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Why do I do what I do?
I saw this woman. I know I should not talk to her for more than two minutes but she seemed sane, this time. Her dog was sweet. We got into a conversation.
She's basically been homeless and unemployed for over twelve years. She's a very intelligent Jewish woman who says she has graduate degrees, which she may have. Today, for the first time, there was an explosion of claims that she had a business managing musicians, that she was working for a realtor, or had worked in property management, or was teaching someone to be a realtor or property manager and had previously taught at a college, that she flew airplanes for fun, that she could petition for access to funds in a family trust fund and would inherit it when her mother died, that she had worked in a nursery, that she was taking care of everyone, and finding jobs and housing for everyone.
She was looking for a job on some public computers. She's a woman in her fifties who has been basically homeless and unemployed for over twelve years, and she is profoundly unreasonable. She used to engage in sudden verbal attacks against female friends. She's never going to be self-supporting and housed on her own, and maybe not even with help. I gently suggested that she apply for disability. She didn't want to hear that. I gently suggested that looking at one's past history with regard to earning a living and keeping a roof over one's head could show if she was able to do that. She insisted that she had been working for the past three years and that I didn't know her, I wasn't anyone to her. I've known her for twelve years. I've hung out with her plenty. She was mad at me and people who somehow thought she was broke and homeless. When I first knew her she was living in a white station wagon at a beach park with three dogs. She said that she actually had two boyfriends she was living with at the time and she pretended to live in her car to avoid making the boyfriends aware of each other. She claimed she only slept there during the day because she was so tired. At the time she was doing that I knew her and it was more than clear that she lived in her car. She claimed that no one could stay at that park overnight. That's true now but it wasn't then, and she should know that.
This woman is never not lucid and clear eyed. She claims she has or had three houses, one on the Marina, one with a view, and one somewhere else. Apparently these are homes of "boyfriends" or possibly men that are using her for sex. Right now she says she has a place but she can't be in it because the woman who lives there is irrationally jealous, thinking she is hooking up with the guy who lives there. Is that "having a place"? And how irrational is the jealousy? She says that for a while she was living on an eight acre farm in the country with a boyfriend. Then she was in Peru. All of this is said with a clear emphatic way. I saw one of the boyfriends and he was a good looking guy and he was into her. He was staying in a house he was working on across from the beach park. He had a girlfriend but he was looking to stray and they did. She had a group of construction workers that she hung out with at the beach park and there were mostly decent or good-looking guys she would drink with at the picnic tables. She had a way of talking provocatively that would interest men.
During the conversation she said that the guy with the Torino who used to park at the library overnight died. There was an elderly man who lived in his Torino and sort of pretended to have a car detailing business at the beach during the day. I saw him buying smokes and liquor at the drugstore at night. She said he died of emphysema. I had wondered if he got busted for parking at the library because I stopped seeing his car there. She said she sometimes used to park next to him and that she was taking care of him. She said she used to bring him three hamburgers at the beach and he would give her a dollar. I was surprised to hear that he died.
She parked next to him, at night, under the closed library. But she's not homeless.
She says she's full of professional possibilities, she wants to contribute, she wants to achieve. Her tone sounds grounded, not manic. If you didn't know her and you couldn't see her, you'd believe that was possible. She says she's not qualified for disability or psychiatric disability. (She is psychiatrically disabled. There are self-defeating behaviors, and interpersonal problems.) She said "if you don't work, you don't have a roof over your head." Strange because she is collecting unemployment, and has an unused Section 8 voucher, and probably gets food stamps and medicaid. Her clothes are old, all her things are worn out. The free business card for her music managing business had half the business name scraped off. She said she dresses like that that so people wouldn't expect anything from her. This is the first time in twelve years she tried to claim anything like that. As if you could work or have a business looking fairly homeless.
There were many complaints about crazy bosses, like a realtor who moonlighted as an escort and a landlord who kept her deposit and forged a check or accused her of forging a check and on and on.
There was one hostile gambit after another coming at me. I don't think the people in the place we were in appreciated the conversation. I kept saying," I was trying to help you." "I've known you for twelve years." "I do know you enough to say." (Can you even use the "You don't know me." thing after twelve years?) "You can just get the disability so you can have stability and a roof over your head." 'You don't have to take the medication." "I don't like your tone." "I've been trying to end this conversation for a while."
