For those who frequent my blog, and apparently there are a few of you, it’s apparent that I have not attended to this project as much lately. Reading the last blog I posted, it should come as no surprise why, but I’ll start from June 2016 to catch you up.
Living in South Carolina sucks. If you’re from there, you’re probably a cousin-fucking Trump supporter. I mean, the very first person I met when I relocated to the state warned me to “watch out for them niggers.” Like seriously? So after about three quarters of a year, I decided to bolt with $10,000 to California.
During my time researching the place, my friend, Holden, had discovered some long lost relatives of mine in the area I was going. One that I was able to reach out to was an aunt named DeAnna. We connected on Facebook and I was invited to stay with her temporarily until I was on my feet.
It did not take me long to realize that she was a nutcase, but I remained cordial to her since I was a guest in her home (the smallest pull behind trailer I’ve ever seen). During the month and a half I had any presence at all in her life, I was gone for a solid two weeks after purchasing a used Volkswagen Jetta for exactly half of my $10,o00. My road trip consisted of seeing family I had not visited in ten years in Texas, securing the remainder of my belongings in South Carolina, and seeing some old friends in Tennessee and Colorado, as well as stopping in Las Vegas for the first time. All in all, my trip was roughly $2,000, meaning that I had roughly $3,000 left.
After I returned from my trip, I immediately found work as a General Manager of a Del Taco in Ventura. Unfortunately, the job was unbearable due to employees who were more or less tenured who had no desire to change their slovenly ways. However, I was going to tolerate it long enough for me to take full control of the store after my training and then clean house.
My plan did not work out that way. During the time I worked there, my aunt began to show her true colors, exhibiting behaviors of a mentally unstable person. I wasn’t surprised; she evidently had a hard life between being a former crackhead prostitute and alienating everyone in her life. I also spent roughly $500 on miscellaneous things for her as a way of showing my appreciation for her allowing me to stay there, but somehow was expected to do even more like buy her a brand new 32″ television, even though she had a perfectly good one to begin with, which I thankfully never did.
One day, she snapped when I walked in on what I can only guess was an attempt to seduce a much younger coworker whom she had manipulated many times into buying her things. She told me she wanted me to leave by the end of the month, and rather than do that, I left the next day. I have not talked to her since, but did leave a scathing letter describing how much of a bitch she was.
Ventura was never my preferred location. I only went there due to my aunt’s insistence. Since I no longer had any real reason to stay, other than a friend named Mandi who I could talk to for hours and frequently met up with, I figured it was time to move on. I quit my job at Del Taco and chilled in the town for a couple of weeks until I could figure out my next move.
What that move turned out to be was a job as a sign spinner for a pot shop in Santa Ana, located in Orange County. If you are from the area, you may be asking why I couldn’t find anything closer? The truth is that I applied for a lot of jobs in Ventura before getting the job at Del Taco and was incredibly discouraged to find that unless they know you, you’re unlikely to be hired anywhere. I showed up in a suit handing out resumes at gas stations and the managers would simply dismiss me. Orange County seemed to have a few jobs that paid quickly and required nothing other than being a live human being. And given that I was now living in my car and could relocate easily, it seemed like a no brainer.
Unfortunately, the job proved to be incredibly inconsistent, and after only a week and a half, I had no choice but to quit. I could never get a schedule more than a couple of hours before the shift began, and in lieu of seeing a supervisor, I was graded on my “performance” by the client (the pot shop manager, in this case), who seemed like a complete airhead. I was also paid via PayPal as opposed to being issued an actual check, which seemed really shady. But I did receive all my wages and didn’t have to pay any taxes on them, so I suppose they had good intentions.
During the next couple of months, I would look online for work, coming across nothing that seemed like a promising full time position. I did find work for a food truck, owned and operated by good Christian people (a rare find in Southern California, as I’ve discovered). The truck only had five or six venues a month, but it was enough to keep me from starving until I was able to acquire my California license and began collecting food stamp benefits.
I did find a few similar jobs, in that they had no brick and mortar business and met rarely, mostly paid under the table. I did eventually find a more stable position with another food truck, The Cut, but due to problematic encounters with certain staff members, I felt it was in my best interest to cut loose from them and at least have a positive job reference.
Despite employment instability, I found myself actually making headway on financial stability. Between the sparse wages and the money I was receiving from the county through their General Relief program, and given the fact I have very few bills, I found myself starting to see a light at the end of the tunnel. Not too much longer and I would have my own place and could stop living in my car.
Then some jackass ruined it for me. Driving down Chapman in Fullerton, I was rear-ended, which caused me to hit the car in front of me. The jackass who hit me then took off, thereby leaving me to literally pick up the pieces. This left me without a car, shelter, and subsequently unable to continue working due to transportation issues. Basically, my life was ruined in the blink of an eye. Whoever you are that did this to me, I hope you rot in Hell.
I will also say that the Fullerton PD are a bunch of dicks. One day, I’ll write a more detailed blog related to their excessive force killing a homeless man and nearly being disbanded as a result, but I will say that even though I was the victim of a crime, I was treated as though I were the perpetrator. At one point, I had to ask the cop to stop being a smart ass, which I’ve never had to ask an officer before. Full disclosure, I don’t like cops, but these assholes took the entire fucking cake.
The next couple of days really messed with my head. I was more or less trapped in that neighborhood with a car I couldn’t reasonably trust not to be towed away if I left it unattended due to its condition. Eventually I was able to have it towed, as my former boss granted permission to leave it with them until I knew what I was going to do with it. As an added bonus, they offered to do the bare minimum in getting it running again, which more or less consisted of replacing the radiator and a headlight (the body work would not be done, however, and will still look like shit when I get it back). According to them, it should actually be ready today.
Then, of course, I started checking out mental health facilities so that I could try and cope with my suicidal thoughts. Not that they ever went away, but I simply did not have the coping skills to deal with both them and the new reality that was outdoor homelessness. My previous blog will give you an idea of how that went. Spoiler alert: it sucked.
So now I bide my time, hoping that maybe my cousin isn’t having some sort of spaz attack long enough for me to get a change of clothes to take a shower, since she has most of my belongings at the present time. But assuming that my car does get fixed, I should be leaving for Berkeley within the next few days, where homeless services actually exist and minimum wage is $12.53 per hour even for waiters. However, I know no one there and have never actually visited the place or anywhere near it.
That’s what’s up with me. Now what’s the story with the blog?
As you can imagine, blogging is not a priority for me presently. If I’m able, I will blog. But do not expect too much out of me until I’m back on my feet. I am not shutting down the blog, but it will have far less activity than what you’re used to from me. But, if enough people ask nicely, I may be active more often. But you need to like, comment, subscribe for me to do that. Capisce?