I do not lie, at least I avoid it as much as possible

 I do not lie, at least I avoid it as much as possible. It is a point of pride for me to express myself with honesty.

Remember what I said about the brain and how it tells us stories, false ones and true ones. The stories it tells are expressions of our inner thoughts and beliefs. 

This morning I was awakened my loud voices in the hall so being who I am I went to investigate to find my son with a homeless man and to catch a glimpse of a female fleeing the scene. What I found before that was another pile of emptied garbage bags strewn between the k-wing exit and the basement exit in the hall between the wings.

My words to the man were "I trust you guys not to make a mess when you get inside". Or words to that effect anyway, making it sound like I actually opened the door and let them into the building. That was my brain blaming me because I didn't check the door after K3 came in at midnight and I should have. While I didn't technically open the door and say come in I might as well have. My failure to check the door allowed them inside.

In that my son is correct in saying I lied but I wasn't lying about the actually opening the door and letting them in. I feel that it was my responsibility because I didn't go check to make sure the door was closed and because I figure if they do get in it is because they need to be. Does that make sense... the words I need to express the feeling are not coming out properly.

I didn't let them in by opening the door, I let them in by not making sure the door was shut tight.

If they came into a building that was open, they did so because they needed shelter. I would not deny them shelter but by accepting that shelter they owe the building some respect?. 

Again I lose the logic behind the thought. It makes sense in my head but I can't articulate it.

Shelter should be a right but if they bring garbage inside or otherwise mess up the building then they do not deserve it. They should treat the building the way they would treat their own home. You don't bring garbage into your home you take it out. You do not shit on the floors of your home or allow your pet to, you use a bathroom and/or you clean it up. You don't just walk away and let it sit there.

 

Sunday March 23- Coming to Ground

 Coming to ground
touching down
looking around
I am here
where I should be.

Touching down
looking around
I am found
I flourish
where I should be

Looking around
I am found
in my place
I am home
where I should be

Coming to ground
I look around
I have found
my reason to be
where I am.

Well that was interesting those words found their way to my hands without spending much time in my head. I am glad and for the first time I feel like I have finally reached my reason for being on this planet, in this town, in this building. So many roads lead me back here where I first found happiness.

Short though the story may be I met my ex-husband on the front steps of this church and for 5 years I was happy. I still do not know for sure when that changed but I think it was on the trip we took out to BC to visit a friend of ours and ended up staying for a couple of years. Everything changed after that between him and I and I do not know why. Not the topic I was planning but it is preying on my mind so out it must come.

We packed us, two kids and a big grey cat into a mustang and headed out west to visit our friend who had moved out there. We took everything we had with up because we were looking for a new life.

Back in those days you could travel from Ontario to British Columbia without any money. Each night we would stop in a large town or city and visit the nearest Welfare office. They would direct us to any nearby shelters we could sleep at and give us a $100 bucks or so for food and other necessities. The next day we would do it again. 

When we arrived in Britannia Beach, we stayed with our friend for a few days until we could find an apartment. We ended up in Squamish in a nice apartment building. The kids loved it and so did I but he (my KISA, as I called him), didn't. Thats not quite right there is information missing in my head because I do not remember how he felt about it and I should.

There are a few highlights like finding a super thrift shop that became a favourite place to visit and my work at Whistler cleaning up after tourists, climbing the mountain and seeing a mountain lake for the first time.

The memories are very disjointed. I fell down a flight of steps going to the basement, though I'm not sure why I was going into the basement at all unless it was to do laundry. There was a shadow behind me that I feel pushed me so I stumbled on the stairs but I think I staggered but managed to maintain my feet.

There was the man KISA claimed was his uncle who managed the building and who tried to hypnotize me and got pissy when I broke the trance by laughing.

There was a woman who I thought KISA was having an affair with.

When we decided to leave because he was missing his mother (I think that is why we left, he wanted to come back to Peterpatch), I gave some money to the kids and put them on the bus because we were not sure we would be able to places to sleep for four of us and a cat. 

