Last night being homeless was actually fun, I wound up overnight at a girlfriends place, and got to do and see other things than I might normally. The Electronic Music Project in Seattle has a free all acess night once a month, and I got to go. It was a nice way to spend an evening, particularly since I write and play music and had never been to the museum.
I'm trying to keep a positive attitude.
Sometimes it's really hard. I got to talk to a relative the other day, he called tofind out how I was doing.... and when I told him he told me I should get rid of my pets and get a job. That's really easy for someone else to say, particularly an employed person who has a really nice house, car, job, and few medical problems.
I explained that I almost died last week, and was taken to the hospital by ambulance bacause I couldn't breathe and was choking. I told him about all the mold in the place, and the flood, and all the work I've been doing to get good documentation and prepare for a case. Instead of seeing how intellegent I must be to actually get the city to come in and discover that there was never a permit for this converted office/apartment; all he could do was tell me to get a haircut and get a real job.
I didn't ask him for anything, I have too much dignity to ask for something someone doesn't want to give. It hurt me though. If his son had called me and said that he was having a real problem and was on the street, even now, homeless, I'd be trying to do something.
What makes me more sad is that if I was laying still in a box, they'd all cry and say what a nice young woman I was, how smart and creative, how sad.... and they'd lie to themelves and pretend that there was nothing they could have done.
