Change Is A Comin'

                I did get written up last Monday, though it was for things I did prior to the first write up. I told her (the boss) so and she asked if I was calling her a liar. I told her that no, I was just telling her the truth. Didn't matter; if I didn't sign the write up I would be fired. Right there, on the spot. Whatever. Mind you, this is less than a week after she gave me and our office 2 awards for outstanding numbers. Hmmmm....

                By Wednesday afternoon, that didn't matter, though, because I was offered a job with Contra Costa County as an experienced clerk! YES! I took the test in October and got a 90%, the highest I have ever scored on a civil service exam. I have interviewed with at least 20 agencies and this one-Health and Human Services-liked me enough to hire me. I told them I would be perfect for the job because this past year I have been going through everything their clients, who I will be working with, are going through. Well, except for having kids out of wedlock with different men. Never did that. But being homeless? Living off of food stamps? Getting General Assistance for only 3 months? Been there, done that, do not wish to go back. So instead of being on Uncle Sam's Plantation, I will just be working there, free to go home after my 8 hours a day. No one will call me at 10pm to tell me we are short on coupons. No one will call me and tell me I have to come in to work because someone else didn't show up. No more 12 hour days without overtime. A permanent position with medical, dental and vision insurance. And a pension. And hopefully back to a boring life where I can get up, feed the girls, shower, have breakfast, go to work, come home and work on my book or maybe watch television or a movie with one girl on my lap (Mowgli) and the other on the top of the back of the chair (Ming). The good life. I begin on the 7th of March. If I have transportation, that is.

                My old roommate-Blondie I call her-and I were headed to the Outback Steakhouse for their Tuscan Rib eye that I received an email about and to celebrate my job and that she was going in for ankle surgery the next morning for hopefully the final time. We came off I-80 in Vacaville, onto Bella Vista and turned left, heading north on Davis Street. I and my car know the route well-we used it for the 8 years I worked a KUIC. As we approached the intersection of Hume Way, I mentioned that the widening of Davis Street was great, now they needed to widen Hume. That was the last thing I remember before a mid sized white truck smashed into my driver's side front panel, blowing out my tire and trashing my front axle. I pulled over to the side as best I could, while the other driver parked on Hume Way. He came over to the car and I rolled down Blondie's window. He asked if we were okay and Blondie said she was fine, but the top of my head was pounding away. The impact must've tossed me out of my seat and into the ceiling of the car. In any case, he said he was sorry and that he was a new driver and said it was "totally my fault". After he walked away, I asked Blondie if she had heard what he said about fault and she said yes. I told her to remember that because I would need her testimony in court. She got out and had a cigarette and I tried to get out, but the door wouldn't open. It was smashed shut at the top towards the engine. Then my neck started hurting. I called the police on the regular line since I wasn't bleeding and they put me on hold. Finally I hung up when I heard 2 cop cars coming down Hume, sirens blaring as they went through the intersection and kept going. I couldn't figure out why until I found out later there was a non injury crash at Alamo Drive and Alamo Ct. I called the police again and told them I was in a different crash, that I was injured and they needed to send help. About that time, a lady with flashing yellow lights on top of her truck came over and held up a "slow" sign so I wouldn't get hit again. The dispatcher told me to me to move the car to the side of the road and remain in it and that she would send someone out. A motorcycle officer showed up as did the paramedics. As the paramedics were trying to get me on the board-not an easy task with my jumbo size body and all-the officer was asking me for my driver's license. As I tried to move around to get my license to him, the paramedics were asking me to stay still. Here I am, my fat ass halfway on a skinny board hanging out of the driver's side of my car (the big he-men paramedics were able to rip my door open) while a police officer wants to see my license. No problem, dude, but I am kinda in a predicament now. I was able to get it for him, though. Then onto the hospital for tests. I looked around for my "Hottie Doc" (really, chief of surgery @ this health care system) but no such luck. Harrumph!

                When they said they would give me pain meds, I am thinking hey, cool, they are going to hook me up to some liquid Dilaudid. Instead the nurse tells me he has two pills-one is a vicodin and the other is a Motrin. I start laughing as I go through my purse to show him my more powerful pain meds. I told him to save the candy for someone else, but he asked me to humor him so I did. Of course I didn't feel a thing-my body is accustomed to much more. They offered me a scrip for Vicodin when I was being discharged but I told them to save it for someone it could help. I got home through a taxi voucher and went to sleep.

