I'm at a crossroads with school:

Do I proceed as planned and get the AA at the community college and transfer to get my BA in Human Services...

Or

Do I not get the AA and transfer to the University of Minnesota (if I get accepted) and use the 2 free years of tuition made for transfer students without degrees and pursue a BA in Anthropology instead??

The University has a bigger name for my resume but I am in the agency I would like to remain at for years to come so does that matter? Don't know. One program is more pratical and one is more interesting.

I'm also seriously considering traveling to the Spanish Immersion school in a few years as a few of my comrades have done. If not that, a summer doing the WOOFF program. I need some travel soon, and I'd like to make it international this time...

I don't want life and opportunities to pass me by.

As I am getting closer to closing on this house, I am having a familiar flight feeling. A panic that makes me second guess the whole thing. I mean, what if I want to spend a few months traveling next year (unlikely!) or what if I save up and quit everything and move to Los Angeles once our friends are settled back in...But then I remind myself that once the market improves and I have some years under my belt with the house, I can always sell and will most likely leave with a profit.

It's just the thought of being tied down that makes me uneasy - I mean, 30 year mortgage??!!? GAH! In the past, I've been a up and travel in the spur of the moment type of person. Obviously becoming a parent and being broke for years curbed that lifestyle but I haven't lost the dream, that's for sure. I suppose that I could rent out the house for a summer to some college if the urge ever overtakes me and we need to hit the road.

In some ways, it feels like I am expecting a new baby. I'm getting prepared - ready to nest, have been window shopping accesories and necessary items and preparing for the future. It's fun to plan out how MY house is going to improve over the years as I update areas and add paint and fix up the yard, etc., etc. It's something that I have wanted for so long, and nearly had in my early 20's, but just haven't been able to realize since moving to Minnesota. The time is nigh.

While housing hunting last week, we toured 2 houses that were kind of sobering. Each seemed normal from the outside but when we came in - it became apparent that they were single family homes turned into boarding houses for people making very little income. The basements were a death trap with multiple rooms in each that had been cobbled together with no escape route if there were a fire. These are the types of living arrangements that the undocumented guys end up getting if they get out of the shelter and into "housing". I'm not sure why but I had envisioned that they were renting a room in a place with other men but not this. Moldy basements. Tiny rooms. No way out.

I've been kind of depressed since seeing those if only for fear of what could happen in a fire. And the thought that all of those people will soon be displaced as well - I'm assuming they were each foreclosures or a landlord selling despite the fact that there are renters living in their homes.

Everytime my boss says "Wowie Zowie!" I think of someone smoking a big joint ala "Up in Smoke" and laugh. She's dropped it twice already today.

Another silly statement a client has been using is "You told a Whopper Jr.!". He uses it if he thinks I ok'ed something (when I didn't) and I remind him that it's not going to happen (whatever "it" might be).

I learned in the past few weeks that the preferred method of catcalling is by hollering "Hey Momma!" out yer window. Followed up by the loud smooch emitted out the window, which, by the way, I find pretty impressive. I can barely get my voice to carry across a lane of traffic to the sidewalk much less get my lips to emit a noise loud enough to travel to a target of superficial affection.

Luckily, I'm not the type to be offended by this type of thing. It makes me laugh more than anything - anyone remember the "Hey! Can I smell your seat?!" catcaller??? Jeesh! For those who know me well enough, know that I do not think of myself as womenly, as a sexual being and generally feel like I look dumpy and plain if not invisible in that way. Just recently have I taken to try to up my style again. Years ago, I used to always do my own hair, wear some bright red lipstick, dress cute and feel pretty confident. But then things happened and my self-esteem took a shit and I stopped giving a damn. Then I became a single mom for years and money was stretched beyond what I could handle and I cared even less. Currently, I still don't give much of a damn but I've been dressing up for myself.

I recognize that most catcallers most likely hoot at anyone with T&A so I don't take it personally, for sure. Which is why I find it funny when it happens, if not a bit annoying as well. Same with those types that hit on people in the same fashion - like they've tried everyone else and move on to the next person or the most vulnerable looking person and try again. Stoopid.

I've been drawn to color and the thought of surrounding myself in it.

Case in point, the Gurglepot. Don't really need one but I love the vibrant colors and the design of them. They remind me of Fiesta Ware.

Greta McClain's beautiful paintings of migrant farmworkers, currently being displayed at the May Day Cafe.

The letterpress prints at Yee Haw make my day.

My newest tattoo already holds so much color and it's not even finished yet. By the time it's done it will have reds, oranges, black, greens, blues, yellows and possibly pink!

Ariana and I found two gems recently: A purple sparkly glitter Selle Italia saddle for $2.99 at "the army" and a clearance belt with a buckle that has a photo of a Lucha Libre wrestler in blue surrounded by glitter and flowers and cased in clear plastic material. I wasn't going to get it cuz belts with buckles make me feel like a Buckle Bunny (even though they don't wear them, I still feel weird!) but Ariana insisted!

Doing the front desk at the women's organization I work for today, been getting some weird calls:

- A guy referred to us because he wanted to recycle a tv.

- An elderly woman who wanted to donate tons of incontinance pads, the ones that she doesn't like. Unused, of course.

- A woman who wanted financial assistance with her car insurance.

- A woman who wanted to donate professional clothes but inquired about a pair of pants without the hem. She kept wanting to discuss said hem and pants but I told her to go ahead and bring them although I told her (in a nice way) that I wasn't sure that the women in shelter or trans would want to deal with sewing them. She stated that she does it...but still, these ladies are stressed out, chasing young'ens around and probably don't even HAVE a sewing kit. I'm not sure why she thought that the hemless pants were so important. Just bring them, or don't. Simple.

- A woman who was updating information about our agency and asked me questions whose answers were all almost on our website. I had to keep putting other lines on hold to answer her silly questions. GAH!

I've taken the first steps to possibly buying a house - I'm in the process of being reviewed for a pre-approval for a loan. Once this is done, I can begin setting up appointments to view places. I have a few in mind already but am holding off getting too anxious.

If my credit is still too shakey and I can't be pre-approved, I will find out what the heck I need to do to improve my standing and focus on that for the upcoming year.

It's all kind of scary but hopefully better for us in the long run.

Last night, I worked my shift then stayed for the overnight. Saturday nights mean that we go to bed at Midnight. Once the guys were tucked in, I finally dozed off when the doorbell begin persistantly blaring at 1am. I ignored it for a moment hoping that the person would realize that we were "closed" for lack of a better word but no luck. So I answer, "hello?" The person, a woman, is asking for a guest to come up. I explain that we can't confirm if someone is here or not begin to explain that doors are shut for the evening and no one is to come or go, she cut me off telling me his support staff position, which I know. Once she heard that I would not be getting him nor sending him up she barraged me with a few "Fuck yous". How sweet.

Got called a bitch this morning, oh, that's a "FUCKING Bitch" which actually I missed when it happened, thankfully. I was called this because I went to ask 2 men who were arguing over a soda that may or may not have been stolen from one man by the other, who happen to normally be friends. I first asked them to lower their voices because the rest of the room of 30 some people still had at least a half an hour to sleep. They continued. Then I made the statement that I had 2 sodas stolen in the past month and wasn't arguing with any of them, to make the point that it wasn't worth it, arguing that is. Apparently this annoyed one of them. Maybe it *was* a dumb statement, spurred by inpatience at their lack of regard for the other guests and carrying on the silly arguement for nearly a half an hour but not worth being called a fucking bitch over, that's for sure. I should have just asked what would make this person feel redeemed, a replacement for the lost soda, etc...
I was informed of my new title by 2 other guys who overheard it. This is the type of thing that we know not to take personally but sometimes it's a challenge in the moments following it - especially when you've been nothing but kind and accomadating to the person who says things like that.

One thing that helps deflect the shitty feeling after things like this happen, is the security in knowing that we all (social service providers) have dealt with it and I'm not alone.

Which brings me to something that I've thought a lot about since I started working in the field (back at SIREN in 2006). The psychology of poverty and homelessness and how it affects persons living in it and how they interact with those around them, dynamics of street relationships and how their persona changes depending on where they are (various shelters, drop-in centers, hanging with street friends vs. talking with shelter staff). I'm trying as hard as possible to gain understanding of all of this as to better equip me to deal with things such as the above arguement - it might very well be that the person that called me a fucking bitch is also on edge because his bed ends tonight and he is stressed out and that pushed him over. Or maybe he called me that because his bed is up tonight and he no longer has to front to staff and his true personality is out right now.

Of course, as usual, there could be a dozen answers.

When I last wrote, I was leading into a scary cab ride to the hostel near the Marina District of SF. Now I'm lacking steam to type it all out. So there.

Whilst out in the Bay Area, I read an editorial written by a youth worker for at-risk population in Oakland. He was talking about how a group was planning to come from Oregon to protest at the hearing of the cop who shot an unarmed man, Oscar Grant, in a BART subway station.

This writer spoke out about these activists coming in and riling up the people who actually live in the neighborhoods, in turn opening up the potential for youth, in particular, to get caught up in trouble that they would ultimately pay for and in which they may have never done in the first place without the antagonization. At first, I was a little puzzled. Then I paused and tried to imagine his side and it started to make more sense.

