Saturday

Today was a day. 

I woke early to take the placement exam at the local community college  to see what general education  level I am realistically at academically after having graduated high school nearly 20 years ago now. 

People have been watching me since I got back in the valley.  Not sure the who's what's and why's of all of it.  But the result was me locking my bike, going into the main building to find out where I needed to go for the placement testing, and then walking out again less than five minutes later to see a guy riding off on my bike. 

I tried to track him, but the by the time my brain caught up to the fact that it was indeed my bike the dude was riding off on I'd already lost sight of him and missed the direction he took.  I tried tracking him, but at the end of it I couldn't run the blocks the way I needed to to follow because of this damned cracked rib. 

Yeah, it's cracked.

 I really don't fuggin know how it happened either.  And that's the part that bugs the shit out of me.  I don't remember getting hit or falling in a manner that would have caused it. 

Regardless, it's been a week now, and the damned thing still hurts when I breath.  Which has made my training go a lot slower, my mobility more trying, and my over all bullshit tolerance much less. 


That's why I bought the bike.  So that I would be able to get to and from work with little stress to the cracked rib and have energy enough to go between  work/school/and maybe other work if I can pull something together. 

And yes, I want to run out and replace the bike right now, but the budget is so tight it's getting to the point of being the difference between days instead of weeks, and though I did get the job I interviewed for it's still only offering minimum wage and just shy of full time hours which means the budget is going to stay on a razors edge until I can find something that pays a little better or I can get a grant to fund my work and research. 


I might look like I have money, but aside from two month old shoes that I've nearly chewed through during my training the clothes and things I wear are from the clearance rack, the thrift shop, or I've had almost as long as I've been out of high school. 

I take try to take care of myself and my belongings, make them last and survive.  I invest in the things that I purchase.  Trying to find the most cost efficient version of an item while taking into regards its sustainability.
It's part of my economics research.

Yes, I am hard on both because I work and play hard but at the end of it I'm still someone that shops cheap and only buys the expensive things when I think they'll legitimately survive the hardships that my body and belongings tend to go through between  work, training, and the very rare days I give myself to relax. 

Regardless, after the bike being stolen I was supposed to have an interview with a person about a more permanent place to stay later in the afternoon.  However, as I was on the bus heading that direction I got a call from the person that was looking into the missing bike and asking about paperwork on it.  I had, of course, taken the paperwork to the storage unit and filed it with the rest of the instruction manuals and documentation for my various tools and work equipment already.  So, hoping that some sort of justice might be served,  I got off at the next stop.  But, being Saturday and  buses running sparsely I quick walked as fast as my rib would allow me to the storage unit to check the paper work. 

Of course the information needed was supposed to have been filled out by hand rather than being in the manual already, so the trip wasted, I quick marched as fast as I could back to the bus station to try and catch the bus, again, to make it to the appointment on time. 

I met a man in his late 60's trying to get to the hospital for heart medication but in a similar living and mobility situation as my own.  I wanted to offer to get him a room for the night since the shelter wasn't taking in people for beds until Monday.  But, with the budget stretched as thin as it is and my trust issues being what they are, I listened politely and offered a few suggestions for making his mobility easier while racking my brain to remember if there were any other shelter options aside from the local mission. Partly for him, and partly because if I misstep on my budget again I'll be in the same situation very shortly.     


I stood at the entrance of the bus and watched one of the bus employees telling an upset woman that she couldn't bring her stroller and laundry onto the bus.

 Ribs hurting, anger boiling at the events of the morning, half asleep from my body being boomeranged between West Coast time and trying to prepare it for a newly acquired overnights position,  while the realization that  I was going to be late for the meeting hanging over me like a dark little rain cloud.  I threw up my hands and walked the half hour  back to the hotel to work on financial paperwork for school and try to get some semblance of forward momentum back into my day.

