The Birds and the Bees

As I waited for the bus today, I noticed several bumblebees visiting flowers around the bus stop. I was pleased because they chose to do things the old-fashioned way instead of visiting the garbage cans at Moore Square like I've seen hundreds of bees do. I saw an article in The Independent Magazine about honey and how bees in different counties make different color honey depending on the local flora. I wondered what color trash-borne honey is.

As part of my ritual lately, I've been buying a morning sandwich from a local convenience store with my meager Food Stamp money ($200/month, which doesn't go far when you buy $3.00 sandwiches), which may be in danger of not being filled this month because of glitches in the Food Stamp software North Carolina uses.

Part of the ritual with the sandwiches is I share the crust with the birds that gather at Moore Square. I do this partly because I've had half my teeth removed and the other half will be removed shortly. Vocation Rehab came through on that necessity. Anyway, getting back to the birds: They know who I am, and they've been watching for me. Often one or several will see me and fly down in anticipation. This is fine when I have crust to share, but when they see me in the afternoon, I don't have such gifts. I feel so bad for them.

Yesterday, there was literally a whole flock of them waiting for me. It was a bright morning and their shadows against a wall made it seem like there were twice as many there. They had quite a battle for my crusts.

It occurred to me then, that the homeless men I see all the time aren't so different. They're waiting for a handout, and when they get it, they battle for position and possession. I've seen food brought out into the cafeteria, some extra food donated by one group or another, and a seemingly empty cafeteria will suddenly fill, and the food will be gone in seconds - literally.

Even for the regular scheduled meal times, people will jockey for position as they wait for the food to be served. The usual method of waiting is to sit on the bench leading to the door to the kitchen. People will not just sit on the bench, but around the bench too, rather than stand in line with the other, more patient people. I have to say, that irks me. In all the time I've been coming to SWSC, they've never run out of food during feeding time, even if the food sucks. What difference does it make if you get in the front or not? If they try to stand in front of me, they get an earful.

But in the end, we all get fed, and I do my share to feed the birds and bees too. But I have to say I'm really looking forward to leaving the shelter, hopefully for the last time.

An End To Homelessness For Me?

Yesterday I went to a meeting where I received my Section 8 Voucher for finding an apartment. I'll be working with the shelter to get help paying the application fee and security deposit for the shelter. But all in all, it looks like my 2 and a half year struggle with homelessness is about to come to an end. I am, needless to say, delighted, but I figure the shelter staff is probably happier. They were going to throw me out on August 31 anyway.

Update: Over the last couple of days I've perused various sites and booklets looking for an apartment that takes Section 8 but is within the $526/month limit I have to work with. Nothing so far, and that is somewhat frustrating, because many of the apartments on the list RHA gave me are for elderly (i.e. 62+) and I don't qualify for them. I know there are apartments that I can use, but I have to dig deeper than I'd hoped. I'll have to get recommendations from others.

Amazon Studios and my Project 'A Matter of Survival'

During the month of May. I started getting an idea for a screenplay. Now most of my writing has usually been in book form or done for my proposed TV series, 'The Timmons Chronicles.' But this idea gelled so fast in my head in May that I decided to turn it into a screenplay. I wrote the first draft over one weekend, hand-written, no less, because well, my computer was stolen, and over the next weekend I wrote a second draft. Then over the next two weeks I used the library computers at Wake Tech to enter my script using Scripped.com. (url: http://scripped.com/script/view/187217/mlgLRW7RC9ezjLQd7Vbkiz3yD15yYZpSTA2aOqZ15ljwjE7fgU)
Then I spent some proofing it.
Then a little more time.
Then I liked what I had written so far so much that I went to Amazon Studios and submitted it to see if they would option it.
Then I waited.
And Waited.
Then after two weeks, I checked the status of the script and found that they weren't even considering it. At first I wondered why, then I found that there was a screenplay with the same title in their listings. It was originally titled 'Soul Survivor.' So I changed the title and resubmitted it. This time I followed the status of the script a little closer. It went from 'received' to 'reading' and now it is in the 'Deciding' part of the process.
This is the hardest part for any writer: the waiting to see if someone in charge likes what you've written. Now, I haven't been idle all this time. I've been working on a new draft of the script. But every time I submitted a new draft, it would have given Amazon Studios another 45 days to look at the script to see if they wanted to option it. What I originally submitted has every important aspect of the script. If they like the concept enough to option it, I shouldn't have to submit changes to get their attention.

So now the waiting continues.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

'Free' By Michael Harrison Fox

Life Update: Writing, Teething, and Computering, Oh My!

It's been a while since I posted any kind of update on what's going on in my life, so here goes:

I recently finished the START Hospitality course at Wake Tech. That course included getting certificates in ServSafe (passed), National Career Readiness Certificate (NCRC) Gold in all three specialties. (Still trying to determine who actually pays attention to that), TIPS Certification (Training for Intervention Something something... to help someone in the Food and Beverage industry determine when someone has had enough to drink), certification in the OPERA Property Management System used by Holiday Inn and other facilities. Used at the Front Desk. And finally the actual certificate for completing the program. I'm ideally looking for Front Desk or Night Auditor. I have had no luck so far. They claim 70% of the graduates get jobs, but I think most of those start out in the banquet or Food Service part and work their way up. However with my injuries, I can't handle banquets and other Food Service jobs, so I'll stick with what I can do.