I don't 100% agree with his anger regarding a group that was trying to ultimately show support for Oscar and his family I can see how it could impact the community if things get out of hand.

Just a point of view that I hadn't considered in a while.

It was nearing 11:30 at night when we stumbled out of the San Francisco airport on Sunday evening, the rest of the US was passed out from their 4th of July activities earlier that day. It was cold and windy, 57 degrees to be exact.

I debated our options - the BART would take us as far as downtown but then we would have to hoof it for a few miles carrying bags and basically looking like sitting ducks...in a city I've only been to one other time. We could try to find a shared shuttle bus to the Wharf that may be bringing other travellers to that district. Or we could catch a cab and pay a large fare.

We crossed the drop off/pick-up zone and continued towards the cabs. Fuck it. I just want to get to the hostel, I thought to myself. A man spoke to me in a russian/eastern european accent - $45 to San Francisco.... We accepted. He loaded our bags into the trunk. I took note of his license plate that indicated that he was a "livery taxi". Once inside the car, it was dark and silent. My mind started to wander and thoughts of the movie Taken began flashing through my mind. It was just me and my 7 year old daughter, virtually helpless in a large urban area where I only knew 2 people, both via the internet. I gave the driver the address and he punched it into his GPS and immediately got onto his cell phone and began speaking to someone in Russian as he sped through the streets and highway. I handed myc cellphone to Ana and told her to keep ahold of it just in case something happened. Shortly after, my phone spontaneously went dead. I did start to panic at this point - rational or irrational, I couldn't tell. My mind was racing and I was thinking of different scenarios or escape routes/ideas, THEN, he whips into the long driveway to the hostel near Fisherman's Wharf and deposits us at the steps. I handed him $80 bucks and booked it. He seemed pretty happy at this tip. I just wanted to get the fuck out of there and into a bed at that point. Whew. Fucking movies!

This week I interviewed for a PT job at a sister shelter, 1 question asked "what do you like most about working at SS?" I answered truthfully but later realized a better answer: it is one of very few jobs that I've had where I don't ever dread coming in (the exception being the few weeks while a sticky situation with a client was happening).

I stopped by this morning to water some newly planted flowers and Ariana commented about how much she likes it there too. A client helped me stretch the hose so the flowers didn't get crushed and we chatted. I'm a lucky gal.

Back trip planning, flight is in 3 hours...

I found this great resource today about maintaining health while living on the streets, info that is around, but I like the way these are put together...

Booklets and leaflets.

As I sat out the light at Franklin and Chicago yesterday a young'en to my right starts talking in some kinda smooth talk and says "Ooo, pretty lady, you could make sooommmeee monnney.." or something equally gross and to that effect.
What's worse, I think I recognize that player - his cuz brought him to town from Chicago and we crossed paths at work once. I know that street life ain't pretty but I suppose it always holds a story. And hell if there aren't dozens of stories hanging around Frankin and Chicago!

Sometimes I wish I weren't a woman - partially because I know that most men ain't looking for someone or something special, they are just looking because someone is there and is a woman. And in this case, looking to capitalize off of a woman; even worse!

Sometimes I wish I were invisible (in general).

Factoid: I've now officially had at least 5 aquaintances or strangers tell me that I look like Catherine O'Hara. It's no longer an isolated incident. Mommy?

LOOK! It's a antique fansite built on Tripod!

Had a sad conversation tonight with the man we've been working with to get his immigration paperwork pushed through so he can work legit and provide for his wife who stays up north. It was denied again - he sat and cried as he talked to me about not getting it, he is scared to call and tell her. I started to tell him that it would be all right but would it? I don't know that. Why do they make it so hard and so expensive? (I have my theories but who am I?).

Racial tensions are rising at the shelter again, that's always frustrating. Every single one of these groups would be offended if the other called them names but turn around and do it to one another. Two wrongs don't make a right. No one group is better than the other, they are just all different in their own ways.

We barely stopped moving all night, I think it took my co-worker and I nearly an hour to gobble up 2 slices of pizza because there was non-stop action. Good weight loss plan, I suppose.

On the bright side, while there was rain, I didn't have to drive home in a flash flood like I did last night as I was leaving the bookstore in Highland Park. I came home to no power until the wee hours of the morning. My lackluster candles left me yearning for a old timey lantern of some sort. Finally, I laid in bed and read with a flashlight until I got sleepy and called it a day.

I've had a little more time to enjoy the mornings and afternoons this week.

Ariana has been attending Project Girl day camp at Intermedia Arts learning about positive body image, doing art, and girls that are in hip-hop and graffiti, etc.. This means that I am going back out to drop her off and picking her up just on the cusp of the afternoon turning into rush hour.

Yesterday we rode bikes in and enjoyed a calm, mild morning. On the way back, we rode in the rain, Ana riding through puddles trying to splash and spray me, laughing as she zoomed by. We took a break at Freewheel and the Midtown Global Exchange where we got veggies and snacks. Just like old times, before we started driving again. Our days were filled with bus stops and bike rides. We'd find fun stuff on the ground (even money!), played with stray cats and had time to bond each and every day. I keep telling myself that I need to stop using the van so much but all of the appointments and jobs I have cause me to have to be from one side of town to the next within a short amount of time and I hate being late! There is also the added point that Ana can't bike with me everywhere (especially if it's time senstive) - it's not like the old days when I could just hook her on the back of my bike in the trailer...

I suppose that soon enough, she will be a teenager and won't want to accompany me around anymore anyway...but maybe that's all the more reason to increase our time together now.

Things that make my life more enjoyable:

- Peanut Butter Twix
- Pineda Tacos - Carnitas with cilantro and onion to be specific
- $$$
- Good coffee
- Having a surplus of good books ready to be read
- Street fashion blog updates
- Playing in my garden, bring home greens which leads to that high pitched guinea pig squeal that makes me laugh
- A flexible work schedule
- Having something to look forward to (and the ability to do it) - i.e. Travel
- Funny podcasts - i.e. Savage Lovecast, my fav. Someday I'll add to that compilation of classic quotes...

As our trip to SF is rapidly approching, I found out yesterday that we'll need to postpone LA.

My friend's advisior died so he's been asked to stay and teach at the U longer than anticipated. Since they are LA natives and inherited a house in Hollywood, we are to stay with them. We had the option to go alone, probably including staying at their place, but I want to hang out with them as well as explore with just Ariana and I.

The plus side to this is that they are going back in the middle of winter so we are looking at Jan or Feb for our trip - it would be nice to get out of this place at that point in winter - a week or so would be perfect.

It's possible I'm a changed person when one of my first thoughts, along with noting to self not to wear my leaky tennis shoes, as I see the forecast or roll out of bed to rain is of the guys I know standing around the day labor line for a chance to work construction, the moving company or other similar jobs for a chance to make some money. When it rains, jobs are sparse.

And another of a man I know who is staying in a tent down by the river (he prefers it over the shelter and it's near the VA Hospital where he goes for appointments often) and hoping that he is warm and dry. He laughs when I worry at him about staying safe and dry but definately accepts socks and clothes as needed. And in the winter, he was around the shelters, so he has his safety and well being in mind.

And now we have the young man who is dealing with some sort of mental health issue(s) that we haven't identified yet - last week I stopped in and saw him standing in the rain with his fleece shirt pulled up over his head, rather than going to the drop-in center and staying dry or some other facility like the library, etc.. He's also been found sleeping outside the building next door at all hours. Last night he wandered in, we fit him in, expecting his behavior. After I showed him where his bed was for the night, I walked by to him trying to go to sleep with no linens whatsoever. I gathered up his sheets, a pillow and blanket and brought them to him but I'm not sure what's going on with him - he's stayed with us before, he knows how to find these things and what our protocol is for getting a bed but seems unable to go through with these tasks right now. ????

I totally feel like a brand new person now that I'm a couple of weeks in of dropping that third, on-call, job. I didn't realize how much it was affecting me negatively until I made the move - after that, a huge weight lifted off of me and I could breathe and laugh again.

Tonight was one of those nights where I really have to work hard to keep my judgements and personal ideas and feelings in check.

A few months back, one of our long-term or "extended stay" shelter guests joked that he saw so and so with "his girls" over by the Branch (a drop-in center for homeless and others). I was convinced that he was exaggerating and was like "Nuh-huh! Are you serious, not "so and so"!! Then I stopped myself and told that person, "Nevermind! I don't want to know, the less I know the better..."

Fast forward to tonight. So and so was around for the first time since winter essentially, tried to get a bed but no luck as of the time I left but was going to try back at the end of the night if no one showed...

I left work, driving my usual route home - East on Franklin Ave. to Bloomington Ave. and I see "so and so" walking with a woman that would most likely not be his lady friend (I could be wrong, and I hope I am).

Hrmph. Maybe R was right after all. But I need to remind myself that what each person does outside of the shelter is their own deal, their own business, their own life. And maybe I can apply the "Rule of Six" and come up with 6 possible reasons someone would be involved in such a "business". With him, one reason is to most likely support his young daughter who his living in Southern Minnesota and another is to support himself as I suspect he is undocumented and one related, maybe he is sending money back to his native country, to family?