                Was unable to go to work Friday because of no transportation. I didn't know the kid's name who hit me or his insurance, so I called the police. They said the police report would not be done until Monday at the earliest and the only thing she was able to tell me was that my car was towed by Ramirez. I called my insurance guy and left a message, the same thing I had done the day before so I could pay my bill since I hadn't heard from him since we moved in December. Was unable to get a hold of anyone, except my friend Debra, who gave me a ride to a U-Haul place so I could rent a pickup overnight. I still had to get my headboard, foot board, amplifier and keyboard that I had left at my friend Lori's house last year when I first became homeless. Will do that in the morning because I ended Friday evening with what I had set out to do Thursday evening-have a steak. Though my company was another roommate this time and Blondie made it through her operation and will not have to wear a cast.

                Now, onto Monday, when in the afternoon, I am to meet with my current boss-who I already gave my resignation to-to go over any improvement I have made since my last write up. Yep, I have made excellent improvement. I have decided to take my talents elsewhere.

But I Don't Wanna Be A Diamond!

This was suppopsed to be done on the 19th but I decided to actually stay home because I am beat. And this early spring or lack of winter has my sinuses all in an uproar so I sound like a cokehead needing a fix. Sniff, sniff.

I picked up Ming Friday night from her former caretaker's home. He said she came home Thursday night, when his wife was there, and hadn't stopped meowing since. Once I held her in my arms she stopped, then she started up that wonderful motor of hers. She was well taken care of; her nails were trimmed and she hadn't lost any weight and she had been brushed. I wish I knew who had her so I could thank them. That's a letter to the editor, I suppose. She is now with my former neighbor in downtown Fairfield, where Mowgli is being nursed back to health. I spent some time with both of them Friday night while watching the 2nd episode of "Lillyhammer". Anita has me hooked on it. It's a Netflix production and stars Little Stevie Van Zant of E Street Band fame and also The Sopranos. It's pretty funny.

I still need to pick up the girls' things from their former caretaker's home. It was something I was supposed to do on Sunday, but didn't get to. I still need to clean out my car, which means I need to stop at one of my storage units and get stuff out. I can't wait for the day when I have everything with me and no more storage unit. But I can't do that until I have my own place.

I met with my caseworker on Thursday and the Director of the program asked if she could sit in. Of course, I said. I played for them a recording of GB (look in earlier posts to get the explanation) where she told me to "stay right there". That was after she went on her tirade of calling me all sorts of names and telling me, no yelling at me, to clean up the bathroom. Which is funny because she is the one who ate crackers in there and left one hell of a mess. When she is not on her medications, she grunts and can't stop eating. Needless to say, she wasn't on her meds. I told the caseworker that at the meeting and she said that GB says she grunts after taking her allergy meds because it gets stuck in her throat. Hmmm, she must be taking those meds 24/7 then. At the beginning of the meeting, the director wanted to know why I looked so sad. I don't know, could be because you are kicking me out by the 29th and I have nowhere to go, crappy credit and a temporary job? I mentioned that I wasn't looking forward to sleeping in my car and then went on to explain the circumstances. I think she rescinded the notice she gave me last Monday, but am not certain, so since this last thing is NOT in writing and the notice is, I will have to go with what is on the notice, which says I have to be out by the 29th. I think the director should be checked for Bi-polar as she goes through periods of euphoria and makes no sense and then has periods where she is down. Oh well, like both she and the caseworker said when I was talking about the grunting, I am not a psychiatrist so I cannot diagnose.

I looked for rooms Wednesday morning and Thursday in between interviews with Contra Costa County. One person with a room answered, but that was when Ming was missing. He said one cat is okay, two is too many. I called around about apartments, too, even calling the place across the street from where I lived on West Street for 15 years, but he won't have anything available until April. I need a permanent job; although I will get unemployment when this job ends, it is only half of what I get now, which would be $1400/month with no subsidies. The interviews I went on Thursday went well, but the morning one said I was overqualified and I was late to the afternoon one because the printer at the library took 15 minutes to print out what should have taken 2, so I was 10 minutes late. Oh well. I can only do what I can with what I have.

