Posted in anxiety, community, crowdfunding, depression, emergency, eviction, family, friends, grief, history, homeless, homelessness, housing, life, poverty line, society, storage, urgent

9/23: Halp? #crowdfunding #emergency

***AUCTION IS COMING UP ON 9/27***

JUST OVER HALFWAY TO FUNDED GOAL!!!

Time is running out on getting funds before auction Thursday. Some semi-good news, though. Apparently PayPal DID override the “no P.O. Box” bull and I’m getting a new card after all. Bad news: it only mailed Saturday. I don’t know exactly when it will show up, but they say 7-10 days. So it may not get here in time for 9/27.

Despite a few people sharing posts, nothing has happened. I will maybe have some funds from today and tomorrow in the mix, but it depends on when those post to my account (have to do those jobs first, and then there’s a delay).

I’ve run out of being on their good graces in terms of letting me get away with partial payments and the like. I know I’ll need the full amount of roughly $1400. I have about $3 in checking and $.42 cents in PayPal. I’m not going to ask the handful of people who have sent larger chunks in the past as I know their patience with me has likely worn very thin.

To those I need to pay back: I will do so as soon as possible.

Everyone else, I still desperately need help. I have some family heirlooms in there that mean the world to me, along with items that are one-of-a-kind and mean more to me as they are a part of my memories (the good ones) from childhood. My costumes, music, sheet music (some out of print and were my mothers). While much of this may not have much in resale value, they mean everything to me. My mother’s copy of Handel’s Messiah, in book form, that’s ratty and well-used… and over 100 years old. Choir notes and all. My mother and I never really got along that well, but we had music in common. We’ve both sung Handel’s Messiah multiple times.

Nearly every item in that storage unit is worthless to the rest of the world… but not to me. Once I get into an apartment again, I’ll be able to move what’s left into a much smaller unit.

I just need the chance to do all of that. Reorganizing it, downsizing some of it, pulling what I need out as opposed to storing it… then keeping everything organizing so I can easily find what I need.

I just need that chance. If I lose it all, I won’t have that chance. So, I need help.

~A

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Posted in activism, anxiety, auction, community, conformity, crowdfunding, depression, disability, emergency, empath life, faith, friends, homeless, homelessness, individuality, life, observations, politics, poverty line, society, storage, urgent

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

[Before I get to politics, I need to raise the funds for storage before Monday because of transfer time for GFM and PayPal. Any sharing or donation is greatly appreciated. See the stickied note for more info. Basically: auction is on 9/27 and I don’t have my PP debit card, so everything has to be transferred over to my checking account. I have two days before the transfers will be too late.]

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

Posted in anxiety, auction, crowdfunding, emergency, homeless, homelessness, life, storage, urgent

6/27: just over 24 hours #crowdfunding

#crowdfunding quick post.

Auction is tomorrow at noon. I still need at least 300 to get to the halfway amount. Any and every bit helps. Best way is via the PayPal donation button here on the blog. You can also enter this email:

greatpenguini333 @ gmail. com

Just remove the spaces.

You don’t need a PP account to donate, just a credit/debit card.

Thank you everyone for putting up with me.

~A

Posted in anxiety, bugaboos, crowdfunding, depression, disability, emergency, homeless, homelessness, housing, life, observations, poverty line, society, storage, urgent

6/26: #crowdfunding and drama

#Crowdfunding still in urgent mode. Auction is less than 48 hours away. Once payment clears from last week, that’s 300, plus $135 from fb donations. I need to get at least $700 to pull it from auction. Any help is appreciated.

I’d have stuff written beyond begging, but we’re having some major drama here at the shelter. Lies, backstabbing, gossip, accusations, and that’s just today. I’m exhausted. Emotionally, physically, mentally.

I’m getting singled out and punished via lies and gossip for standing up to bullies. An email has been sent to the manager of the building. I have another task for tomorrow (no, it won’t clear in time) out on the west side and may not be back in time to talk to her.

It’s sinking in that this shelter is a microcosm of society.

You have the “popular crowd” that bullies and demands compliance with their way. The gossip and backstabbing is from them.

Then we have the outcasts. Those who choose to not play by their rules.