Who knows. I'm not going to ask. Not my place to get involved unless he brings it to the shelter...

Travelling trash:

Ariana and I shared a laugh last night about our goofy neighborhood. You see, this weekend there was a small "kiddie tobagan" sitting atop our SW-most neighbor's trash can. Later that day we saw it on our most NW-most neighbors trash can - it had travelled a full block North only to be discarded again.

Ariana had also made a comment about a red crate she had seen a few houses down, leaning against a garage, she noted that she figured that the man who makes a revolving art installation in his front yard will probably take it.

A day later we saw it leaning against his garage. Monday, we saw a little pedal car at our NW-most neighbors trash cans (the same one who had the kiddie tobagon for the 2nd time)....last night we saw it's undercarriage at the house directly behind us. It had travelled a full block south through the alley.

I can't figure out and understand what would make a cyclist veer out in front of a car that is within 1 to 2 car lengths to join the lane and ultimately get in front of said car,(Ex. to prepare for a left turn) without some sort of hand signal to indicate movement. Not only is it dangerous, it's arrogant behavior and most likely would piss most drivers off and rightfully so.

And with that, the same goes for cyclists who blatantly run stop signs in front of waiting cars without a stop themselves or even a pause or a nod. I run stop signs, I do. But if there are cars sitting there or approaching at the same time, I stop then proceed as it's my turn. If there is any way that we will advocate for equal rights and sharing the road - it is by being polite and following common sense when there are drivers around. Even more frustrating is when one cyclist stops at a stop sign and another barrels through and nearly takes out the person who has the right away - sort of like the jackasses who do the same thing at the 5th St. Greenway crossing. Bullshit.

Just had to vent - saw some dumb move this morning that reminded me of all of the above.

It's been a little wild over at Powderhorn lately. Bullfrogs mating. Ariana and I stumbled across a turtle laying eggs in a very open area, got a couple of pictures then left her in peace...until the next little kids came along. Last night, a man caught a goose and carried it over to impress his family - they all jumped away squealing. Funny.

34. In 2 months, I will turn 34. In some ways, I am surrendering to the idea of aging. I've now got an old lady-ish pannier for my bike - as I walked away from the counter at the Hub, the worker congratulated me on "not having a sweaty back anymore" which I laughed at because it's so true.

I can barely fit into any pants at H&M anymore and some of the other stuff would look like I'm trying too hard to look young. I find myself going to stores that offer more mature clothing that will accencuate my curves not make me look like an aging hipster. Never really wanted to look like a hipster either way...but especially not now. The last time I was at a basement show was 2 years or so ago but that's more because I needed to get my social anxiety driven drinking under control since it was getting the better of me at a time when I wasn't feeling very strong emotionally and now, I barely know any bands that have been coming and going. I'm sure I'm not missing much but the social interaction can be refreshing but I guess I've found it alienating as well since I'm not around often and cannot ever be due to parenting. It was always nervewracking, going out if not among close friends.

I've given up the idea that I will ever travel willy-nilly again but am looking forward to a new brand of travel, with my daughter next to me - both exploring new places for the first time. Once she's grown or near it, the world is mine as long as I have the money and the time off. I yearn to move about the states and the world but have to also settle for the reality that this scenerio probably isn't realistic. But that won't stop me from at least taking some time to explore.

I'm also more sure of what I want for my future - stability. In my career, financial and in my personal life. After many years of barely staying afloat, I never want to be in that position again and I will do whatever it takes to not be. I would love to experience the joy that people describe when having a baby with a partner who is excited and loving and takes part in every aspect - willingly and happily. I'm trying to get over the feeling that a part of my life with Ariana was robbed from me (and her) because I've always had to bust my ass to support us which then stole away from being able to be home with her or to go out and have more good times. I would have loved to have the opportunity to stay at home with her more often and go out and do fun things together. I also see and hear about men who would do anything to support their family and I am envious. Not sure what I've done to not find that but it sure would be a nice feeling to have that security sometime before I'm dead and gone. I struggle with frustration surrounding this one almost daily. Having someone to share dreams with and have them actually come to fruiation would be nice and comforting.

I suppose growing older calls for accepting a lot of things for what they are and moving on if we can't change them. Trying not to let bitterness and anger ruin the good things. I find that, as always, having a lot of alone time helps me feel more balanced.

In my quest to become more womanly, I've been scouting out some heels that are hott, functional, and don't make me look like a stripper. Not an easy task. I'm going more for the 50's chic.

Next up is to find a sassy bathing suit for our upcoming trip to Los Angeles - I'm thinking an old style one-piece that would also look cute with heels.

In other news, I have an appointment to get some blank space on my right arm filled in - my tattoos on my arms are kind of here and there and it's been bothering me so I've decided that I would rather fill in that space and be done. I'm getting a Spanish themed sleeve with Sugar Skulls as the focal point and things like roosters and who knows what else to compliment it. I'm way excited!!!

/ Interesting, historic article about Minneapolis in the 1920's The photos come from the Minnesota Historical Society which reminds me - I've been meaning to go there and the Hennepin History Musuem. Maybe this weekend...

/ I'm bewildered - My office for my day job is on a one way street that happens to head north and the street is situated one street off of one of the Greenway entrances. This produces a lot of bike traffic - since it's a one way, there seems to be a willy-nilly sense of where to ride. We get them on the sidewalk as well as both sides of the street. My natural inclination is to ride on the right. Particularily on this street as there are cars parked on the left.
There is no signage as to what is the proper protocol and I've been trying to decide what that would be. I think it would be valuable to post it as it causes problems when you get multiple cyclists and they are peppered on the left, on the right and up on the sidewalk. It can be kind of a mess when all the riders come to an intersection or cars are trying to safety navigate around them. I myself ran into this the other day as a cyclist - I was on the street, a man was on the sidewalk - we both met at the Chicago and 31st intersection at the same time. Luckily we were able to navigate and give enough space but if someone wasn't paying attention, a little collison could potentially happen.

It was a beautiful morning for a bike ride. I felt kind of bad passing the old dude on a rickety mountain bike that was clearly too small for him but had to do it. I greeted him as I passed in a guesture of solidarity and in an attempt to not seem like I was trying to barge by.

We finally had a chance to get to ourgarden, I got some of the weeds out and put rich soil around my plants. So far what I have in looks great despite having planted it early! I need to pick up tomato and pepper plants this week. It's basically a salsa and salad/guinea pig garden this year. I also have edamame and sugar snap peas for snacking. I am most exicted right now to harvest our garlic and onions!

Last night, the little lady and I took another evening walk - this time the toads were less active at the park but were still humming and toading around.

You know, the more I think about it, the more I am pissed off about my newest job. The on-call position at the GRH (Group Residential Housing facility for chronic alcholics).

For example, when we work an 8 hour shift - our lunch break consists of sitting in the lunchroom observing residents. We can eat, that's it. No books, no crossword, can't leave the room. On top of that, when ones shift starts at 4pm, that's when dinner is. You have the choice to go in for a 1/2 hour at 4 or 4:30. Period. Friday, I worked a 12 hour shift with no break. The bullshit that the guys deliver isn't worth the working conditions.

I'm going to work a couple more months, save up money for our trip to L.A. then I'm done. It's stressing me out too much and the experience is too negative in general.

Yay! 2 days off in a row!

Today, the child and I were able to get out on our bikes and ride together. Our friend's were having a b-day party for their 1 year old across town. M's parents were in town from L.A. so her mom and I talked about how things could be if I were to move there. Of course, at the end, I was forced to again recognize the biggest barrier, the rent prices out there. They all live right in Hollywood which I'm sure is higher still. Her husband works two jobs to support his family and has to drive an hour out to one of them. Struggle. I do enough of that here, don't know if it would be worth it in the long run.

Once we got home, we grabbed the dog and headed to Powderhorn Park - once there, we were pleasantly surprised at the toads who were dutifully singing in chorus - mating season. They were also very easy to catch due to their state, bonus!

Tired.

Working here at the "Wet House" is starting to make me weary of men just a little more. I'm sure I'm just tired but some of it is the verbal abuse and disrespect that some of these guys deliver. It's ridiculous. I suppose I knew when I signed up that it would be a challenge. There is also the man I discovered um, fooling around with himself as I sat at the desk - I was wearing a t-shirt and a sweater and pants that fit but not tight or suggestive so I'm not accepting any responsibility fo this one. Fuck. Actually, now that it's the next day (editing post), I'm not taking the person who berated me seriously either. He just snapped at nothing and felt it necessary to tell me that now he "knows he hates me". Fine, hate me. I don't give a heck. I'm there to pay bills and save money, nothing else. It's not the environment I would want to build my career in so at this point, leaving that job means little to me.

Tonight, I am just tired and the 12 hour shift on little sleep isn't helping. I also was working through frustration with A's dad the evening before and found out earlier today that A may be held back a grade, the only exception being if she continued in an academic support summer program. This may or may not happen as now they are filling up and I just found out today that the teacher is asking that.

I wish I hadn't taken this 3rd job for many reasons - A fell behind in her schoolwork with a lack of support from the person staying home with her, I was too tired when I was home, I fell behind in my own homework and did less than ideal in my courses and now I am starting to feel angry, weak, a lack of good sound judgement and just simply annoyed with the people I'm supposed to be helping. I'm just tired and the lack of rest is really taking a toll.