Tomorrow (Monday) is going to be interesting. I meet with my boss in the afternoon to go over any improvement I have made at work concerning the write up she gave me a few weeks back. It is mostly about being unprofessional, and it's true. I have allowed my home situation to leak into my work situation and that cannot happen. When I am at work, I need to focus on work and work only. I think I am doing better. But it doesn't matter what I think. What matters is what the boss thinks. I showed her the letter they gave me that says I have to be packing by the 29th, just so she knows where I am coming from. I did not choose to be homeless; but I am ultimately responsible for choices I make at work. It was and is a hard lesson to learn.

God wants me to be a diamond; I am content with being a lump of coal. Guess who wins?

Focus, Focus, Focus

Long time no write. It's been exactly seven days. Am at the Cordelia Starbuck's writing this as Suisun City closes at 9 or something. We certainly need a 24-hour Internet Cafe here...

On to my life. Mowgli is still alive. I have apologized to her immensely. She looks at as if to say, "Mommy, what did I do wrong? I will never do it again. I promise." Her crying meows say the same thing. I can't cry or get upset around her because then she would use her strength trying to comfort me instead of getting better. Although she has special food, with other cats in the household where she is staying, it is hard to keep the food separate. So I picked up the medicine for her ears and her former caretaker was correct-it's expensive. A hundred dollars a month in fact. When I can get a place, we are going back on the food because she will be the only cat. Then when that is over, we will go back to the pills. When she starts to feel better she will equate taking the pill with feeling better.

Dr. Cole did take some blood and the test came back what it would for any cat who has hyperthyroidism. She was surprised that other organs weren't harmed. I am relieved. Anita, who is taking care of her, is an awesome human being. I can't thank her enough. She is not only making sure Mowgli has her medicine but also takes time out of her day just to giver her loving. She missed that with the previous person. He is and always be a dog person, not one to cuddle up with a pet, but rather play with one.

Ming still hasn't shown up. I have her listed on Pet Harbor.com, put an ad in the paper and put posters out at the vet's office as well as around the neighborhood she walked away from. She had a hard life, the first nine of them being with my brother who shouldn't have pets as he has a hard enough time taking care of himself. Then she had a good life until I became homeless. I just feel like crap not knowing what happened to her. She had a hecka good purr on her and although it was painful, I will miss her jumping on my full bladder to gt me to wake up and feed her canned food.

As for my living situation, still the same. Although I think it's bogus that the rules are not applied to everyone equally. But I cannot think about that. I need to look ahead, to get out of there. Even if I live in a house for a few months to get enough money saved up for an apartment, that would work. The roommate who threatened me actually spoke to me today, so I suppose she is back on her meds. Before she would either yell or grunt. I do find it disgusting though, that she left cracker crumbs all over the bathroom (It had to be her because the other roommate who shares the bathroom with us is out of town this weekend.) as well as a rolled up used sanitary napkin. I tell myself to be grateful that she wrapped it up. It could have been worse. I stay away from there as much as I can ion order to keep my sanity. Anyone know of a room for rent in Suisun City or Fairfield that is NOT furnished and will accept a cat? Drop me a line if you know of one.

As for the job, I was written up on Wednesday. I am still short staffed because I had one person quit a the beginning of the season, another person got a full time job elsewhere and can only work weekends and a third person got into a car crash and is still out for three more weeks-Dr.'s orders. Needless to say, last Tuesday my boss and her boss came by at the most inopportune time; I was on the phone in the back dealing with a client who had not received her money yet (Thank you IRS!). When I made coffee that morning, I accidentally spilled some on the counter in the back and hadn't had a chance to clean it up. And in walks my boss and her boss. In any case, I was given a written warning for not being the "leader" they hired me to be and I must agree. My mind has been on other things than work, but it needs to be focused 110% on work. I did tell my boss that I was sorry it looked so bad and what had happened to me the Saturday prior. Unfortunately with my not always indoor voice and the thinness of the walls, apparently her boss who was out front helping clients, also heard what happened to me. I need this job. I need a permanent job but this will work for now. I cannot afford to lose a job, no matter what. I need to focus.

