtue.

It tells us to wait. Wait for it.

Wait for what?

Ahh, but you will see. When it is right.

Memories of past, reminders of pain and glory.

Dream the future. Wherever we go.

The past must be invited along.

Remember and learn to do better soon.

Those who came before were the same as you and I.

Different names and births, but same nonetheless.

Hear their tales and heed their advice.

Those wishes of snowflakes will dance through the night.

~A

12/26: Personal Projects

I have a few personal projects that will be incorporated into this blog. One will be a static page. The second will likely be just a post. Same for the third one. Then there’s the Big Kahuna. That one is semi-secret, namely because I want to try to get a grant to do the research. But it’s a massive project.

The first post project is about Medicare For All. I’ve had discussions on FB with people about what is being pitched and what I think it should have. Admittedly, I haven’t delved too much into it yet. It’ll take me a bit. I do know, from my own personal observations, that there are things from Medicare as it is right now that need an overhaul. My parents were on it, being they were older from the get-go. I saw issues with the system from my dad’s experiences in caring for my mom as her Alzheimer’s worsened. And for his own health.

I also don’t think what we have for Medicaid is perfect either. Same for private insurance. My ideal is to take the best aspects of all three systems and make THAT Universal Healthcare. But I’ll go into more detail later.

The second post project is more a personal observation of the systems in place for the homeless population here in PDX. Some organizations are doing just fine, others… well, they need a LOT of work. And an institutional spanking because they’re trying to do shit they don’t have the staff/funding/training for. I’ll do my best to dissect the good, bad, and the ugly.

I won’t go into too much detail about the Big Kahuna. But if anyone knows where a solo researcher can get a grant for a social science project, let me know. That one will likely surface over on a barely-started blog of mine that has nothing going yet. Life and all.

Then there’s the static page project. I can do a fair chunk of the searching for links myself, but if anyone knows of non-profits in their state/country, let me know. This project is about FERAL CAT RESOURCES. My intent is to list links and some info on TNR (Trap Neuter Release) programs in all 50 states of the US, hopefully Canadian provinces as well. And if there are any, overseas in other countries.

I think that’s it for now. I’ll try to get back to the poetry posts at some point as well. I just haven’t felt really super creative of late.

~A

12/25: Merry Christmas

To talk a bit about the holidays and not just begging for help… one trend I’ve noticed on social media this year in particular is that people complain about being lonely. It isn’t so much that they don’t have family or similar, but that they wish they had a significant other. I don’t. I’m perfectly and contentedly single and alone and all the more happy. I think what I have come to understand and many haven’t quite yet is that one really must be at peace with being alone and confident in that aloneness before they do contemplate finding someone to share life with.

Now, some of these people are also likely rather horny and want more than just companionship, but I’m Aromantic Asexual and even in some of the Ace groups I’m in, I see fellow Aces pine for someone to spend the holidays with and that they hate being alone.

For me, I have no solid interest in getting into a relationship. But I also know that sometimes the universe has a way of playing around and that there may be someone out there who gets it and would be a great life partner for me. I haven’t met that person yet, and that’s fine. I’m not ready for one. And if he wants kids, well, look somewhere else. My uterus is closed for business. Not like it was ever open for business. But I digress.

---

I’ll sign off for now. If all you can do is share my posts, that’s fine. But share often. It would be nice to sleep on my mattress for the new year.

~A

9/22: Political Divide Ponderings (and #crowdfunding)

I have always been in the “Bleeding Heart Liberal” category. I knew at 15 that I was going to register Democrat. My parents were both registered Republicans. But from a time when Republicans were more liberal (Dad was an Eisenhower Republican) and Dems were more conservative. My mother was originally a Democrat, from back in the day before parties switched views. She switched to Republican, around when she married my dad. I think because her views were so conservative, he nudged her to change affiliation to match her views. Dad, however, was pro-choice and all the other stuff. He voted Republican, but man, he was liberal through and through.

By the time I was 18, I knew Democrat was where I belonged. Some of my views have a twinge of Libertarian in them, but I’m staunchly a Dem. When I got my voter ID card at 18, I showed it to my dad, who joked, “Where did we go wrong with you?” I knew he was messing with me in a good way. Remember, he was quite liberal and I am such my father’s daughter. He knew, in his own quiet way, that I was in the right spot.

---

Flash forward to this past week. A couple days ago, I got into a debate with a conservative woman from this shelter. Here’s where my pondering begins.

How can someone who is homeless/poor/etc and reasonably intelligent stand by politicians who are so vehemently against them? I’m talking about the Liar in Chief. I usually just use ’45’ to refer to him, and will do so the rest of this post.

How does a woman who served in the military and depends on the VA in all its brokenness support a man who cuts spending for the very system she uses?

How can someone who is living in a shelter that depends on federal grant money to help people say that the government shouldn’t be the ones who help the poor and disabled, but that churches should be?