I don't remember the trip back at all beyond an argument because I thought we had more money to travel with then I found in my purse. I accused him of giving some of it to his lover. 

Its such a jumbled mess because maybe the man did manage to hypnotize me and planted the thought of KISA cheating on me, because the shadow that pushed me evolved into KISA. I don't know, that is the story I remember but I am beginning to think there are too many blank spots, that it is not the true story. That things didn't go the way I thought they did and that it wasn't KISA's fault, that my anger was misplaced.

I still feel anger when I meet with him and it feels that every word out of his mouth is a lie and I am not that person. I have never been that kind of person. It feels wrong, incorrect, like maybe it was a dream or an implanted memory. I've always thought that I broke the trance with a laugh before I fall too deep yet what if I didn't?

What if it is like the fever dream that turned pleased laughter and cheers into scornful laughter and jeers from when I danced with the shadows after watching my first ballet? It is scary what the mind can convince us is true even when we know it can not be. 

I admit to some jealousy because KISA has had some of his poetry published, while only one of mine was. The difference of course is that he got himself someone to publish it for him while I never really tried. My poetry was my way of dealing with what ever shit was going on in my life. I had no plans to publish it yet I feel jealous that he did manage that and so much else in his life.

Its weird I have known I was standing still in much of my life, not taking chances but I never understood why. I just say I am not competitive, I don't push I drift. Nothing has ever been that important to me that I would chase it, nothing. Perhaps I need to find that drive.

Perhaps I have found it, the thing that is important to me but I can't even put it into words properly. I want to help the homeless and the addicts through little acts of service as I have done since last summer. I want to provide shelter for them. I have no idea how to go about it and I am terrified to try.

What if I start and it is too much for me? Drifting is easier. Fear really is a mind killer. Fear is the enemy I have to find and overcome. Isn't it?

New Day New Problems

 For some reason I can not sleep this night, rather it is the time change, or just insomnia I don't know. I walked 13966 steps today I should be exhausted but instead my body is jumping all over the place. It itches, it aches, I close my eyes and try to blank out the world save for my fan and even the white noise isn't enough to let me rest. My body is restless and my mind scattered.

Such nights I thought were long gone from my life. I wonder if I am finally getting a touch of Spring Fever. I do not think so because it is early yet for that. I feel cold, then I feel hot. My legs dance at my desk but not in the bed and yet still I can not sleep.

Its like someone put itching powder in my bed or something except it isn't just my bed that itches me but my clothing as well.

None of it makes sense and on top of all that a package I'd been waiting for was delivered by an incompetent driver who left it on the front step of my apartment building, they didn't even call to let me know the package had been delivered. 

If I had not checked my email I wouldn't have known until tomorrow at the earliest (today I guess it being almost 6 am  here). My phone number was on the package, the building is a renovated church and if they had been paying any attention they would have realized it isn't a great neighbourhood yet they did not call they just took a photo of the front door and left the package on the outside stairs. Which means within 5-10 minutes of it being left it was being lifted.

Today after coffee at the appropriate time I will be calling the delivery company to issue a complaint. They are located in burnaby bc so I will have to wait until 9am their time before I can call which will make it around noon here.

 

Another Conversation in my head

 Sometimes my thoughts settle into repeat mode, what they repeat are conversations I feel I need to have but am a bit afraid to follow through on.

Case in point the continued disrespect being shown to what is sacred ground even if it is no longer used as a church. At first it was a few scavengers going through the dumpster looking for the gods only know what, at first. If you looked outside Keith Hall right now you would be disgusted. They have been taking everything out of the dumpster and spreading it around the dumpster area and lately have been targeting the wheelchair ramp ... THE FRICKING WHEELCHAIR RAMP! which at least 4 tenants require the daily use of.

It wasn't enough to turn the connecting hall and the upstairs into a dumpster now they are preventing the free movement of wheelchair bound and walker users. Talk about disrespect, which brings me to the conversation I keep having in my brain.

At the end of the lane is a crackhouse which up until the last big snowstorm in early February didn't cause any issues. Since then the issues have excalated as I mentioned above. I want to take my spear and go pay them a visit. Just to talk, the spear is just in case they start something physical with me.