It's like my younger sister Maureen says, "How do you eat an elephant? One piece at a time." When I am at work, I need to focus only on work. When I am not at work I can concern myself with finding a place to live, locating Ming and getting Mowgli healthy. But since I need to focus on work at work, I am no longer allowed to bring this netbook to work. So if I am missing a blog for a day or two it just means I can't get to a wi-fi place to get it out. Because I am focusing. One piece at a time.

The girls in happier days. Ming on the left and a healthy weight Mowgli on the right.

Too Damn Sad for a Country Song

I am sitting at Starbuck's at the corner of Sunset and Merganser in my city, Suisun City, CA writing this missive. My shoulder still hurts, I am killing time until my cat's foster person gets home so I can take Mowgli to the vet. I will probably have to put her down to end her misery. No such luck for me. Ming ran away last Friday and hasn't come back. They have been staying with a friend in the country. Ming was 16 years old. I just hope her death was swift and painless. I wrote on my Facebook page last night that I was underserving of them and I still believe that. I got mad at Will Smith's character in "The Pusuit of Happyness" for dragging his son all around to different homeless shelters. How has my journey been any different? I should have pt them up for adoption but didn't for the same reason Smith's character did not allow his wife to take care of his son during that time in his life. My cats were the only "children" I have had. And becuase of my actions, they have suffered.
I am still shaking from Saturday morning's incident, where the roommate I previosly wrote about assaulted me. They moved her into another room-right next to the one I am staying in. The person in that room was gone for the weekend, so GB (Ghetto Bitch) spent most of Saturday night banging on the wall to keep me awake. I did nothing and said nothing. She will not get the best of me, no matter how many knives she sleeps with or how many threats she makes against my life.
My shrink gave me some ativan and I just took one. I hope it stops the tremors. All I wanted was the door closed for a few minutes so I could read my Bible and pray in peace. But being the GB she is, she insisted that the door stay open and I could not have any peace and quiet. She slammed the door open and even left a huge mark in the wall and broke a piece of wood off the door. Then she got in my face, balled up her fist, and yelled at me that she was going to "fucking kill" me. When she was yelling she was spitting and I asked her to stop. She said she wasn't spitting. I stepped back, but she body slammed me, hurting my left shoulder and hocked up some nasty stuff and spat it at me. I walked away out into the living room where the 911 phone is located and dialed. I was shaking then as I am now, a little bit more then though. She continued to yell from the bedroom, calling me "a big fat bitch" and such. You should be able to hear it on the 911 call.
The police came but told me that writing a report would just be a bunch of work for nothing. She lied to them, saying I assaulted her and-get this-that I was a racist because I was afraid of black people! (Yep, Kelvin, you scare the BeJesus outta me!) I can't remember the last time I hit anyone it has been so long. And I wouldn't touch that skank with a 10-foot pole. Police left and the Program manager just moved her into the room next door. When that person cam home yesterday, the GB didn't complain about not having the door open. What more proof does anyone need that she is harassing me?
GB has turned her smoking buddy-who was a friend of mine-against me, saying I am a liar and just doing anything I can to get my own room. I have less than 30 days left to get out of there and I care about whether I have my own room or not? I am working 12 hour days. I come home only to shower and sleep. The only meal I wat there is breakfast but can't do that anymore unless there is a witness. She won't do anything to me as long as someone else is around.
Work is kind of tough, but that's what I signed up for. I am blessed to be working. I know that. But when I get off I just want to go home and be in peace. But as long as GB is there, she will do anything to try and annoy me, up to and including assault.
When she complained that all she got was a small pillow, I gavce her one of my personal pillows as well as my own personal pillowcase. I mentioned that in a note to the previous friend-GB's smoking buddy. When I came home last night I found the pillowcase thrown on the ground outside our door. She is still allowed in the room-why I don't know since she has no possessions in there-but that is what the program manager said. So GB took advantage of that to throw my pillowcase on the ground, outside. Not neatlty folded like I handed it to her.
If I was only allowed to have my cats with me,. They comforted me. Mowgli, how can I ever repay you? You loved me like no one in the world and I abandoned you and Ming. That was the whole thing-the carrot-I was reaching for. To get my own place so we could be together again. Instead Ming has vanished and you are probably too far gone to save. A month ago the person who was supposed to be taking care of you ran out of medication. He didn't call me to let me know. So your thyroid went crazy and I understand why you haven't kept yourself clean. Your organs are shutting down and you can barely move. And it is all my fault. I am so sorry, Mowgli. I didn't mean to to cause you or Ming harm.
My life is just too damn sad right now. Even a country artist couldn't sing about it.

