With me being caught in the 80% of town receiving rain-fall, holed away within a wi-fi hot-spot, I've really got no reason to start this daily journal of homeless living: the anime I'm watching isn't something in which I want to indulge while my night-haunt is still notably occupied, so my alternatives are nonexistent. I'll start by explaining myself and my bizarre actions. The rain just got heavier; so expect a procrastinating pace, if "procrastinate" can be used as an adjective.
In a search for sustainable living; I have relocated to a wholly unfamiliar town, and began living as a hobo. For years, I observed my parents struggle against forces compelled to wrest from them their providence; and I soon—and repeatedly—lost that same struggle, when I began living as an adult. My… renewed presence within my father's house was doing nothing to aid in managing the burdens made heavier by our shared difficulty in procuring paid vocations, so I simply decided to leave: this was three nights ago.
I did not move with complete recklessness: my choice of town was influenced by the prodding of a friend of mine whom attends classes within the local university. Having someone as a guide and central storage-point has reduced the intensity of the challenges I've faced, and nullified some of my own foolishness: carrying everything I packed is too loathsome a notion to even bear within my imagination. I've quickly learned what I truly need; and the miscellanea rests peacefully, in the trunk of a hybrid car.
My lifestyle hasn't been too greatly affected by the "drastically" different circumstances under which I now operate. At home, I made a point of exclusively dining on whatever for which I bartered with local volunteer-organizations. Now, I merely subsist on charity: I don't much enjoy the one-sidedness of it, but I will not yet allow pride its whole way. I think about the effort I must invest into sleeping peacefully; but the stress under which I previously rested, the living-room becoming my private domain (despite my insistence that others feel free to use the faculties therein), is comparable in unpleasantness. My hobbies continue indulgence unabated.
I worried about how restricted I'd be, in regards to internet-access and comic-books. Fortunately, neither is enjoyed to any lesser a degree than any point in my life save for one golden period of which you'll later be informed. Luck is to be accredited more than any effort made by which ever author you'll find writing for this journal: that force has yet to fail me, and I'm making a pointed effort to remember the weight behind that.
With material concerns largely addressed, a piercing melancholy has become the hurdle of the day. From what I can figure, the feeling stems from the usual longing for a peaceful home and family. My time with an ascetic has been put to good use, and I've been able to keep my wits about me: this, I've come to assume, is one form of separating one's self from the barbs of worldly living; if not the whole of the concept. Instead of purging myself of the desires at the source of the stress, I've decided to abide by them. While consistent, now; the anxiety has become strangely pleasant, to the point that its presence brings me to lightheartedly humming shanties (a music-genre I've only discovered today).
***
Sunday was a simple one. I had focused my day upon enjoying all four hours of the library's operation, and accomplished that swimmingly. Lunches were being given out by a local band of altruists, and my sole meal for the day was thus secured… or so I had thought. I was reminded of a Sunday-only dinner being given out by a hispanic ministry, and was wonderfully fed. After giving a dollar and orange to a fellow vagrant, my food-stores were increased by a few peanut-butter crackers and a five-pack of cinnamon-raisin bagels.
Socially, I had quite the time! A local had lent me their newest sleeping-bag (gifted to them by a pair of vagabonds); after hearing that, o'er the previous night, I hadn't gotten any rest at all. I was hiding in a 24-hour business-establishment, ruing the bitterness of the night air. Thusly; I was able to peacefully rest within the town-square, mid-day, becoming fully rejuvenated: this would be the highest point of the day, in my interactions with others; the rest being poignant in its contrast. The amount of drama in which I see other homeless entrench themselves is well into the realm of humorous: fortunately, I'm not the only person of the ilk to think in such a way. I'll leave the details to be forgotten.
Actually, others proved themselves to be uplifting. A trio of peers was a refreshing site, among the "circuit," and my misreading of a young man's age by ten years too young (32 where I thought 22) is something upon which youth of today ought to base their standards. At my night-haunt; I concede the interior to the collegiate patrons, relaxing quietly upon the outdoor seating-arrangements. Conversation with others simply nearby yielded a blanket and some invaluable knowledge of the local resources. A very colorful young man had meandered through our dialog, and joined in: he and I are now connected, online, and I look forward to what that'll lead. During the conversation, I ended up aiding a young man with bus-fare.
I'm glad to see that I'm not regarded as threatening. I'm not being particularly avoided by anyone, and conversation is always cheerful. My efforts to remain inconspicuous are going well.
Changes of Inventory
- Money: $-1.50
- Food: +3 cracker-sandwich packs, +5 bagels
- Items: +1 blanket
Tomorrow, I'll be meeting my guide: my laundry (my guide offered to wash my clothes with their own) will be returned to me, and recreational pancakes will be made.
***
Wow, the rain still hasn't stopped….
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