Escaping the Weekend

 I cannot remember where I left off. There was no report yesterday as I spent the day turning my pretrial detention journal into blog posts, doing the laundry, and working. I got home about 12:40 AM. The walk home was a bit miserable. Somehow I forgot to pack the dry shoes. Dry socks, yes, Shoes, no. I swear my brain has turned to mush.

Off to a bad start today, I work in the wee wee hours with my lower back spasming, I applied a hot compress, Still, I did not want to get up. But I did. It is cold and spitting snow. I have the counselor at noon, and I am dropping in on a job interview after. I will not be spiffed up. It is a possible server job. I have an hour until the bus arrives.

Saturday, I found out I am getting $36 for food stamps this month. No explanation. I spent most of that when I went to the grocery after working Saturday. I had dry shoes on Saturday but forgot the dry socks. See what I mean?

I cashed my check at Payless. That cost me $5. Yesterday, I put it on rent. Surprised the manager. What else was there to do? I got $10 back. If I spent any more, I would not have rent this coming Friday. I do not remember anything on TV.

Oh, I called K about food banks. I need to do this today. IT2 offered to help, but that was Friday night. When I came back from McClure's on Saturday morning, which is how I found out the month's allotment for food stamps, I emailed her letting her know I needed help. No response to that email.

I think I talked to CC on Saturday night. She is not well; her lungs. Pretty sure I talked to KH, too. What else did I do? I may have finished off my email. I may have written a few posts. 

The sun is coming out. 

Whoever read my posts yesterday, I thank you. Typing up the pretrial detention journal has been a strange affair. Quite often, I roll my eyes at how I was writing. Too often, I can see the desperation in getting ideas down on paper. That I had some ideas that I carried onto prison and now surprises me rather frequently. What I would have done without pen and paper, I do not want to think about.

There are now 188 posts under pretrial detention.

I have the bike to sell and some china. All I have to do is get to the last Wednesday when the Social Security check comes in. It would be nice if someone picked up one of my stories and paid for it. I need to work on that this week.

I was asked about getting my license reinstated. No, I do not think so, for reason practical and not so practical. The person asking, I respect, so I did think about it. Here are some of my comments to her:

I need some money. I like where I am, but it does have a weekly tab.

I would prefer doing the work in the background than having my own shingle.

Like you, I do not want the life I had. It is either pure luck or fate that I am still alive, I really did mean to kill myself. I did accomplish in driving everyone away from me. Well, almost everyone. And I have a probation officer who cannot understand I am quite happy in this motel room doing my writing. 

You have the right idea about simplicity. When I finally had the time and opportunity to stop and think, I saw I immensely overcomplicated my life. And I was unhealthy. I may be the first person to have come out of prison healthier than I went in. Always doing things assbackwards.

All I can figure out is there is a purpose for me still being alive. Even if God is not behind it, I need to have a purpose to do something useful with the time left me.

I need to shave before the bus arrives.

And to show I still have a sense of humor:

 

sch 10:59