A good article about Cometbus and Aaron Elliot - probably only relevant if you know who and what that is.

BOOK REVIEW:

Border Crosser: One Gringo's Illicit Passage From Mexico into America by Johnny Rico

In my efforts to learn more about border politics and take in personal accounts of people who have crossed over the lines by means other than the offical entry points, I picked this one up recently. I wasn't sure what to expect but figured it could be interesting to hear a story of crossing as a white person who isn't crossing for survival or in search of a better life but is doing so to understand the trip and the difficulty and struggle.

The book didn't quite deliver what I was seeking. Johnny never did a true border crossing so the part of the story I was seeking never materialized. He did offer a generally funny narrative of his interactions with Minutemen and La Migra as well as locals in Nogales to note a few and the multiple times he wussed out on a plan to cross here or there was funny if not ironic - thousands of men, women and children do it each year but this one man couldn't muster up enough courage to complete a true "border jump"? Heck, I have a friend who came over from Guatemala with her mother as a 5 year old! She is now a citizen, for those who care, but it took her mother and her nearly 8 years to complete the process, and this was AFTER her mother married a U.S. citizen, I can see why some people just say fuck it and never bother.

I probably wouldn't pick it up again but I'll add it to my bookshelf for future reference if the need ever arises.

Alrightly then!

I was just telling someone, okay, my counselor, a week or two ago that sometimes I'm "so surrounded by dysfunction, I forget what it's like not to be..." and lo and behold that very thing popped to mind yesterday after a situation manifested and grew beyond my capabilities to put a stop to. My boss uttered a statement about mental illness that brought it back into perspective. I'm not sure why I am so dense about this stuff sometimes. Guess it's part of my own dysfunction that I need to keep in check and be very aware of.

Blarg.

Last Friday, I pulled into the shelter parking lot, returning from an outing to an art gallery with two clients.

I noted 3 guys sitting up against the garage door - one of which was signed up for the outing. As I walked up to chat, I heckled him for missing out. I was familiar with 2 of the 3. The guy I hadn't met, reached his hand up to me. I could tell he was pretty intoxicated and soon noted the tallboy of Steel Reserve sitting between his feet. I kneeled down and took his hand, he pleaded with me to help his wife and family. I asked where they were - he told me that they were staying at a nearby shelter. All I could do was reassure him that the staff over there would do whatever they could to help them. I hope that he trusts in that and feels that they are in a safe space.

I soon found myself gathering up a blanket for him as he had stated to me that he planned to sleep outside that night. It turned out that we were able to give him a bed and once that happened, he curled up and went to sleep for the rest of the night. In doing this, I did bend the rules but he seemed distraught and wasn't being obnoxious or overtly intoxicated so that the other guests knew. I've grown to be stringent on the rule to be able to enforce our policy to be a sober shelter and to be consistant with that rule (A lot of guests struggle to stay on the right path (for them, at the time) and stay sober and a slip-up could be a set back).

It's crazy how much comes out when someone has been drinking, I've seen more men crying in the last 6 months than I have in my lifetime. Even when they put on the tough guy front, the emotions spill out at some point, I suppose.

Sunday morning found me driving around the city looking for a blasted coffee shop that was open. First, I swung over to my neighborhood hot spot, the May Day Cafe. No luck, still have nearly 10 mintutes. Next, I drove over to Butter, a little out of my way but still semi-en route to work...my prospects were even worse there, I still had almost 30 minutes till the doors would open. Cafetto saved me finally.
Now today, I hear of a new development - the South City Cafe!! This little joint will be opening on the corner of 34th and Chicago any day now. And they open at 7am!

Random.

/ With the previous weeks lack of quality sleep and upped anxiety and stress, I've been having a return/increase in night terrors. One involved me dreaming about then waking half up thinking there was a man with a metal tool with silver wavy prongs on it getting ready to swing down onto me - I know I said something outloud as I was in the middle of it but I don't remember what. It took more than a few minutes to come out of that one. Luckily, everyone is used to it and just tells me to shut up (not literally, of course). Many laughs have been had at my expense over the years, including from myself, because if you can't laugh, what can you do?

/ I'm beginning to learn to stick my fingers in my ears and close my eyes when it comes to the guy's backgrounds and activites on the street - the less I know, the better. Denial, it's not just a river in Africa. Unless there is a 'need to know' to assist them better or maintain shelter/housing rules, I will disregard it.

/ School - final project time and both of my in-progress projects have had wrenches thrown in. Can't get an interview for my writing class, no one is available or will return my call/e-mail. I hate bothering people so I may be stuck interviewing someone who was a last resort (the object is to interview someone in a career we are interested in and this person is doing something that I am only semi-interested in). The other project fell behind when I had to miss my group's meet-up to consolidate information. Christ! I can't fall behind now, the semester is nearly over!!

/ In continuing my independent study - I recently started Luis Alberto Urrea's first book, "Across the Wire: Life and Hard Times on the Mexican Border". It's been pretty eyeopening thus far. He talks about missionary work he did in the 80's and the families that live in the dumps in Tijuana in particular. In these dumps, not only is there garbage (which the families glean their belongings and food from) but they also slaughter and burn animals there amongst the shacks, rotten flesh mingling with their water and food supply when the rains come and mud forms, blue acrid smoke rising from the pile of bodies as they burn. Luis is able to describe this in just enough detail that you start to gag while imagining it.

/ Sometimes I forget that not everyone knows how to read, 2 men come to mind right away and I know there are more than I even know about. When I spoke to one about a month ago, I had asked if there was anything we could do to help him with it and I've thought about it since - he is nearly 40 and has gotten along so far, at this point, I don't think he wants to pursue it. From what I gather, it's the same situation with the other gentleman, he kind of just wants to let it go and will ask for assistance when needed. Then I wonder if I want them to learn because I feel like they are missing out when, maybe in reality, they may not even care to ever learn. But then I think about how empowered they could feel if they took that step but it's not my job to pressure them, only to help when and if they are ready.

/ More crisis this weekend:

1. A former shelter guest came in, his antidepressants were changed and he was feeling very off, on top of that, he had just moved into a board and lodging unit, which means that he shares a room and has some shared facilities - he had been able to maintain soberity while staying with us and seemed to be doing well. He came in this weekend and had drank that day and was feeling suicidal but kept reassuring me that he wouldn't do anything. I didn't even have a tissue to lend him when he started tearing up. When it comes down to it, it can be challenging to know what to say as you're letting someone talk and trying to both be there for them and determine a risk. He finally agreed that going to the hospital was the best option and arrangements were made.

2. Later that night, a woman came up to me in the parking lot. I asked if I could help her and she started crying, telling me that she needed a place to stay. She had lost her housing that day or the evening before and had spent the day in her car crying and trying to figure out what to do. I whisked her into an office and determined that it wasn't related to Domestic Violence, that narrowed down her options. No young children and no DV means that shelters are few. Luckily, the women's shelter nearby had space that evening when I called for her. Again, there were no tissues as she cried, wondering how she could be 46 years old and have this happen to her. What do I say to that?? In the end, I didn't feel horrible sending her away as I knew that she was in good hands at the shelter she was en route to.

Dear butthighs:

Why must you foresake me? Years of haphazardly purchasing youthful clothing has come to an end. Legs and abs that used to house muscles now hold chub. I must work hard not to fall victim to the horrific mom jeans and applique sweatshirt crowd. My desire for black skinny jeans has been squashed as I yank them up only to find they won't move...I find myself combing the racks both at retail and thrift level desperately seeking a pant that fits. At home, I throw garments across the room in frustration and stomp around, scaring anyone in my path. All because of you, butthighs. I foresee a life a fast paced walking, sprinting on my bike and stairsteppers in my future...

Book Review:

The Devil's Highway by Luis Alberto Urrea

I read this book a month or so ago - throughout the entire book, I could barely put it down because I wanted to know what would happen next.

The book tells the story of the Yuma 14, as the group of men who died are referred to, and how their deaths came to be. The group started out with 26 men (Wellton 26) who were trying to cross the border through the Sonoran Desert in Arizona. Some were crossing to emigrate for good, some were just planning to work the summer then bring the money home to rebuild housing, etc...
Due to some careless and inexperienced Coyotes (the men/boys who are paid big bucks to lead/traffick crossers over the border), the group was led astray and eventually got lost. They spent days in the desert heat, well into the 100's, without food or water. Luis recounts truthful facts about the men's trip through the desert as well as vivid accounts of how things most likely felt and happened - this was done because so many of the men died that the stories had to be pieced together to paint a picture for the reader to visualize the conditions or scenerios a border crosser faces.

Myself? I put myself into those men's shoes and could imagine why they wanted to cross, how they were feeling when they left home, how painful the journey was (I had heat stroke in New Mexico about 10 years ago) and how scared and upset they must have been.

After reading The Devil's Highway, I do feel a new respect for those that do make the trek over the border (for legitimate reasons, not drug trafficking). If for no other reason, because they MADE IT and made it ALIVE. I get that border politics are messy and I would rather not get into what's right or wrong - I just want to recognize that if most Americans grew up in the conditions that some border crossers did or do, those same Americans would probably do the same thing.