She kept complaining about people that thought they knew her, as if that was the problem. She said I had just come up to her and told her to get disability. I said, "Is that what happened?" Finally she said something about me trying to damage her confidence around Christmas. She said she was trying to find a job and support herself. As gently as I could, I said, "How real is that possibility?"
That's what I get for trying to connect her to a steady income and a roof over her head after twelve fucking years of living in her car in plain view of everyone who knows her. Was it even possible to remain silent? Not really. I should have ended the conversation after two minutes. What was I thinking?
Earlier I had another encounter with someone that I wish I could redo. I met a guy at a restaurant. He owns a paratransit business, shuttling people with wheelchairs in vans. He noticed a folded up wheelchair in my backseat and we got to talking. He seemed friendly so we sat together. I told him to pick a table in the shade because the sun was brutal. He picked a table in the sun. The other one looked shady but he somehow thought it wasn't. I wish I had insisted we move to the other table because the whole time I was sitting there I was thinking I'm getting more sun spots, I'm getting more sun spots, but I didn't want to be too cranky.
I thought the conversation was innocent enough, especially considering how it started, but he seemed to be wanting to date me even, though he is married. It wasn't exactly stated, but it was likely. And then he started talking about how he had wanted to get a massage and I thought that something was going on with that and I wasn't happy with it. What a weird transition. Earlier when we were getting our meals, he said why don't we go somewhere "safe" and eat together. He suggested the parking lot of a car parts store that was closed or of a supermarket. The sun was so brutal that I thought it was something about that. I didn't think too much about it. He wasn't a good-looking guy. He sort of looked like Shrek, and he comes on like a nice guy, salt of the earth type, so I wasn't thinking it would go where it went. And I really really resent risking sun spots to talk to this guy. Wish I had been more cranky. Ugh. I felt like I was melting. I resent it, it makes me mad and I wish I hadn't done that. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. I wish I had said something. I wish I had said something. I wish I had moved. Why did it have to go like that? What would make a guy like that think I was interested in him and what was he doing with me? He had two preschool kids at home, and wheelchair customers to transport. What was that? He seemed like such an old-fashioned country type guy like we had here in the old days, friendly, down to earth. Ugh. Guy, pick a lane and stay in it. And I want to give my sun spots back. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Yuck. Ick. Ugh. Urggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I saw this woman. I know I should not talk to her for more than two minutes but she seemed sane, this time. Her dog was sweet. We got into a conversation.
She's basically been homeless and unemployed for over twelve years. She's a very intelligent Jewish woman who says she has graduate degrees, which she may have. Today, for the first time, there was an explosion of claims that she had a business managing musicians, that she was working for a realtor, or had worked in property management, or was teaching someone to be a realtor or property manager and had previously taught at a college, that she flew airplanes for fun, that she could petition for access to funds in a family trust fund and would inherit it when her mother died, that she had worked in a nursery, that she was taking care of everyone, and finding jobs and housing for everyone.
She was looking for a job on some public computers. She's a woman in her fifties who has been basically homeless and unemployed for over twelve years, and she is profoundly unreasonable. She used to engage in sudden verbal attacks against female friends. She's never going to be self-supporting and housed on her own, and maybe not even with help. I gently suggested that she apply for disability. She didn't want to hear that. I gently suggested that looking at one's past history with regard to earning a living and keeping a roof over one's head could show if she was able to do that. She insisted that she had been working for the past three years and that I didn't know her, I wasn't anyone to her. I've known her for twelve years. I've hung out with her plenty. She was mad at me and people who somehow thought she was broke and homeless. When I first knew her she was living in a white station wagon at a beach park with three dogs. She said that she actually had two boyfriends she was living with at the time and she pretended to live in her car to avoid making the boyfriends aware of each other. She claimed she only slept there during the day because she was so tired. At the time she was doing that I knew her and it was more than clear that she lived in her car. She claimed that no one could stay at that park overnight. That's true now but it wasn't then, and she should know that.
This woman is never not lucid and clear eyed. She claims she has or had three houses, one on the Marina, one with a view, and one somewhere else. Apparently these are homes of "boyfriends" or possibly men that are using her for sex. Right now she says she has a place but she can't be in it because the woman who lives there is irrationally jealous, thinking she is hooking up with the guy who lives there. Is that "having a place"? And how irrational is the jealousy? She says that for a while she was living on an eight acre farm in the country with a boyfriend. Then she was in Peru. All of this is said with a clear emphatic way. I saw one of the boyfriends and he was a good looking guy and he was into her. He was staying in a house he was working on across from the beach park. He had a girlfriend but he was looking to stray and they did. She had a group of construction workers that she hung out with at the beach park and there were mostly decent or good-looking guys she would drink with at the picnic tables. She had a way of talking provocatively that would interest men.