Just to talk but what would I say well the beginning is easy. The spear is not a threat it is a promise, if someone starts getting physical with me I WILL retaliate. 

I want to talk about the disrespect being displayed towards the old Knox church in general and Keith Hall in particular. Garbage belongs inside the dumpster not thrown all over the place and not on the ramp or in the building. For the life of me I don't understand why after you go through the bags you don't return them to the dumpster. I mean if you got them out putting them back is easy and would cause less anger towards your community.

The deliberate blocking of the ramp and front door of Keith hall is another issue with the same solution. If you need light to see whats in the bags that's fine but why on earth would you leave the mess on the step or ramp when the dumpster is right there?

Its a simple fix, it's called cleaning up after yourself instead of making it so other people have to do it for you as if you are a baby. That is all I ask, clean up after yourself, it is a church for crying out loud and it is a home of physically and mentally handicapped folks not a fucking dump. 

I will find out who is responsible and I will have them charged if needs be, oh and a promise if the cops don't punish you for your disrespect then the gods and I will.

End of conversation. Any questions? Good , thank you for your time.

That's it except I don't know if I'm brave enough to go there and follow through with the actual conversation. Depends how much angrier I get I suppose. Wish me luck and courage if you please, I'd like that.

Diet Restrictions make for interesting dishes

 I am lactose intolerant to the point where lactose products seem to go right through me. I am also a fan of experimenting with recipes just because.

A few days ago for instance I mixed up some my mr. noodles with vegetable soup and chicken broth and mushroom soup. I didn't add any milk and it turned out lovely just a little spicy and very filling.

There are others I've tried as well but I think today was really good and it was simple. To start off I cooked a half pound of ground beef in the oven until it was nearly cooked through. About 5 minutes or so before I pulled it out of the oven I covered the upper side with black pepper.

I cut that in half and added it to a standard stroganoff hamburger helper mix.  Instead of adding regular milk I added almond milk and cooked it according to the directions. The almond milk gave the sauce a sweetish taste and the pepper added some heat. I was so good.

I just felt the need to share what I mean when I say I am a creative cook. So far I've never made something that tasted horrible though sometimes the flavour is a bit odd. 

I'd love to hear of any recipes you have made that were made with non-standard ingredients too.

 

mind over matter?

 Another night where my mind will simply not shut up until I write what is going on in it.

Today was strange or maybe it is just my thoughts. I did not get out of bed until 3pm not because I slept that long, I just couldn't seem to get myself moving until L called me and asked me if I wanted to go for a walk with him. I jumped at the chance because it got me up and moving.

We walked all about 6 km and talked about many things starting with why he was in a pensive mood and ending discussing a house he had a large interest in. Got to admit I liked it too. We were invited in for a quick look see of the main floor which included a formal dining room and a kitchen I could be tempted to kill for with a view that was exquisite. For me the energy in that house was filled with feelings of love and joy. It made me a bit hyper and talkative which is unusual for me.

When we got back we stopped to talk to Alex and Dillon  who are also tenants here. We were talking about the disaster I mentioned yesterday and I asked for a cigarette cause I thought it would calm me but instead it made me even more talkative though I found myself repeating the same words over and over in a rambling way like I was high or something. Eventually I wound down and we came inside. 

Quick side note I did see Cash and tell her she wasn't welcome here anymore, I think that is when I realized I was a bit out of control and decided me on going inside. Just as well I did cause things got a little fuzzy and I got sick to my stomach. That is typical for me every time I smoke tobacco these days.

Anyway my behaviour outside was on my mind when I went to lie down to sleep just now. From there it went back to the house and then to the place where my thought started running an imaginary conversation that wouldn't shut up.

In Buckhorn where I grew up is a place where the first house I ever lived in 2 brothers and a sister later it burned down  or rather was caused to burn down by my mother. My dad was fine with six of us living in a two room shack my mom not so much.