In a test of parenting strength, the small child has been granted more independance as of late.

Tonight, against my internal naysayer, she will walk home from the bus and has been given permission to go play with the neighborhood youth with the stipulation that she calls me as soon as she gets home, calls me when a plan is hatched with the neighbor kids and is home at a certain time. I'll be at work but if something comes up, it's a quick jaunt home...

I'm trying to be tough and to let her grow, I know that this "running around the neighborhood" time is valuable and I enjoyed the hell out of it when I was young. I just get myself worked up envisoning all that could go wrong...

End Times.

I'm not usually one to follow grand predictions but all of these earthquakes in recent months have me a little uneasy in my seat... I'm almost tempted to go wild these next few years with the expectation of the end of the world boiling up.

Resumes.

People are weird, I just looked at a resume where the person listed a job she held at a grocery store from 1979 to 1984!!!!!! Whaaa? Why would someone go back that far on a freakin' resume??!!

Old Lady.

This year I've decided that I don't want to haul my heavy textbooks and other paraphanlia on my back anymore, I've bought a rack for my bike and I'm getting a pannier. While I enjoy the minimalist look on a bicycle (even gears seem like clutter), I would rather have the weight off of my back.

Work.

Still emo. Don't know what my problem is but I suspect not enough sleep and too many doubles while working 7 days. Hope this weekend I can not be so soft and not let things get to me.

The last 2 days have been trying and challenging. Yesterday at the shelter, a man thought that he was having a heart attack so we had to set the 911 gears in motion. I struggled with what I should do in the interim, while waiting. Inside, I feared that I wouldn't be able to do the right thing if he started to go downhill and needed CPR, although I'm sure instinct would have kicked in.

I did an overnight to train in a new volunteer, so my night shift ended at 9am this morning...and we had at least 5 or so guys trying to invite themselves to the breakfast that the meal group had brought and prepared for shelter guests. I had to be the bad guy and tell them to move along. Turns out it's been an ongoing problem that is happening because the overnight shifts are run by volunteers who don't always know who slept over for the evening or who aren't comfortable enough to be assertive when someone is scamming their way in.

This afternoon, I worked at the residential facility for formally homeless chronic alcoholics - 20 minutes into my shift, a man ran to the desk to report a man seizing upstairs. I flew up the 2 flights of stairs and got to his side. The other men in the room had already moved him onto his side so I sat with him and kept him propped. After what seemed like 10 minutes but was probably less, he came to somewhat and seemed very startled to see me looking down at him, he isn't someone I've connected with too much yet (there are 80 men and I've only been there 3 weeks or so). He was detoxing so it may have been that he was having some sort of hallucination as well - he jumped at least twice when his eyes focused in on me. I felt pretty helpless sitting there waiting on the paramedics, scared that he may die before they got there - he wasn't getting much oxygen and his chest was tight. On top of that, the men told me that he had hit his head twice on the table corner on the way down.

I am preparing myself already for my first lost client, there is one in particular who isn't doing well so I would not be surprised if he is the first to go during my term there. The program pretty much acts as a hospice, it's the end of the road for some residents.

Trial by fire!

My co-worker and I were discussing one of our residents yesterday when she said that he told her once that he "always get a seat to himself on the bus" - because people are scared of him.

It's really too bad that people can't get over themselves and accept others. Imagine the long term effects on his self-esteem and self-worth even if outwardly he blows it off or laughs about it.

What kind of brought me to this, we watched "The Motorcycle Diaries" in class last night. The ending when Ernesto arrived at the Leper Colony and worked with the patients brought me back to that very conversation. Is it so hard to treat people who may look different, be different or have an illness with a little dignity and respect?

I get that some of the guys I work with are very dysfunctional but at the same time, they are almost like little boys inside once you get to know them and understand. And it's true, some people will never change and some people want to remain homeless, I had a guy tell me Saturday that he prefers to be homeless although I suspect that there is more to the story (he has 5 kids in 5 places by 5 different moms so the child support garnishments alone would keep him from being housed successfully and I am not defending his actions in any way, in fact, I passed a condom to him and joked that he may need it!) and he opinion may change the older he gets. Some people are truly scary and mean individuals.

As a society we are quick to lump anyone who is different all together. We are quick to cross the street if someone walking towards us looks homeless or "street" in any sense of the word. And believe me, I don't like being panhandled either, it's uncomfortable in many ways but spitting out "Get a job" isn't helpful or educated. Some guys can't get a job because of 1 single felony - if you look up the types of crimes that may get you a felony, some of them are pretty damn petty. So many of the guys I meet struggle with mental illness of varying degrees and types and in the workplace, talking aloud or having paranoid fits doesn't fly too well. And just because someone is a chronic alcoholic doesn't mean they are a horrible person, they may act like a jerk when drunk or withdrawing but when sober they most likely are just like you and I. Human.

I understand that not everyone would agree but I hope that people take more time to think and put themselves in others shoes before spouting off.

So tired. I keep nearly doozing off here at my desk.

Another impossibly busy weekend. I think I put in nearly 60 hours this week between 3jobs and add 2 2+ hour long classes in there. YAWN! I do enjoy the financial security however (the kid and I are planning to trip to the City of Angels this summer and my friend in Vermont is getting married this summer as well) and my jobs all have their perks and downers.

One challenge to my new gig is learning the names of 80 new men (plus my co-workers) on top of the 45 men I have to remember each weekend. Thankfully the new job doesn't get a lot of resident turnover and the shelter also has a large percentage of regulars or notable people who I couldn't forget for one reason or another.

And a downer is that I have to do more policing. At the shelter, the rule is simple: it's a sober environment, we breath-a-lize and someone blows positive, they lose their bed or have to take a night out. Same if they are caught with a drug.
At my new job, we practice Harm Reduction as it relates to chronic alcoholism - this means that they cannot bring booze into the building (or drugs) but they can drink in a designated area (to keep them off the streets and out of detox) and lock up leftovers in a provided locker in the lobby. But the problem with this is that the men try to "smuggle" in booze in various containers or various ways. And we have to check their bags and ask them to pull open their coats, etc.. I don't like having to be that person but I suppose they know to expect it. From what I hear, and will soon experience I'm sure, is that when some of them get too drunk or blacked out, it's harder to get them to hand over the booty or they cuss us out. I know not to take it personally but still.

Today I broke one of my cardinal rules of walking in certain areas of this fine city - there are several aspects:
- walking alone, had to.
- carrying no bags or purse, been mugged, don't like my things pilfered.
- wearing a skirt, nevermind that it was flowy and I have black tights on underneath.

I took a lunch time stroll to Pineda today, didn't want to bike (see previous entry) or bus (it's too nice out and I would have boarded the bus then immediately disembarked, not to mention the waiting...

I had a man in a big business type truck turn into the alley in front of me, blocking it, look at me weird, then backed up and continued on the way he was headed in the first place. Huh?

A mere honk was the 2nd offense. Which, in the scheme of things, I could care less about that as long as they stay in their car and keep moving.

A few years ago, I was wearing sweater tights, a jean skirt and a hoodie paired with my messenger bag (probably) as I walked to pick my daughter up from her afterschool program - some asshat stopped and asked if I "needed a ride". Christ!

Men never cease to amaze me. Having a daughter freaks me out.

I don't know, I don't THINK I look like a woman looking "for a ride". I rarely show any skin, I don't wear make-up (aside from eyeliner), I don't wear heels, etc...

Lesson learned - walk with a bag, even if empty.

Ugh. I'm having some food drama. I didn't bring lunch and now my mind is starting to become preoccupied with good lip smacking food. I want to ride over to Pineda for some carnitas tacos but don't want goo to fill my bag on the ride back, sadly a half hour lunch doesn't allow for eating in or for walking the few blocks over there.

I've settled on an apple with peanut butter for now but I may need to make a run to Subway (blech, trying to avoid convienence foods) if my belly starts in. I won't get dinner until 7 tonight and I'll be stuck at the shelter for an overnight and can't leave, so I have to be careful.

So I went from 2 jobs and school to 3 jobs and school. I'm in a pickle. My full-time job was only funded through April so I began seeking work elsewhere. I accepted an On-Call position last week at a supportive housing program that serves formally homeless chronic inebriates. Yesterday, I was offered a full-time benefit earning position at my "temporary" job. And no matter what, I'm not leaving the Men's shelter unless they can't use me anymore - I looovvveee that job and the guys. Unfortunately, there is no need for me other than 2 shifts a week. *pout pout*

So, all night last night I pondered. I am choosing to stick with the new opportunity as it is following the career path I am pursuing while the offer for full-time employment with my current employer is office and support work - I can't sit day after day in an office, a basement even! Plus, it will put my back on my career path if I stay for a long period - it is a non-profit agency that serves domestic violence survivors, women with chemical and mental health issues but I'm not getting direct service experience...soooo, I think it's time to go as originally planned.

Bring on the bedbugs! The rowdy drunk men! The interesting stories! The scrappers, the lonely and left behind, the gangsters, the hobos, the migrants, the recently laid off or kicked out, those in search of new beginnings, etc, etc, etc...