Then the main rule makers who run the show overall. Kind of the government, in a way. Break their rules, you get a punishment. I do my best to abide by their rules. One of them is “no gossip.”

I’ve been everybody’s elses’ doormat for most of my life. Now that I’m standing up to the bullies, starting with defending the other one getting bullied, I feel the backlash. The “popular girls” are able to manipulate and convince some of the staff that I’m doing all these bad things, which I’m not.

Hence my email.

Gotta step around the intermediary people and go right to the person in charge.

I’m tired.

All I want is to save my storage unit and stuff that brings me peace and comfort, then deal with finances and get out of here. To not be homeless anymore.

Again, thank you to everyone who has helped. Sharing, donating, it all helps.

~A

Posted in activism, anxiety, C-PTSD, chronic pain, community, depression, disability, domestic abuse, gender, health, history, life, medical, PTSD, semicolon, sexual assault, society

1/20/18: March For Me

March for me.
I survived.
But still I live
In fear of
Repercussions.

March for me.
I am disabled
And cannot walk far.

March for me.
I am anxious in crowds.
And my voice wavers.

March for me.
I have C-PTSD.
I cannot stand being
Touched by men.

March for me.
For walking is too much
For me to handle.

March for me.
For I cannot
March
For myself.

~A

Posted in activism, anxiety, community, depression, faith, family, friends, grief, homeless, housing, life, poetry, society, urgent, writing

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

Posted in anxiety, C-PTSD, cats, chronic pain, community, depression, disability, eviction, faith, friends, gender, health, history, individuality, job hunting, life, medical, Personal, PTSD, sexual assault, society

10/16: Wake Up Tomorrow #metoo

TW/CW: Talk of suicide, sexual assault, C-PTSD, etc…

I’ve talked about all of these things in spades over the lifespan of this blog. With the #metoo tag flying around on FB and Twitter the last two days, I felt like expanding on mine.

Now, I have (at some point) ticked off all the times I was sexually assaulted.

  • At 17, by a 22 y.o. acquaintance.
  • At 19, by a blind date. Tried to force me to perform oral on him, pushing my head down. I broke free and threatened to call the police.
  • At 19, by a guy I met at a Twelfth Night event… friends invited him to our Rocky Horror outing later that evening. While he had been in costume, he was mostly a gentleman (save for trying to un-lace my bodice in public)
  • At 21/22. After 6 weeks in an increasingly abusive relationship, I started to pull away from him, which he noticed. He spent the next 2 and a half months raping and assaulting me (using various areas of my body to ‘get his rocks off’) all against my will. I cried, I begged, I said no every damn time, but even making me bleed repeatedly didn’t matter to him. This happened 2-3 times a week… on a good week.

Those are the major, or most distinctive, events. Getting catcalled, being told by some older guy in Chicago (as we passed each other in the crosswalk) that “damn, you got some bigguns!” … no matter what I’m wearing, what my body language is saying (usually “don’t fucking get near me, asshole”), what I’m doing, I’ve had hands brush against my butt, breasts, etc… hands that should stay up near my shoulders wandering down… at a club one night (partly why I fucking HATE clubs) getting dragged out onto the dance floor and made to dance with some stranger, who kept putting his hand on my thigh and slipping it up to my hip under my skirt (which wasn’t that fucking long to begin with). I was 18, I think. It was an “Under 21” club.

Do I need to go on? I think I’ve made my point.

This shit happens every damn day to women of all skin colors, sexualities, cis or trans… you name it. Fuck, I got catcalled just a month or so ago… wearing all baggy grungy clothes heading to the MAX stop (I think I was going to an appt or something). Me with my mohawk and baggy clothes and beat up sneakers and a cane… getting catcalled.


I’ve also, as I think I’ve said in previous posts, had many phases or short contemplations of suicide. High school, a period in my 30’s when my asshole doctor decided to put me on Prozac, which made me want to slit my fucking wrists so badly, it outdid the suicidal ideations of my high school years. That shit fucked me up so badly.

In the past couple of years, I’ve had shorter bursts of contemplating it. Usually when I’ve been in full panic mode over possible eviction as well as earlier this year with the eviction itself. I lost count how many times I sat on my bed or my couch … or in the bathtub … thinking of why the fuck I should keep living? Then I got either of the girls, Portia or JoJo when she was still alive, just coming up to me and purring and either nudging me or tapping my arm or leg with a paw.