My inconsiderate ass, to tied up in my own bullshit to text the person I was supposed to be meeting with, received a message shortly after I got back to the room.  Luckily they were polite enough to reschedule for Monday but I still felt like an absolute ass hat.
I could have met with them Sunday before the bike was stolen.  Not to mention that the buses do not run on Sundays here.
For some reason the local powers that be think that people don't need to get to work and conduct business on Sundays.  That would equate a roughly four hour hard march each direction.
All in an effort to both interview and be interviewed by a potential roommate. Which if my rib were not busted, I would do just out of spite to the asshole that made the decision to prevent those without a car from being able to have the dignity of mobility one day of the week.  And if it weren't for an interview of sorts I would do it for the fun of it after assembling the proper gear and supplies. 


Then, as I was nearing the end of the paper work,  the FASFA started asking for tax return information.   Which, of course, I have filed neatly away but is either in the storage unit or with an ex-wife who isn't talking to me right now.  An hours hard walk away and to late in the day to make it back to the unit and have time to check before they closed the gates for the night I fell into an exhausted sleep while listening to the news.

And that's where I am now, woke by someone playing a harmonica and the overly loud conversations of people outside my hotel room. 
Which, yes, I want to complain, but there's something strangely comforting in hearing a practicing musician. 

But I'm awake now.

Between the pain in the rib preventing me from working  myself hard enough to fall into anything resembling a restful slumber and waking me periodically when I roll into the wrong position. And trying to readjust to this dry heat that steals my energy much faster than the more humid climates. I still feel exhausted and need to focus on re hydration if I'm going to work and go to school without a car.

This past week has reminded me however, why I ran so hard to get away from this area to begin with. Tried to relocate, unsuccessfully, in my own weird way.
But also why I came back.
 When I first visited this area something called to me.  When I had my quite little library job, biking to and fro, and writing/telling stories about fantastical realms I was at peace. 
I came back to see if I could find that peace again, try to reconnect with the people that I respect and hope to craft something of  a future for this valley that helped my mind heal and rediscover my purpose in life.
But the thing I'm slowly rediscovering about this place is that the peaceful places I remembered are haunted by memories or I don't feel like I belong any more.  Outside of being much more friendly to a person who prefers to travel by foot and rail, the reason I think the east coast made me feel so much more energetic was because of all of the different languages, races, and religions that I would observe in the matter of a few blocks.

That and the majority of the west coast and middle America, is a sprawling and unfriendly place to those without a motor vehicle. Not to mention being much more dangerous to the, the LGBTQ+, immigrant communities, public servants, and their allies.

But, honestly, that is much of why I came back here rather than taking my family up on their offer. Aside from the past traumas that often bubble to the surface when I see or visit them for too long. 
Why take the easy road when I could forge new paths and help heal a community that I've grown to love?

  Though my cover as a "sis white male" was blown a long time ago, my defiance in defense of those I feel are being unjustly treated out in the open, and the open fraternization with Law Enforcement in an effort to keep people safe never a secret I continue to try.  Continue to work towards something that could be better for everyone. 

 Just please remember:  Be you a gang member openly wearing your colors, someone with a badge on your chest, or just a hard working son of a bitch out to try to feed yourself.   I offer nothing but respect to the pride in you beliefs even if I may not agree with them.

Though I do give you these warnings, no matter who you are: 
Do not Endanger the Children and Keep your Poisons to Yourself.

I don't bark often, outside of trash on the ground and my own aches and pains, but those two things will get me calling for backup lickity fuckin' split.


And if I seem a little jumpy when I see your gun, blade, pup, or whatever choice of self protection you're carrying. 
Don't take offense. 
I've had people come at me from all sides and have failed to dodge those weapons on more than one occasion. 
But if it is an emergency. 
If there's a fire, flood, or some other disaster.
If you're hurt.
If you need help and I'm in earshot.
If I have the resources to help you.
I'll do my best.
And if can't or don't have the resources.
At the very least.
I'll point you in the right direction.
Or call someone that can help.

I will never stop being me.

 I will never stop working to create  peace between the communities no matter how impossible peace seems.   

Just don't mind my salt and I won't mind yours.

Stay safe out there.