I was offered, and accepted, an On-Call position with one of the largest social service agencies in Minnesota. The division I applied for is with a permenant supportive housing for formally homeless men who are chronic alcoholics. It is more or less a hospice for them in their later years.
I didn't have quite enough experience for the position I came in to interview for but they offered this on-call position - partially as a foot in the door. This way I can get a chance to prove my work ethic and ability as well as get a chance to work within the agency and see how I like it. Bonus is the fact that they are preparing to build and open up a grand new multi-use facility - if things work out right, I can probably slide right in there when the time comes.

Either way, I am still going to keep my position at the Men's Shelter I currently work at unless I absolutely cannot do both. I was walking through the halls last night and thought to myself how sad I would be to have to leave, the guys have enriched my life in many ways. Plus I love the agency and all that they do.

I've also begun doing personal research on immigration and issues that surround it - from the horrible walk across the deserts of the SW, the treatment that the walkers get from the Coyotes that lead them, the terrible cycle of working day labor or migrant work, the pain of being seperated from family after leaving in search of a better life, to the cultural confusion that happens once a family or person gets here or half a family gets here. Some of these problems are more specific to Latinos others could apply to any immigrants or refugees.

And the work is never done - a week or so ago, I saw a man get assaulted outside of the gas station. He was either kicked in the face or punched - it happened so fast I missed the actual physical action. He was flat out in the drive within seconds. As much as I would prefer not to, I called 911 because he wasn't getting up, and from what I could see from the street, he was out cold.

This morning was no exception. I was biking home from work and passed a woman out cold - she was somehow sitting somewhat upright but slumped in a way that her head was hanging down nearly in her lap. I started to circle back and try to wake her or check her out but I had noted a man "at the bus stop" across the street potentially watching me looking at her and decided to pull over a block down and I called 911 to have them send help out.

Ain't no daughter of mine wearing no UGGs!
So the small child wants some UGGs, apparently one of her friends at school has some, now she's got her eye on a pair. It could be worse, her friend could have gold teeth or something, at least shoes wear out.

The guys are off the hook this morning with their sneezing, coughing, hacking up loogies, and nose blowing.

The sneezer is making me laugh.

I swear, when I do overnights, the guys call someone to come screw with me. We have to get up at 4am so any interruption in the night is too many.
The phone rings around midnight, when I get up to answer it, no one will respond on the other end. Fast forward to 1am, the doorbell starts ringing - thankfully they only buzzed two or so times then either gave up or the doorman shushed them.

There's been nights when all of the above have happend PLUS someone knocking on the office window (we are in a basement), to do so, they had to jump our backyard fence and know where the window was. I don't answer window knocks.

Anyway, I'm off to investigate a possible AWOL.

Omigod!

I'm having a small anxiety attack (for real, not joking)! I have an interview on Friday for a pretty heavy position at a housing facility run by a large social services agency - the building and program works a tough population and the position is uber official!

I'm going to go in, be real, be confident but also be open to the lesser position that is open that I am for sure, for sure qualified for and I will remind them that I am interested in it as well if this other opening isn't a good fit for me.

While I sat at the stoplight on 31st and Chicago, I noted a couple of men with bikes on the corner sidewalk kitty corner to me. One guy looked to be your standard bike commuter type with a road bike, the other a Latino man with a mountain bike. It became apparent that they were "talking bikes" - not to sound like a crab or to project but it's a sight that I have rarely seen.

My experience with the bike culture is that they can be pretty insular and even angry and shaming at people who are not like them.

For example:

People who ride without lights - Yes, I hate this too and recognize that's it's a law as well. But keep in mind that some people who ride bikes are homeless or close to it and can't afford to buy lights or keep replacing stolen ones.
You can generally get a pretty good idea of who is riding sans lights to be "cool" and who is doing it because they are low income. I've actually seen a statement made on a local messageboard (by someone I thought was better than this) regarding low income people riding like crap, without lights, etc.. that said "Poor doesn't have to equal stupid" or maybe it was "Being poor isn't an excuse for being stupid" or something pretty close to this (I honestly don't feel like looking back at the thread - I just felt like that statement was so classist and ignores that sometimes people aren't as emeshed in bike culture as the person making the statement and his friends. I don't understand why the statement was even made.

Maybe a little more outreach and education to immigrant and/or low income communities could remedy some of the issues (not sharing the road, riding on the wrong side of the street, etc..) or how about the idea of holding a headlight drive to donate to low income people/kids/shelters. Maybe having a nice conversation at the corner like I witnessed this morning is good enough - these types of interactions could help educate for cyclists who aren't doing it because they are "Bike People" but because they need to get to work free and fast or around town to the various homeless shelters or whatever their situation is.

I'm glad that the Midtown Greenway Coalition prints a section in their newsletter in Spanish for this very reason - but of course, you can lead a horse to water but you can't make him drink. But any effort is better than just complaining. I also will recognize that there is a program that will go out to events or to the schools to help educate people about bike safety and usage. This is awesome and if any of it sticks - SCORE!

People who ride on the opposite side of the street towards traffic, towards others in a one way bike lane or on the sidewalk - Again, I am bothered by this too but keep in mind that culturally, maybe that's how people ride in their homeland and maybe the person hasn't gotten the memo that Americans have a social more for bicycling. Not to mention that a lot of our parents were taught to ride like that in the old days so some parents have passed it on to their kids.

There is no easy answer - there will always be people riding around in ways that annoy other people but taking a minute to consider the possibility of WHY they are doing the things they are doing may help to understand. Trying to reach out and talk to others can help spread the word about expectations and bike safety.

Two of the more funny things overheard at work this weekend:

1. "What's that thing called?! A "Tu-commie"???" Spoken in reference to the Tsunami that was feared to be headed towards Hawaii on Saturday. As we all know, it was a dud afterall.

2. "He tried to scare me with his eyes! Like this..." Said with a cute South American accent, eyes bulging, scanning as if following someone with his eyes. This young man (the Salvadorian surfer mentioned in a previous post) was recanting his version of how he busted his thumb to myself and my co-worker - the event involved him getting into it and ultimately punching a man who had been mad dogging him for a few days at another shelter for seemingly no reason.

Some podcasts I've been listening to the past few days:

The life of Rene Enriquez, an ex-leader of the Mexican Mafia speaks of his transitions from active gang member to someone that has defected while still in prison.

This is the story of a man who was deported back to El Salvador after living in the states since he was 5. He was sent back because of his involvement in crime here in the U.S. His story is striking to me, his stories of assimilating into his El Salvadorian culture as an American raised citizen. Even though his choices led him to his present day prediciment, I can feel for him and what he now faces.

After the Projects - This covers what happened in Chicago when they shut down the Ida B. Wells housing projects and moved families into scattered site housing throughout the Chicago Metro area. Interesting.

I recently found 2Pac's Greatest Hits cassette for 98 cents at Half Price Books (my van has a cassette player still). It's in heavy rotation despite the short playlist.

One of my favorite passages in a song:

"sit down and conversate like you know me, take my hand
Cause even Thugs get lonely, understand
Even the hardest of my homies need attention
Catch you blowin up the telephone, reminiscin
I wanna take you to the movies, empty park
Let's find a spot for you to do me, in the dark
Now that it's passion, hold me tight
Don't need lights, I can see you by the moonlight
I know your man ain't lovin you right
You're lonely under pressure need a Thug in your life"

Something about using the word Thug in a love song style makes me smile.

Spurred by my continued mid-winter obsession with needing fruits and vegetables, I made Chicken with Green Sauce from scratch, bought a pepper in each color (orange, yellow, red and a sweet green type) and 3 containers of strawberries. I am determined to cut out some of the junk we've been eating since winter took hold - for many reasons: to gain more vitamins and energy, to reduce caloric intake, to reduce high salt and sugar in our diet.

Since my effieciency at multi-tasking while cooking is not ideal - there were some tense moments during the whole operation. That being said, I have gotten over some of my cooking anxiety (some of which was heightened at one point in the previous years when I dated the brother of a professional cook, I was afraid to cook anything around either of them and turns out, due to being broke as a joke due to job loss, it didn't come up. The one time it did, I wasn't allowed the chance to make my dish so I guess I lucked out) and have tried some new recipes this past 6 months. I want to cook and be good at it. Ariana had been a huge help and inspiration as well since she loves to help out with cooking and prepping.

I also looovvvveeee window shopping for pretty casserole dishes and kitchen gadgets but need to cultivate the skills to cook well to go along with them.

Tally from work last night:

3 = Number of visitors I had to ask to leave/walk out because they have been drinking prior to stopping in

0 = Number of those same men who actually currently had a bed with us

4 = Number of times I had to walk one of those men back out after he had snuck back in!

6 = Number of times (approximately) that I was told "I love you"

2 = Number of men who told me that

1 = Number of men who started crying after saying "I love you" over and over as I was escorting him out...AWKWARD!

1 = Number of kisses on the hand that accompanied the statement (someone is in trouble for sneaking THAT one)

1 = Number of times I was told in Spanish that I was racist (for asking a drunk man to leave)

10 = Number of minutes (approximately) I stood there not knowing what I was being told until someone else translated it to me, so THAT'S why he looked angry

30 = Number of minutes spent daydreaming about Punta Mango Beach in El Salvador after sitting and talking with a young man from there for a bit - we google the area, where he used to go surfing, BEAUTIFUL!