During the conversation she said that the guy with the Torino who used to park at the library overnight died. There was an elderly man who lived in his Torino and sort of pretended to have a car detailing business at the beach during the day. I saw him buying smokes and liquor at the drugstore at night. She said he died of emphysema. I had wondered if he got busted for parking at the library because I stopped seeing his car there. She said she sometimes used to park next to him and that she was taking care of him. She said she used to bring him three hamburgers at the beach and he would give her a dollar. I was surprised to hear that he died.
She parked next to him, at night, under the closed library. But she's not homeless.
She says she's full of professional possibilities, she wants to contribute, she wants to achieve. Her tone sounds grounded, not manic. If you didn't know her and you couldn't see her, you'd believe that was possible. She says she's not qualified for disability or psychiatric disability. (She is psychiatrically disabled. There are self-defeating behaviors, and interpersonal problems.) She said "if you don't work, you don't have a roof over your head." Strange because she is collecting unemployment, and has an unused Section 8 voucher, and probably gets food stamps and medicaid. Her clothes are old, all her things are worn out. The free business card for her music managing business had half the business name scraped off. She said she dresses like that that so people wouldn't expect anything from her. This is the first time in twelve years she tried to claim anything like that. As if you could work or have a business looking fairly homeless.
There were many complaints about crazy bosses, like a realtor who moonlighted as an escort and a landlord who kept her deposit and forged a check or accused her of forging a check and on and on.
There was one hostile gambit after another coming at me. I don't think the people in the place we were in appreciated the conversation. I kept saying," I was trying to help you." "I've known you for twelve years." "I do know you enough to say." (Can you even use the "You don't know me." thing after twelve years?) "You can just get the disability so you can have stability and a roof over your head." 'You don't have to take the medication." "I don't like your tone." "I've been trying to end this conversation for a while."
She kept complaining about people that thought they knew her, as if that was the problem. She said I had just come up to her and told her to get disability. I said, "Is that what happened?" Finally she said something about me trying to damage her confidence around Christmas. She said she was trying to find a job and support herself. As gently as I could, I said, "How real is that possibility?"
That's what I get for trying to connect her to a steady income and a roof over her head after twelve fucking years of living in her car in plain view of everyone who knows her. Was it even possible to remain silent? Not really. I should have ended the conversation after two minutes. What was I thinking?
Earlier I had another encounter with someone that I wish I could redo. I met a guy at a restaurant. He owns a paratransit business, shuttling people with wheelchairs in vans. He noticed a folded up wheelchair in my backseat and we got to talking. He seemed friendly so we sat together. I told him to pick a table in the shade because the sun was brutal. He picked a table in the sun. The other one looked shady but he somehow thought it wasn't. I wish I had insisted we move to the other table because the whole time I was sitting there I was thinking I'm getting more sun spots, I'm getting more sun spots, but I didn't want to be too cranky.
I thought the conversation was innocent enough, especially considering how it started, but he seemed to be wanting to date me even, though he is married. It wasn't exactly stated, but it was likely. And then he started talking about how he had wanted to get a massage and I thought that something was going on with that and I wasn't happy with it. What a weird transition. Earlier when we were getting our meals, he said why don't we go somewhere "safe" and eat together. He suggested the parking lot of a car parts store that was closed or of a supermarket. The sun was so brutal that I thought it was something about that. I didn't think too much about it. He wasn't a good-looking guy. He sort of looked like Shrek, and he comes on like a nice guy, salt of the earth type, so I wasn't thinking it would go where it went. And I really really resent risking sun spots to talk to this guy. Wish I had been more cranky. Ugh. I felt like I was melting. I resent it, it makes me mad and I wish I hadn't done that. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. I wish I had said something. I wish I had said something. I wish I had moved. Why did it have to go like that? What would make a guy like that think I was interested in him and what was he doing with me? He had two preschool kids at home, and wheelchair customers to transport. What was that? He seemed like such an old-fashioned country type guy like we had here in the old days, friendly, down to earth. Ugh. Guy, pick a lane and stay in it. And I want to give my sun spots back. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Yuck. Ick. Ugh. Urggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
