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Health & Fitness

Hopeless People in Hopeless Situtations

Saying that a person is "...in a hopeless situation..." lives right next door to saying the actual individual is hopeless. So this post is mostly for Special Ed, who made the comment. He is a self-described fat cat who also "works in the community kitchen" here in Livermore. He had much more to say, in general, over the course of several comments. Ed was responding to my post: Regarding the Hatred Expressed Thus Far. He seems to despise the people who stand in line for meals, Special Ed does not seem to believe that his "helping" the poor via volunteering has any good effect. He's burning out, I think, and may need to take off his apron for a while. Before he starts spitting in the food. I am going to try and clear up some of his misinformation and debunk some of his myth-making via my own status here.

I am an insider/outsider; which may position me as a good observer of the homeless situation in this suburban oasis. Because I can not afford rent here I live in an RV that I drove across country. I took a long look at what lay ahead for me, as a disabled senior citizen of these United States of America. (Yes, Ed, I am a citizen too.) I hold a master of fine arts degree from a private university on the East coast. I've had to say that before and I'm sorry Ed, et al, that you get tired of hearing it but the rage just keeps coming about the invasion of the no-account drifters...My undergrad and graduate study years paralleled nine years as a direct service human service provider. I was an ad hoc art therapist in a day shelter, a life-skills instructor, a computer tutor, a job developer, a supervisor in a shelter for women and children. I ran a clothing service for work-ready dual-diagnosed adults, traveled with a team doing seminars on all of the above (via a HUD grant). My graduate studies were in the fields of social arts and sciences  and as a creative writer, nonfiction genre. I've got some hefty street creds as well, I can mix it up with the best of the high and the low--at least verbally. I grew up on the streets for whatever reasons. And I got out. At least until I became disabled with RA, osteoporosis and depression. I couldn't ride a bike if I got paid for trying. I still pay on my student loans. My vehicle is insured and registered. Not much left over after all that and gasoline and phone. Now don't start, gentle reader, the phone can be a separate issue. Agreed? 

To sum it all up: I decided to submit to a publishing house and do all the self-promotion in the Livermore area and surrounding communities, including San Francisco. Why not? I was headed to Oregon, which is home for me, when I ran out of money and miles. There are plenty of charities, jails, prisons, probation departments, social service agencies, shelters, classrooms and agencies where my nonfiction manuscript will be relevant to the work done by those serving the poor/dual-diagnosed/homeless across the state. Whew. I know. But I've been called hopeless and a mooch and everything else. Not true. I have a plan; I am a decent person in need of help in the short-term. Unless, of course, I face another crisis like an injury or accident. Then it will all take a little longer to get up and out. Meanwhile I can volunteer here in service to the homeless, my words may change the mind-set of a few who despise and fear what they do not understand.

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