29 Medications

The last time we spoke I told you of my new roommate and what could be done for people like her. Because I am a kind person, I wish no ill upon her. I just wish she would take her meds so I could sleep.

That's right. When she doesn't take her meds, she is up all night, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. She has taken to putting blankets over all the windows then complains because I would rather not sleep with the light on. There is a light outside of our sliding glass door that is on all the time because most of the outdoor lights at the residence do not work and have not worked since we moved in 2 months ago. I do believe it is a violation of HUD Housing rules, but I cannot do anything about it because if I turn the organization in, I will have nowhere to lay my head at night. Being homeless sucks.

But back to the roommate situation. She announced Sunday that she was no longer going to take her 29 medications. She didn't like the way they made her feel. She said they made her sleepy and she didn't want to sleep her life away. Instead, she is up all night. Because there is a rule that states a program participant can be written up and given a strike (three strikes and you're back on the street) if they are in a common area between the hours of midnight and 7am, she has taken to eating in bed. Loudly. I woke up Monday morning around 2 because she was clanking dishes together. She had warmed up the leftover breakfast from that morning and was having "breakfast in bed". When she finished with that, it was time for her to sing. Poor thing has a beautifuol voice, but even Pavarotti at 3am sounds terrible. I finally got back to sleep around 4am only to be woken again at 5 with her durmming her hands on the kitchen table. She had opened our door, which is why the other people in the house didn't hear it and I did.

Earlier in the day she had decided to mop the bathroom floor. There has been a problem with ants since we moved in and they had come to the bathroom. I bought some of those ant traps that the ants go into and bring the poison back to their nest. I was able to get rid of the ants from our bathroom in the old house that way. Thing is, you have to let the ants be. I explained this to her, yet she threw away the ant trap on Saturday, so I got two more. During her mopfest on Sunday, she slopped water all over the traps, rendering them useless. She refuses to allow the traps to work. They do, when you let them. I already got rid of ants in pantry using this method. I have since run out of ant traps and the program refuses to purchase any, which I am certain is once again against HUD rules, but we visited that outcome earlier. The ants rule the bathroom now.

Loud noises, ruined ant traps, wow, seems like nothing will make me happy. Actually, a good night's rest between these 12 hour workdays might do the trick, but Monday night came and once again, loudness. The other roommate-who has her own room-decided the whole house needed to hear her radio at 11pm. She probably didn't realize she did it because she was stinking drunk, yes, another violation of HUD rules and even the house rules, but unless the Program Director sees it, it doesn't exist. And we are not allowed to contact the Program Director or the Case Manager outside of the hours of 9am and 4pm M-F. Because we all know that is when disturbed people decide to try and ruin other people's lives.

In addition to the loud noises at 11pm, the roommate decides it's time for more food in bed. Apparently she wants everyone to know she is eating because she smacks her lips at every chance. She turns on her computer and decides to play computer games, which would not bother me in the least if she either turned the volume off or wore headphones. She does neither. I ask her to turn it down and she tells me I cannot tell her what to do, that there are already too many rules in this place. I can't take 2 sleepless nights and work 12-hour days. My mind cannot process it. I text the case manager and ask her what she is going to do about this situation, that it is 11pm-actually midnight by this time-and I cannot sleep because the roommate refuses to take her medications and she is acting irrational. I had sent an email to the case manager, program director and Director of the organization Monday, explaining my concerns. I heard nothing back. Which is why I texted her. Still no response. Two nights without sleep and 12-hour workdays with angry clients (Thank you IRS).