I went back twice now to get in touch with that place and certain memories of it I want to deal with and both times I was interrupted before I could even begin to process it, so I was thinking I want to go back and try one more time this summer. 

I suspect my cousin will appear just as she has the last two times but this time I need to get through it so I have decided that I will tell her to go away so I can do what I came to do. I don't think it will go over well but I need to do this and I need to do it without interruption and I will tell her so. Hopefully she will go back down the hill to her own house and allow me to do what I need to do.

That is the conversation that was going round and round in my head. Maybe now it will stop.

 

Once upon a time

 That is how fairy tales start and I wish the last week was just a story!

I am a disciple of Aphrodite  and for years I did my spells as women for thousands of years have done on my back. As age creeps up on me I no longer have that option open to me so I opened my heart and my home as a place of acceptance for those who have no home of their own. I do not regret my decision except to those who abuse the options I offer. This story is about one such person she calls herself Cash/Ash depending on who she is talking to. Her name on the street is "No Pants".

I do not know how long she has been on the street though she appears to be in her mid-twenties so upwards of a decade possibly. She does not wear anything to cover her privates as far as I can tell so that she doesn't have to find a bathroom. When she needs to go she just goes like an animal would.

At first she seemed reasonably mentally stable aside from that little issue mentioned above. I treated her as I did any others who came to my window giving food and water as I had it available. 

Until one day I found her in the building at my door. That was my first glimpse into her mental instability, it was a cold night and while she had a reasonable top on she wore only a simple piece of cloth around her privates like a skirt and a longish coat.  I dismissed it as a casual thing and allowed her inside my door. I gave her a granola bar and sent her on her way, though a little creeped out that she was in the building at my door

So far so good right, a few small issues. However the next time I saw her she was back to the rag around her privates and she stunk. I later found her asleep in the hall, the back of her legs were shit stained. I didn't say anything about it because I assumed it was just a minor episode and she would be back to herself (as I saw her at the time) the next time I saw her.

No I was not stupid I was being tolerant which is something I'm pretty good at. The next time she came back she was decently covered again and she didn't smell so I invited her to sit and rest. I made her a coffee and offered her evaporated milk for it. I didn't realize until she left that she had used the whole can. Now you would think that that would sour me on her but when she came to my door the next time I gave her food and sent her on her way.

That was the first time she asked for money. I don't keep any money around except my laundry money so it was an easy no. She came around a couple of more times and I gave her the granola bars like usual  but did not allow her in. Again she asked for money and again I told her no.

The next time she came I just sent her on her way as I was out of granola bars and she was beginning to stink again. The next time she came I just told her to go to the sleeping place. A bit later maybe half an hour or so I went looking for her as I felt a little guilty about not giving her food. 

I found her in the hallway cleaning up some garbage that was in the hall. Someone had dumped a couple of garbage bags on the floor in there. She was cleaning it up when I found her so I did not suspect her. Now I am not so sure.

After the last big storm I went out to go somewhere and there was garbage all over the step. Since I had refused to open the door to anyone before and after the storm I figured it was retaliation by someone because the door was blocked.

Last night someone knocked on my door and I told them to go away, I later found out that it was Cash, she had been bugging Len since I hadn't answered the door for awhile. This morning I woke up to find the connecting hall had had several garbage bags dumped in them including some food. Later that day I found out that someone had done the same to the front step and the stairs leading to the upstairs units. I was also told that the loft area where they sleep had also been trashed.

Now I don't know why the retaliation essentially tripled but it was the last straw for me, after informing the building management I preformed a protection spell for the building and I am hoping that will be enough to prevent it from happening again.

I am so tempted to go to the crack house and tell them that the church is now off limits to everyone since one of their number turned the building into a dumpster but I do not want to stir that particular pot so I am writing my thoughts out instead.

Respect is big with the street life and I gotta wonder why that respect doesn't apply to building interiors of course it could be that she is just one of the crazy ones. 

I'd say that only about 10% of the street people would do something like this but it makes it hard for people like me to help the other 90% without some of the anger at the disrespect coming through.

No happy ending, just an ending I hope.