Seeing these hand printed towels reminded me of an pictoral/article I recently read about a place in the California desert called Slab City. Apparently it's been there for years (upon closer look) but it was featured in the newest issue of The Sun. Check it out and buy some great towels while you're at it.

I've discovered that going up a pant size has compromised my fashion ideals. I can now be seen wearing items I wouldn't have chosen in the past but have been forced to wear.

The thrift stores are hit or miss. And the few stores I choose to shop at don't have a comfortable fitting pant for me. I partially blame the popularity of the low-low rise pant - I think I can confidently say that most women couldn't fit into these. There isn't enough pant at the top to fit anyone older than 22 unless they are one of those uniquely small people. Most skinny jeans, which I actually do like, have this waist and obviously it is a barrier. I'm in a weird place where size 10 is pushing it or sometimes impossible and the next size up is often falling off of me by the end of the day.

I'm switching to skirts and dresses!

This highly unimportant post was brought to you today by "The Big Booty Association of America".

Some fun DIY foodie workshops coming up through the Minnesota Historical Society:

March 13th, 2010 - DIY!: Cheese
Cheese in Minnesota is about more than just deep fried curds! James Norton, author of "The Master Cheesemakers of Wisconsin" and editor of "The Heavy Table," discusses Midwestern cheese varieties, and some of the best makers out there.
Jeff Jirik of Faribault Dairy leads a hands-on demo and offers samples of some of their best work.

and

April 3rd, 2010 - DIY!: Meat
As long as there's ice on Minnesota's great lakes, there will be ice fishing.
Learn more about this wintry tradition with Greg Breining, author of "A Hard Water World: Ice Fishing and Why We Do It," and enjoy a demo on prepping a whole fish to eat with chef Dawn Drouillard.
Fish not your favorite? Mike Phillips of Craftsman shows us how to make sausage!

Beautiful day - I just walked across the street to the corner store to get some sweet and salty snacks. People were smiling, holding the door and ushering hi's. But as I exited, I was asked for change by a man I had noted standing near the door as I approached on my way in.

I was faced with that split second response - "Sorry, I don' t have any change." Which wasn't true and honestly, I don't even know why I said that. But more complicating, since I work with homeless men now, it is technically a conflict of interest to give someone change, at least if that someone is a client of my workplace. I looked this man in the eyes as I walked away blubbering a dumb white lie about not having any change to assist him in his goal of making .85 cents and I assessed whether or not he was familiar. He wasn't. I debated as I took each step farther from him and almost turned back but didn't. I don't know what stopped me. I had the money. I think the complication of him coming to the shelter and remembering me (unlikely that he would remember me) was part of it. The other part was that I didn't want to take the time to dig out 1 dollar and have him see the other 4 I had in my pocket then the sinking feeling of guilt that accompanies THAT. Then I feel like I should give more. My problem, not his.

And why do I even assume that he was homeless. He could be housed and just broke, broke, broke.

The perils of being human.

Somehow I only made a little over $10,000 last year. My tax return will be a little over half of what I made. Some of this was the result of working as a Work Study employee at the college. Americorps was another low paying gig. I've probably made most of that total in the past 4 months at my current day job.

I knew money was tight this past year but I didn't realize it was to that degree. I just attributed some of that to my rent being higher than it's been in the past (while paying it alone anyway).

Question of the week: Are men more racist or just more apt to voice their opinions?

I'm finding myself always surrounded by so many racist comments, my head feels like it's going to explode!

It's in my face on facebook, at the shelter, at home, in the Star Tribune comments section, everywhere!

And the very fact that the people voicing their opinions assume that everyone else agrees or at the very least wants to hear it just annoys me.

I personally feel ENRICHED by meeting people from other countries. I LIKE foods from other cultures. I don't feel like my job is threatened by immigrants - legal or illegal, the closest I've felt to that is when a manager told me that I was passed over for the job because I wasn't bi-lingul. I was bummed but life went on and last week I saw another posting for a job I would love but can't apply for because of the same reason. Sure I'm bummed but it's reality. I'm not blaming anyone but myself since I haven't learned a 2nd language beyond the basics.

Just sayin.

I'm at a point in my life where I am seeing the greatness and beauty in people in a way that makes me feel alive and hopeful and curious to know more.

From the guys at the shelter to the people in my Saturday morning class - one boy spoke of being stabbed and shot as he attempted to leave gang life behind. A young women spoke of her life growing up in Gary and a man of his in Chicago - a life surrounded by drugs, gritty city, street life and violence. The latter noted at the end of his poem how these were things that no wanted wanted to hear, the instructor questioned his statement and I quietly agreed. I want to hear their stories of survival and life. I want to hear about where they are headed now.

Saturday night, one of our shelter guests was giving the other guys haircuts - soon this young little metalhead comes prancing into our office, glasses on, long hair back and tattoos out. He came to show off his newly shaved hair - T had shaved up the sides. My co-worker and I looked at one another after he danced away and said to one another "We love our job!"

I never want to be a cubicle monkey again.

Before the month of January wraps up and it's later than late...

Songs that made my 2009 (not necessarily released in '09):

• MGMT - Kids, Electric Feel
• Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros - Home
• Empire State of Mind - Jay-z and Alicia Keys
• Jay Reatard - Fading All Away
• Lucero - Watch it Burn, Bikeriders, What else would you have me be?
• Kurtis Blow - The Breaks
• Bruce Springsteen - Born to Run
• Kimya Dawson - The Beer
• Iron & Wine - Lions Mane
• M. Ward - To save me

/ I've deduced that I must not be an authentic college student as I don't know what "J-Term" means. From what I have gleaned so far, it seems to include going to a foreign country to "study" (read: party), which in the real world sounds like something only kids with money could afford to do. I will google it later and learn more.

/ This morning I found the motherload of Jersey Shore quotes and accompanying commentary! yes! Yes! YES! I <3 New York Magazine, I miss my subscription...

OH! And I will be getting my own business cards soon!

I've never had my own card before, and at a job and agency that I am so stoked to be at on top of it!!

I am really disappointed in myself that I cannot functionally speak Spanish. I feel like I am missing out on a lot of amazing life stories from the guys. Not to mention, when something important comes up, like having to ask so and so to leave because they have been drinking, I need to be able to feel confident that they understand me and I understand their response. I am translating key phrases and such and am starting to study important words and phrases but as of yet, my mind goes blank when I'm in action at work.



Right now, there is this young guy from Argentina with the most mezmorizing bright blue eyes...and I don't think he knows a lick of English. Or if he does, it's pretty basic. I would love to know his story, to find out why he's here and where he's been. He just started showing up about a month ago, hanging out with the Latino crew that had beds or who were on the wait list. He would leave when the time came for those not staying for the night to move along. He won a 28 day bed finally this last week. Maybe I'll get a chance to sit down and see what his story* is.

This also applies to other languages but that hasn't been so much of an issue - the guy from Romania didn't get a 28 day bed and he seems to understand and speak English well and the guy from Belarus is about the same.
_____________________________________________________________
* "Story"
I kind of hate that terminology but I guess sometimes it's the easiest way to get across what someone means. The other night we had a referral from one of our street outreach crew - a young guy fresh in town from Texas, as I was showing him where to find his bed and linens, he asked "So..what's your story? Fresh out of college and volunteering here or something..is this how you spend your Friday nights?" I kind of skirted the question and just told him that I was there because it's what I want to do and left it at that. Fresh out of college? Flattering - yes. Reality - no. Unfortunately, I think I might have handled it a bit wrong because I think I either offended him or made him feel weird for asking and not getting an answer. Not my intention but I didn't really want to get into my "story" with him (boundaries for one thing).

I just have to say, my experience trying to find unsweetened ice tea around the city's corner stores and groceries has yielded disappointing results. I am happy to report that the gas station kitty corner to job #1 has it and better yet, a good brand of it.

I was beginning to feel like I was living amongst a secret society of transplants from the south who refused service to those of us that like our tea black and untampered.

One highlight and one lowlight of recent shifts:

/ A man bringing a huge body lice to show us, he had found it crawling up into his 'pit. I taped it to a piece of paper to identify and keep it corralled. It was still moving it's legs 3 days later!! You can see that it still has blood in it's system so it must just need that to live. Eke!

/ Learning trial by fire how to convince someone that we don't have a bed and he has to leave without involving outside authorities. It took about a half an hour of talking in circles but finally he took no for an answer and made his way out to the bus stop to head to the downtown shelters. Trying not to internalize feeling bad took a little more time but he was well aware when he arrived that getting a bed was less than 50/50 chance and he insisted anyway.

I am so happy to be at the shelter as staff, our guest/cook, R keeps laughing at me because I am so hyper and goofy when I get in, it's because I am ===== HAPPY (and a little tired, pulling double shifts makes your brain a little haywire sometimes).

To-do list for 2010:

/ Start Ariana in a hip-hop dance class

/ Get a scholarship to the Y or commit to being more active again

/ Go to Vermont for Britta's wedding, maybe via train with a pit stop in NYC?

/ Get a new couch and a new mattress - my back is killing me with the ones I have.

