Here it is, about two months since I’ve created this new blog, hoping it would provide the space that I needed to become creative again. But, silly me, I forgot the most important part of making this blog work as a creative outlet, WRITING! I apoloogize to the few of you who have checked up on my blog with no reward. I resolve to write more in 2009.
Not much has changed since the last time I wrote, still jobless, still surviving. The question arises: HOW?
Allow me to take you on a journey of the past four months of my life, where I’ve spent my time, how I’ve spent it, who I’ve spent it with, how I’ve earned an income, my run-in with the cops and my close encounter with an alien.
The majority of time has been spent in my house, a lot of time, specifically in my room. It has been my job searching office, my sleeping quarters, my meditation space, my hideout, and currently my blog office. Adjusting to life back in the city, back into the “real world” has been difficult, to put it simply. And though some days, filled with hopeless job searching, I have wanted to be anywhere other than my room, most days it serves as a place of comfort, somewhere to retreat to, to become recharged. My room is just one room in an eight bedroom house in a not-so-great neighborhood. I live with other former volunteers in a house that was formerly inhabited by priests, one of whom lived with us for a few months before moving on to his next assignment. More about him later. The house is complete with a chapel, pictures of popes, and a coffeemaker. I live with four other people, my age, who are either working or in school.
The next place where I have spent a lot of time is in transit, on public buses, or waiting for buses which is where most of my good stories come from. For example, one day while waiting for a bus that coincidently after my stop continues on to a local university, a woman approached me.
Her hair a frazzled mess, a long raincoat on that was inappropriate for the weather, and a large, tattered suitcase on wheels. These three things gave her away as homeless. There is a special place in my heart for homeless individuals. I know the value of a good, warm place to rest your bones and am certain that I could not survive without one. I have been lucky not to have that tested. With that in mind, any time I encounter someone who could use a warm smile, someone to talk to, and welcomes such interactions, I am eager to oblige. In any case, she asked me for spare change. Since I am jobless and take the bus, the truth is no change is ever spare. I informed her, but she continued to talk, complimenting me on my “beautiful blue eyes” and my “bright smile”. She encouraged me to go into acting, which is a completely absurd career path for someone as allergic to attention as I am. She asked if I was going to the university, when I told her no, that I had already graduated from a different university two years before in English Literature, she said that I should be a writer instead. Thanks for the vote of confidence, lady at the bus stop.
Just as I thought our conversation was ending, she asked one last thing that I didn’t quite catch, but since her tone went up at the end, I knew it was a question. “What?” I inquired, hoping she would repeat herself, but this time a little more clearly.
“Are you going up too?”
What did she mean? Please note that the word “too” written is much less ambiguous than if spoken. Was it an incomplete thought? “…up to… the farmers’ market” for example? My mind went back to the university, but I had already told her I wasn’t going there. I didn’t say anything, but my puzzlement must have shown on my face because she followed with something equally incomprehensible as the first question, attempting to clarify. Not much was clear, but in the split second that I deciphered the word “planet”, she was fed up with the misunderstanding and bluntly put it in plain english so that no mistakes could be made about it, “OUTER SPACE!”
I stood for a minute to let the words settle in the air. Outer Space. “Ooooh… not today.” I said with a smile as I walked toward my arriving bus. Though I do enjoy talking with strangers who seem like they could use a little company, I don’t like to encourage delusions, but I didn’t think it was my place or really my responsibility to pull her out of it. Thus I ended my encounter with an alien.
So this is the first of a fill-you-in series of posts, so please come back and read some more later before you join me on my current jobless adventure.