4/23/25

I’ve been unhoused for 2 years now. How I got “here” is a mixture of choices and circumstance. Or better put, s***** circumstances and the poor choices that followed

I have ambition. I work my ass off, I’ve held down 2 jobs most of my adult life. I just haven’t been able to outwork my life’s back to back calamity

I used to think I was unlucky, how can 1 person have so many things go wrong, every time, all the time. How many times will I have to start over from nothing before the next thing; illness, unexpected car repairs, disastrous relationship, comes and mercilessly knock everything over

I should not be so cynical but this warped sense of humor is the only thing that keeps me going. These days, I have to create a delusion so grand that this lifestyle doesn’t bother me.

I have to see the adventure in moving from hotel to Airbnb, back and forth. Sure all I can afford are seedy motels where the dealers and call girls side eye me as I walk by with my rolling suitcase, fluffy shih Tzu en tow.

I have to be satisfied with a day’s pay knowing that I don’t get to enjoy any of life’s luxuries. No vacations, no salons, no shopping really unless you count grocery stores. They usually have clean bathrooms, it’s a combo that can’t be beat in my position.

All these years later and I haven’t moved the needle, only managed to pay for housing, a working vehicle and food.

Some days I hear that alarm goes off and all I do is  hit snooze and take a few more minutes to myself, back to my dreams where nothing matters and I, the observer, am temporarily out of harm’s way until the buzzer sounds. This goes on for another hour at least before I feel ready to face the day; usually in the form of Mali in my face groaning she needs to go outside.

I shower and groom myself in silence. This delusion takes time and effort to put in  place

Now since the rest of my life is out of control, I am obsessive about my health; taking better care of me is all I can afford, that and web md

I start with my body care ritual, the only tangible love I have felt in years. I massage my skin with long strokes, effleurage, sweeping upwards toward my heart to help with my circulation. If I have time, I dry brush. Then, I anoint myself with extra virgin olive oil and essential oils and pray that one day soon my cup will run over. Slather myself in anti-aging this and plumping that, I perform facial expressions and squats as I dress in my daily uniform of comfortable pants and a t-shirt because I am still vain and obsessed with keeping a small waist and a round gym booty.

Which brings me to my next obsession, adequate protein and gomes. I don’t pluck my gray hairs though, it’s my pride to be as old as I am

After all that, I pack up my personal effects because I do not trust hotel staff to not rifle through my belongings.

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I drive anywhere from 8-12 hours a day. If I have the energy, I can go for 16 hrs. Just shuttling people and food around the city. Most days are uneventful, but every now and then I get the odd passenger with no boundaries asking me personal questions or worse, asking for my number. Or worse yet, the weekend vomiters.

While I drive, I plan my next move.

“How close am I to launch?…More editing, can’t afford a mistake…Did I eat enough protein today…” Because on top of all of this, I’m a perfectionist and this allows me sanctuary to never have to share my creations.

The passengers could be lighting a kerosene stove and roasting weenies and I wouldn’t notice until I pulled up to their destination.

None of this phases me anymore. At the end of the day I go back to my lonely hotel and walk Mali before stripping the sheets (because I refuse to sleep in other people’s bedding since watching a dateline special report where they used a blacklight in a hotel room and found some interesting spots)  take a shower and go to bed.

Am I living in a wish fulfilled?

I did ask for more freedom and time to pursue other interest

This is the most freedom I’ve ever had I’m making the most money I’ve ever made in my life, but the overhead eats it all up. This freedom has cost me my security and any peace of mind I had left

or maybe I’m in between unanswered prayers, an admitted agnostic expecting a miracle, from where? Who knows. It never hurts to ask though, right