And speaking of injuries, no real change in my shoulder or knee has occurred in months. They are both mildly disabling. I can't life things reliably. I can't run, therefore I can't move quickly enough for Food Service. I can walk easily enough most of the time, but every now and then my knee let's me know something is wrong, and I limp.

I have been in touch with Vocational Rehab and they have moved at a snail's pace, claiming they didn't get the information they needed. They have agreed to do two things: Get my teeth yanked (though I don't know when) and to pay for certification courses that will mean I'm qualified for a Network Administrator position. Entry level, if such a thing exists. But I will get A+ certified, Network+ and hopefully Security+ and Cisco certified. We'll see how well that goes.

I started writing a screenplay based on idea that's been prowling through my head for the last few weeks. The first draft took me 3 days. It's hand-written, and certainly needs work, but it was nice to finish something for a change. I also started on a novel form of the story. It's a techno/sci fi/thriller. It creeps me out and I'm the one who wrote it. It's called 'Soul Survivor.' I'll post more on that as I get it put into a computer. I'm quite happy with the plot, it just needs to be fleshed out a little.

The last bit of news has to do with the computer that was stolen from me in January. I heard rumors that a certain person might have it back in February, but it wasn't enough to take to the police. In March, a friend came to me and told me he knew who had it, and the guy was willing to sell it back to me for $80. It took me a while to raise $80, but when I did, the guy then said he left it at his girlfriend's place and they're not talking any more. I gave him a week to get his stuff together, and haven't heard back from him. So yesterday I filed a new report with the Raleigh PD, telling them what I know and suspect, including the guy's phone number. I'm keeping my $80. If the guy gets arrested for it, and his girl too, well, he brought it on himself. He had ample opportunity to return it to me.

Shelter Life: The Walking Wounded

It seems like every time I walk around the shelter these days I see people who are walking with the aid of walkers, or crutches, or not walking at all because they are in wheelchairs. I see arms in slings and legs in casts. The numbers are increasing, not decreasing.

I hear coughing all the time, and not just from me. The guy who just moved into the bed next to me coughed so hard that he passed out, and he says it's happened before. He refused to be taken to the hospital for whatever the reason.

People think of homeless as bums who just want a hand out. As one who is one of those walking wounded, I object to the stereotype. But my wounds are not obvious. I can walk, though with a limp. I walk in pain, though not a great deal of it, but if I go downstairs or upstairs, you may notice me taking them one at a time. I walk up a step with my left leg then bring my right leg with me. Repeat as necessary. The opposite is true, even more so, because stepping down on my right leg causes more pain and I'm afraid that the leg will give in.

My shoulder is even less obvious, unless I am requested to lift something. I got chewed out by another homeless guy because he didn't see anything wrong with me. Use your eyes, please.

The point is, though, that everyone's perception is different and you can't tell a book from its cover. Even though my body is not at 100%, my mind is. Give me something to do with my mind. I'll prove it.

In other news, I am taking the START Hospitality course at Wake Tech, and as the course draws to a close, the opportunities are starting to open up. For instance i had an interview yesterday at a Hilton Garden Inn in Raleigh, and the manager there apparently knew the guy who runs the Hospitality course. With my teeth the way they are (come on, Voc Rehab, get your a$$ in gear) I don't think I made a very good impression, but at least I am making the effort, and just getting the interview is an experience that will help with other interviews.

Hope is all I have left at this point.

Personal Space

While riding the bus today, I had a guy sit next to me, and he sat very close. I mean very close. I usually just shift my position to allow for a little personal space but then a turn came and the man leaned into me. I asked him politely not to do that, but the man didn't seem to hear me. I forced my arm in between us and he seemed to get the idea, but never said a word for the entire trip, and never moved further away.

I bring this up because in the shelter space is extremely limited. First, you sleep in a bunk bed, with maybe 4 feet between you and the bunk above. The guy in that bunk moves, the whole bunk moves. You feel it, upper or lower. Second, the space between bunks is about 3-4 feet. The guy next to you sneezes or coughs, you get splattered. I've splattered a few myself lately. It's not intentional. I've seen the guy in the next bunk sitting on his bunk, his knees a few inches from my bunk and that makes me nervous, for some reason. The person in the bunk above me, for whatever the reason, likes to stand up and putter around his bunk. Which means his body is too close to mine. It makes me feel uncomfortable.

In the dining hall, when we line up for breakfast or dinner, some people simply get too close. When we sit at the tables, there are not individual chairs, it's a bench, and some people like to get close then too. I had one of my friends tell me that one time the guy behind me was trying to touch my back in a less than friendly manner, or perhaps too friendly is the right phrase.

I'm not homophobic, I have a few gay friends. I am not gay. I don't like being touched by any man, that's just the way I am. Even a pat on the back can seem like an invasion of my space.

There are a number of guys in the shelter that have problems sharing a shower. I'm not one of them. Earlier today there was almost a fight because someone was insisting on taking a shower alone. In my dorm there are 40 guys, and 7 shower heads. There aren't enough hours in the day for everyone to take a private shower. So you can see the problem.

In the shelter personal space is at a premium. As the center manager, Frank Lawrence has said, 'for you to survive the shelter, you have to adapt.' It's not an easy task.