Life isn’t easy. I’m dealing with C-PTSD, my asshole ex cyberstalking me like I’m his damn “internet chew toy” … being homeless in a tentative situation that needs to come to an end, but my means to get back into my own place again are virtually non-existent. Trying to finish grad school, find decent work, organize my stuff in storage, handle medical and dental appts, go on tasks to make some income, and remember to take my meds and eat decently. Some of those, especially the later things I listed, are basic, normal-ish things I can handle… working all the big stuff around them is the hardest part. With chronic fatigue and pain, getting up at a decent hour that isn’t close to noon, but earlier in the day, is not always easy to do.


So, you may wonder what the subject heading of this post means… here’s my lesson and philosophy behind it:

Look back up at all the shit I’ve been through. Add verbal and emotional abuse by some family, used and abused by people I thought were friends, etc… I’ve dealt with a lot.

Wake Up Tomorrow

I adopted this years ago during a bad run… I think it was later in high school. Say you had one of THE shittiest days you can remember in recent months. Everything went wrong and in some seemingly catastrophic way, or at least that’s how it feels. You may already be battling a period of depression or severe pain. You contemplate ending things. You’re absolutely SURE tomorrow is going to also suck and you can’t imagine things getting better any time soon.

So you think about it.

But you can’t guarantee tomorrow will suck. Shit, you don’t know what will happen tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after that. Maybe it’ll suck, maybe it’ll be awesome, but you won’t know unless you wake up tomorrow. And the days following it. You can’t know for sure that it’ll be horrendously awful. Unless you wake up tomorrow. Go to sleep, get some rest, cry if you need to (man, I’m surprised the tear stains aren’t permanent on my face by now), and wake up tomorrow. Sounds simple, I know. Take each and every day as it comes.

Will that work for everyone dealing with shit? No. I know it works for me. I’ve had friends and a few strangers, in the past 24 hours or so, call me brave. I’ve done therapy off and on since I was 16. I understand so much about my past, but I don’t really know how I’m getting through it… except for one thing:

I wake up every day.

I’ve had close calls, due to medical stuff, not attempts on my part, and they’ve taught me this: Not everyone gets the chance to wake up the next day. No one knows when they’re going to die. The fact that, despite pain and all kinds of other things, I wake up every day and am able to feed my floofy monster kitty, that my heart is still pumping blood, my lungs are still taking in oxygen, my legs work… mostly. I have those days when my legs/back/feet/hips/knees/etc just rebel and go, “nope!! what was that about going somewhere today? yeah… not happening, bitch.”

Life isn’t easy. But I figure that as long as I keep waking up every day, I have a fighting chance to make things better. Never know unless you wake up.

~A

Posted in bugaboos, community, creativity, crowdfunding, dragon, emergency, eviction, friends, genealogy, grad school, history, homeless, housing, job hunting, life, music, Personal, research, storage, urgent, writing

9/6: No Soul-Sucking Allowed, Dammit (but #crowdfunding is)

I started this on Facebook, but opted to bring it over here. And yes, still #crowdfunding to get funds to save storage. 

This is only slightly tongue-in-cheek. Slightly.

My ideal work environment: not dealing with random humans. The occasional co-worker might be okay. I’m currently feeling a smidge Dragonish (i.e. anti-social), so occasional contact is okay.

And no cubicle farms. No/few phones. Email is preferred. I don’t stumble over my words as much. Also my foot doesn’t end up in my mouth as much. 

And not soul-sucking work. I’d like to keep my soul intact for a few more years. At least until I turn 50. Five more years is all I ask.

Let me enter data, do creative-ish things like websites or social media, have a variety of tasks/projects. Research. Gimme things to research. I lurv research. Just not medical, as they want bio degrees. I don’t have one of those. Research and write things. 

Pays well enough for me to move into a market rate studio close-in and cram the rest of my stuff into a smaller storage unit again. Also be able to pay for storage, utilities, Netflix and Hulu again, and eat without needing food stamps. Oh, and put money into savings and pay off a few bills.