The debate happened while we were waiting for the MAX train back from her first trip to IKEA is several years. When we got on the train, I was so pissed, I just started ignoring her. She turned to a man on the other side of her and started in about “ignorant liberals”

…

*twitch*

…

*twitch*

…

The one thing I got clearly from her was this: she got her advanced education later in life (a Bachelor’s in Science [B.S.] in something) and had dropped a class because the professor made something clear about some sort of view that was decidedly more liberal than conservative. She then went into how she was glad she didn’t pursue her degree when she was younger because she might have been convinced and brainwashed back then to agree with this more liberal view.

As with everything involving the women in this shelter (other than the backstabbing and lies some pull), it all has mostly blown over and she’s all smiles again with me. Meh. I’ll move on and chat again with her. Just not today.

---

This is why I ponder these things:

I am innately curious about the human condition and psyche. Always have been. Ever since I was out of diapers, I either had a camera in my hand or was observing people in how they acted, reacted, and interacted. I wanted to understand human behavior from the time I was really little.

I’ve long joked that I’m really an alien from another planet who was dropped off here to observe human behavior. Sometimes, it doesn’t really feel like that much of a joke. I’ve always felt different. Like I wasn’t the same. Not human. My physiology is the same, save for a few oddities, but I am essentially a human being. I just don’t feel like I am one.

I want to understand why people behave how they do, believe things they do, act how they do. I’ve always been the one who asked questions and looked for answers. As a kid, I was always pulling random things from the yard and putting them under our little 3x microscope. I wasn’t big on dissection once we got to that in school, but I wanted to learn about other things.

Why are we seemingly always at war with each other?

Why do we so easily fear and then hate each other because of differences?

I know that second one is partly why I feel so different. I choose not to fear the differences. I’m curious about why the differences are there, and want to examine those differences. I love and embrace my curiosity. I want to absorb and learn and experience those differences. And I’ve never understood why others don’t want the same.

To choose being informed over conformity.

~A

6/13/18: Humans All

I’ve posted in the past about being homeless and being human and all that. The recent story about the jogger (asshole) in Oakland who took a local homeless man’s belongings and tossed them into Lake Merritt. The jogger has been arrested for taking the phone of a guy who spotted him the next day. Hopefully more charges will be filed against him for what he did to the homeless man’s belongings.

This reminded me of recent discussions on our local NextDoor for my old neighborhood. Some people were vehemently complaining about the homeless population while others were doing what they could to calm them down and help them see reason. In one of of these threads, I outed myself as being a former neighbor who is now living in a shelter due to an eviction.

This is the thing: no matter whether we live in a tent, a shelter, a house, apartment, or a high-rise condo, we are ALL human beings who will end up in the proverbial pine box (some will choose burial, others cremation, even others various other methods that have emerged). Where we live and how much we do or don’t have won’t matter in the long run.

If you have all the trappings of success, they could vanish next week. If your belongings fit in a storage unit or a shopping cart, you could have a windfall next month and things could improve.

Or it could all end in an instant without any change.

None of us truly know where our lives will take us. Only where we’ve been. We can have all the grand plans and ideas written down somewhere, but it’s all a matter of chance, with some choice tossed in. I learned long ago to not plan too far ahead. The rug got pulled out from under me and plans changed frequently.

I changed as well. Every instance in my life that made me change direction in some way changed me. I am nowhere near the person I was 25 years ago. Hell, 10 years ago. I’m not the same as I was last week. I learn as I live. Each day holds at least one lesson. Sometimes one I have to keep learning (don’t get me started on foodstuffs).

But back to the topic in general.

No matter where we stand in society, we are all the same. Yes, there are differences. Education, disabilities, income, housed/unhoused, skin color, eye color, career choices, etc… we are each unique in our humanity. But strip away those differences and our human-ness is a common link.

I think some -far too many- tend to forget this. Like the people in my old neighborhood bashing homeless people. The differences are merely on the surface of who we are. They forget that they could easily end up homeless like me in an instant (well, maybe longer, but given a tragic incident and draining of savings and loss of job… you get the idea).

No one is perfect. No one is above another. Money doesn’t make one superior, despite what that person may think of themselves.

I may expand more on this as I go… for now, this is my observation.

11/18: Feeling Broken

Something happened today.
Something that ripped me to pieces.
I want to believe there are humans
Who understand what being
HUMAN
Is like.
What being
HOMELESS
Is like.
My day was okay.
Except one brief moment.
That formed a black cloud
Over my head.
My soul is soaked through.
My heart and mind
Need to be wrung out.
The cloud weighed me down.
I wonder now.
Who among us
Has compassion?
A safe place for a woman and her cat?
When the world buckles underneath you,
Who do you turn to when it makes you fall?
When the help you need the most is not the help family can give you?
Where do you go?
When you scream for help, but there is
None to be found.
~A.
November 2017