Tuesday night I have had it. I don't care if she doesn't want to take her medications. She NEEDS to. Her lack of judgement is having a negative affect on my life. I cannot sleep because she is once again loud. Another roommate, who is the same race as the one who shares my room, and my roommate are no more than 10 feet away from each other, but yelling at the top of their lungs at each other. They are not mad; in fact they are having one hell of a time. I am told that is how persons of that race communicate. I disagree. I know many people of that race and they do possess and utilize inside voices. I try to get to sleep, it is now 11:30pm, after working my 2nd consecutive 12 hour day and my 12th consecutive day. I just want to sleep. But I can't. She has decided she wants Christmas lights on all the time in the room and wants these dark blankets over the window. I feel like I am in someone's bizarre nightmare and since I have no control, I cannot wake up. (Yes, I would love to wake up from this nightmare. Unfortunately, it is my life right now. Yeah, I get the irony). I ask her to please take the blankets down, that having them up makes me on edge. She says NO. She is a rape victim and I have to do what she wants because she is paranoid. I ask her if she has taken her meds and she says she doesn't have to. Well, let's see, if you were on your meds, you wouldn't be so damn paranoid. I, too, have been the victim of rape, but I still deal with life. And I take my meds.

I NEED my sleep. I am going crazy because my brain cannot process this life without rest. My roommate could care less. The world must conform to her whims. Around 11:30pm, I text the case manager again asking if she is getting any sleep because I am not due to the actions of her organization. Still no response. Until midnight that is.

All of a sudden someone slams through the door, orders the roommate out of the room and starts yelling at me. It is the program director telling me I have no right to text the case manager outside of the 9am to 4pm M-F hours. I try to tell her that I am unable to sleep and my work is being affected because this roommate will not let me sleep. When she is not eating, singing or yelling, she is grunting-a symptom of her not taking her meds. But I am unable to get through to the program director because she hates me. All I can figure is that she is jealous of me. Because I have done nothing wrong. All I want is a good night's sleep and I am being deprived of that. She continues to yell at me and tell me that I am going to get "another" strike (I was unaware I already had one.) and that I was going to be kicked out of the program for contacting them outside of work hours. She will not let me get a word in edgewise because her focus is punishing me. I am doing everything I can in my power to get out of this situation. But the Mantra that she chants to us weekly-"If you don't like it, you can leave. There are plenty more where you came from. You won't be missed." is once again yelled at me. And I pay rent for this treatment.

She apparently tells the roommate that I have been bitching about her computer being on-I mentioned it once to the case manager the morning after she first moved in but don't have a problem if she uses headphones-and that she is no longer allowed to have it on. The roommate now starts yelling at me and threatening my life because I just want to sleep. But since she can't have the computer on and wants a light on, she opens the door and says it has to stay open because she is a rape victim. (Gee, perhaps if you took the medications that were prescribed to you, you wouldn't bve so damned paranoid) Then she starts playing with one of those plastic bags that are still legal in CA (but soon to be banned) because it makes noise. She starts with the grunting and clearing her throat and playing with the bag and it is a caucaphony of noise and my brain just can't take it anymore. I start to cry and I can't stop. No matter how hard I try, the tears keep coming. She starts yelling at me because-get this-she can't sleep with me crying! Mind you, she has no job and has lived off of yours and my tax dollars her whole life because she is a "rape victim". I finally doze off to sleep, but because my nose is stuffed, am unable to use my CPAP machine. I must have been sawing logs-did you hear 'em?

This morning I get up late because I needed a few hours of sleep before taking on another 12-hour day. I write down what has transpired since she decided to go off her meds, so there is a record of it. I move all of my clothes out of her side of the closet-she didn't have much when she moved in and told me I could use it-and in the process accidentally knock down a pair of her pants that she has stacked up in the closet. She told me I dropped some clothes and I say I think it's yours. I put all of my clothes on my bed and go out to have breakfast. Next thing I know, she comes out of the bedroom threatening me again. She threatens to harm me for "touching" her stuff (actually my clothes touched her stuff) and says she can't wait for me to go to work so she can throw all of my stuff all over the room. I try to apologize and she just continues to threaten and yell at me. I give up. It is no use.

When she is on the 29 medications, she might be a little tired some of the time, but is okay to get along with. My question is, how do we make certain these people take their meds? Is there some sort of gene therapy where a surgery can be done to turn a gene on or off in one's system so they automatically have the effects of the medications? If not, I hope one emerges soon. I need some sleep.