/ Ace the math placement test so I can reduce the number of courses I need to pass to transfer

/ Master the art of making a good referral (at work) and being an effective advocate

/ Purge my wardrobe

/ Learn to speak better Spanish, I need to be able to communicate with the Latino guys that come to the shelter. I personally feel really uncomfortable trying to ask them things, explain rules or do required duties and not knowing if they understand what I'm trying to do/say/accomplish.

A Decade in review:

The year leading up to 1999 were years of new discoveries - we traveled every chance we got. Quick trips to the East Coast - My 1988 Dodge Omni carried us farther than I would trust my current van but perhaps it is the youthful optimism and sense of invincibility that helped us make it. We camped in Upstate New York and befriended the local store owners who gave us free pizza in exchange for C asking the man's partner to marry him (I assume they were joking around), stayed overnight in an empty campground in Pennsylvania, drove through Boston to visit Salem, visited Niagara Falls. Not in that order, we kind of inched East, testing the little car's limits and taking longer weekends each time.

June of 1999 - we dropped the lease on the little house we rented (in MI), moved all of our stuff to the in-laws and hit the road. Our travel took us down to West Virginia where C nearly got head butted by a buck in the campground while I hid in the tent both laughing and a little worried as he flailed around on the picnic table. We spent a day or two with his family, woke up to a flat tire and once that was repaired, headed into the deep South.
Once there, we spent about a week in St. Petersberg with friends, who we later relocated with to Minneapolis. The only event of note while there was my forced (pressured, signed up against my will) participation in a wet t-shirt contest (with a bathing suit under the shirt!!). Somehow I was one of the finalists but flipped the audience off and ultimately walked off laughing. Crazy times!

Our trip took us through the humidity of the Southern coast where I could barely sleep in the tent while dressed but didn't feel safe not being so. In Texas we experienced some shady activities while sleeping in the car at rest stops. Looking back, I think we were in danger at one point but didn't allow ourselves to be as vulnerable as we could have and I think the perps backed off, we drove away soon after, paranoid about their intentions. I came very close to having a heat stroke between Texas and New Mexico and we were forced to break out the credit card for the first time and get a motel room. Again, looking back, I should have gone to the ER but didn't out of fear of a big bill (no insurance at the time). After that, we headed back North up through Colorado - I didn't want to play with that heat any more. Besides, we were traveling and camping, one drive through a campground in NM proved that camping down there would be a whole new experience that I wasn't ready/prepared for at the time. Heading North was absolutely the right choice! Colorado was a wealth of free camping, ice cold rivers to glean water from and great views. We next hit up Oregon, Washington and Northern California then with under $100 (besides the credit card) left, we decided we better head home. We logged a month on the road and I yearn for that experience often.

Once back in MI, we were sure that we were ready to fly the coop. Traveling was the first step, moving the second. BUT! There became a slight road bump. I had become pregnant! Over that year we had been pretty lax about protection, tempting fate to do what it needed to do. I've never been one to plan for something like that - it never seems like a great time to have a child but NOW that we've started the wheels in motion to plan a move - to either St. Pete or Minneapolis, this baby in me is throwing a wrench in our plans. Despite the unexpected, we moved forward with plans (mostly).
Thanksgiving came, C and our friend L moved out to Minneapolis and got us a place in Uptown. I drove out in a snowstorm on Christmas Eve (my first real day to explore the city was Christmas Day which was great because it was so quiet and surreal) and so it began.

2000 - I was able to land a job at the 24th and Hennepin Walgreens pretty quickly and soon was hired in to the Animal Humane Society which, at the time, was more in my line of work and experience. By my 8th month of pregnancy, in May, I was still lifting dogs onto the exam tables and squeezing into cages to vaccinate and such. I refused to quit and sit around. Two weeks before I had Ariana, my mother-in-law drove out to pick me up and brought me home to MI to prepare for the inevitable. C came out THE DAY I had Ariana which didn't make me very happy or feel very supported.

2001 - Our stint in MI lasted a year and we were able to get back to Minneapolis and move ahead in our lives. This time we landed a 2 bedroom in a 40 unit building, we quickly took over as caretakers which gave us free rent but didn't cover expenses or utilities. I took a job at Whole Foods to cover that. Around this time, C and I's relationship started souring. I'll refrain from details but it was both of us that caused it and the pressure of being parents probably only made it more tough.

2002 - I landed a position at a high end Veterinary Hospital and spent 3 years there. It was my first living wage job I had while living here. We decided to drop the care taking gig and move into a beautiful 2 bedroom duplex in Powderhorn (a block from where I live currently). We spent about a year here and at the end, went our separate ways.

2003 - I moved into a house in Phillips with 2 other mamas and their kids, my first time ever having roommates. I had my second teenagehood for better or worse (actually it was better than my first considering I never really had a first and now I was in a city with lots of trouble, good and bad, to get into). C and I were back and forth. My roommates changed over to a man and his daughter half time and his good friend. I still worked at the veterinary hospital. I started biking for the first time since we moved to Minneapolis. Due to relationship and financial stresses - this year was a blur so I can't really be sure what else took place...

2004 - This is the year that I experienced dating for the first time. And even then that only consisted of a FWB and a couple of no touch dates with 2 others (?). But I was actually getting out there and doing things - The Bat Annex, Mala, going to shows both at venues and in punk houses, I met a lot of new people and felt involved for the first time ever. This year is also a blur - see above.

2005 - I moved on from Krookid/Icebox, the house I shared with roommates. Ariana and I got a 1 bedroom in Stevens Square, I rented in while she was back in MI visiting. C was visiting one evening and he and I were robbed at gunpoint within a week. Within a week of that incident, I adopted Pepper, our Olde Bulldogge. I had chosen that complex/company because they allowed pets anyway but the incident prompted me to move on it sooner than planned. That summer, I was having a hard time paying childcare, bills and rent so I planned to move back home for a while to regroup. I left the veterinary hospital and prepared to move (my car died soon after so that was a good move, my job wasn't busable/bikable and I would have been screwed). I backed out last minute because I wasn't able to go through with it. But now I needed a new job! Luckily, I landed a long term temporary job at Target HQ which turned into a paid position (lower pay and less cred) in the mail room. I eked that out as long as possible but ultimately couldn't do it, I had to move home. No child support, no financial assistance from anywhere except my job and that wasn't covering the basics.

2006 - Home. Back in MI. Living with the in-laws. I had to beg Barnes and Noble for a $7.15 dollar an hour job. That's how bad the job market is there. Soon after I started at the bookstore, I landed a position at a domestic violence/homeless service provider in my hometown. I had also begun school - full time. Life was busy but great overall. But living back there long term makes me unhappy. No diversity, no culture, no events, everything is car oriented. C moved back home after a visit to see us. We began doing a cleaning job on the side as well. At one point, I was working 3 jobs and still going to school full-time. The first job to go was Barnes and Noble - driving 20 miles to work there wasn't worth the pay. I could barely afford the books I was selling!!

2007 - September I moved back to Minneapolis, in with a mom, her daughter and her boyfriend. Rented a room for Ariana and I. It was a good experience overall but I was pretty depressed a lot of the time I lived there, mostly due to living in such a small space (the winter of '07 was the worst!!) and to some situations that took place. I landed a job as a server/barista at a small cafe 2 blocks from my daughter's school. This worked well for us because she could come to work with me and walk to school. When you parent alone, you need to get creative and this worked for us. She could also come to work with me when I didn't have childcare. It was a pretty straight shot from my house (about 10 blocks or so) so we were able to walk or bike to and fro rather than wait for the bus. We quickly became good friends with my co-worker and her daughter (same age as Ariana). I still consider both women to be my good friends although we don't see one another as often now that the cafe is closed and I moved out of the other's house. I can't say it was the best year of my life but I did meet some awesome people and I really enjoyed living with S other than the small room issue.

2008 - I was able to get back into school full time, my schedule at the cafe allowed me to still work and go to school and deal with Ariana. Not too much else to note. Things were going pretty well. I think this is the year I rode my first (and only so far) Babes in Bikeland - placed 65th out of 200+, I can deal with that! December 2008, I moved into our current apartment. The first apartment Ariana and I had to ourselves in years...and it's big! I was able to get some starter furniture from friends as all of my belongings were (and are still) in storage in MI. Other notable issue around this time is the case of the missing paychecks, our cafe starting having financial problems and our checks were coming later and later, for a while, we were working while not knowing if and when we would be paid. Tips were our income for a few weeks and we all shared tips so they were small. This put a cramp in getting necessities for my new place as well as providing a christmas for Ariana.

2009 - January, the cafe closed on the 12th, my car wouldn't start on the morning of the 13th, the windchill was 20 below most of the week and I started a night class the next day. STRESS! Once I got through that week and got my unemployment claim filed, things moved on. I started a work study position at the college on the 20th. This allowed my to continue my classes, to work and to still get a small unemployment amount to stretch $$. I began volunteering at S. S.'s, started an Americorps position with them in June but had to leave it in October due to the pay but I continued doing overnight shifts in the men's shelter. Last month, I was offered a part-time staff position at a normal pay rate. I am also working another 4 months at my grant funded position at T and starting classes next week.
I look forward to the year to come.