*   *   *   *   *   *

Yeah… that shit would take a fucking miracle. I’m screwed.

~Dragon 

(Below is what I need to not lose my storage. Before the 15th)

Posted in chronic pain, community, creativity, crowdfunding, emergency, eviction, life, Personal, society, storage, urgent

5/16: running out of #crowdfunding time.

Share me! Help me make a miracle happen!

Quick begging- er- #crowdfunding post. My PT from yesterday has me down for the moment. Voc Rehab had to cancel as she is apparently out of the office… at least this time I checked my phone before leaving. *sigh*

What can I say to prove this is real? 

Here’s some of it, before the space you see got packed with furniture and more boxes. This really is virtually my whole life about to be auctioned away. My costumes and a few Steampunk projects, among so much more… 


I’m not sure where else to turn. Two days to pull off a miracle.

~Amanda 

Posted in activism, bigotry, community, crowdfunding, faith, life, peace, Personal, politics, society, storage

4/28: More on Peace & #crowdfunding

Crowdfunding… well, yeah. Are ya’ll sick of it yet? I know many of my friends are living paycheck to paycheck as it is… but my request is that even if you can’t donate, share my posts or the YouCaring campaign with people you know. Even if we have 40+ friends in common, you’ll have people among your friends that I won’t know and maybe they can help. (Most of what’s showing on the YC campaign has long been used for things like moving van, etc)

storage money owed: 642
AS of 4/15, this is what I owe. I don’t know if the auction fee was added by this point.

Now, more on Peace. I was in a strange frame of mind last night when I wrote that post. Here’s my deal: I grew up with bigotry, as I have stated many times, and while I don’t fully understand WHY people hate (and really, it’s likely as many reasons as there are bigots) I do know that it won’t get us anywhere if we keep up the hate and anger from all sides. Yes, bigots tend to incite violence. Did you see the article about Saffiyah Khan in England who approached one of the loudest bigots at a rally of theirs and just stood there, smiling? Be more like her. Deflect and protect yourself, but don’t throw the proverbial first punch. If you can’t control your anger, walk away. Please.

Do I slip up and go on angry rants and call shitty politicians and wannabe politicians nasty names? Sure. But I don’t attack in general. I am a die-hard Liberal, and grew up with Republican parents (My dad joked when I registered to vote, “where did we go wrong with you?” smiling the whole time. He was more liberal than his voting choices let others to believe).  During the election mess the last year or more, I noticed that some Republicans were really more middle-of-the-road than they’d like to think they are. So, knowing my dad and some of those politicians stances, I refuse to lump ALL Republicans together. I try not to, at least. Sometimes, they just need to take a step back and keep their mouths shut, lest they say something so insanely stupid I cringe.

I think what bothers me the most about many Republican politicians and their followers is that they try to claim themselves Christians, while spewing bigotry and judgment. But what did Jesus teach? Certainly not hate. Not bigotry. And judgment isn’t our job. For those who believe, judgment is God’s job, not ours. To call oneself a Christian, you must follow the teachings of Jesus. He taught love, acceptance, humility, among many other things. Not hate. If you’re going to call yourself a Christian, try following His teachings. I’ve read them, have you?

Back to Peace. The way that Saffiyah Khan handled herself was considerably more Christ-like than all of the shouting and hate and bigotry I’ve seen from people who consider themselves Christians. To hate so strongly, to use force against someone just because they’re different, to incite violence in the name of God… that is not what Jesus taught. Are there people of other faiths who show hate and use violence? Yes. I’m not denying that. But those individuals are a small fraction of the people of those faiths. I’ve seen more Muslims be helpful and kind in recent months than I have of people who consider themselves Christians. I know Atheists who are kinder. I also know some Atheists who hate as much as those from different religions.

We’ve done enough damage to ourselves and our planet with all of this hate. Don’t get me started on greed. That’s destroying the planet just as much.

We can do better.

We have to.

This is our only planet.

And underneath all of our differences, we bleed the same color of blood, have the same organs. You get the idea. Instead of stooping to the level of the bigots, be better. Show peace. Smile, as Saffiyah Khan did. We may not change it all over night, or even within one generation, but if we choose peace over violence, change for the better will happen.

~Peace Penguin