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.