A Series of Unfortunate Events

18 Aug

Well, the past 48 hours have been less than plesant. Usually I’m not one for complaining, but this is a special occasion. I didn’t get a hangnail; i got robbed.

So I’ve been workingas a case management assistant at a Domestic Violence shelter and a Homeless Women’s 24 hr Wet Shelter. A Wet shelter means women don’t have to be sober, sane, or off drugs. However, I’m learning that dry shelters, like the domestic violence shelter where people are expeted and tested to be clean via UA’s and Breathilizers, are actually more like…mosit shelters. If an addict is presented with the choice of a roof or their fix, it’s actually pretty competitive fight. At least it makes my job more entertaining. Yesterday I woke at 6:30 am to get to work at the homeless shelter on time. Anyone who knows me would assume that I went in my usual state, especially given the time: huge sweatshirt, jeans, ratty fake uggs, and my hair in a curly samuri bun on top of my head. So what. I was chatting with one of the women in the shelter I hadn’t met before, and she told me she liked my earings.I thanked her, and added my mom had gotten them for me. She surveys the room with her eyes, and asks me which one is my mom. I told her I worked there. Really? Yes, really. But you look so young and blend in with us. Oh….thanks. Don’t get me wrong, there is no shame in blending in with the homeless community–they are some of the strongest, wisest women I’ve ever met. They are survivors, they are hillarious, they are mostly borderline crazy. But when a homeless lady mistakes you for a fellow street-girl, it strikes a chord with ones appreance based ego. Ouch.

Later that day I was speaking with another lady at the shelter. If anyone out there reads the Oregonian, she is known by her street alias as ‘Mom’, and hangs out with the infamous Portland StreetKids being a motherly figure and influence. She is a street-celeb. When I asked for her autograph for my mom, who a few days ago told me about the article she read in the oregonian about this streetkid mom, she asked which part of the streets my mom and i lived on. At that point, i just took it as a compliment that i get along with the ladies to a point where they too consider us equals. which we are, but being mistaken for homeless 2 times in one day was overwhelming. So when time 3 happened and my co-worker made fun of me in my hugeass sweatshirt, I vowed never to go to work again without showering. Fuck. What a day. I also sat on a couch reading for a few minutes until my boss yanked me off and seemed genuinly concered that I may have sat there long enough to attract Scavies or lice. I sat on the scavies couch. Fuckin fantastic.

Today I was coaxed into getting a haircut. I hate haircuts.Then i was coaxed into going to the mall. Malls make haircuts seem like Christmas. And at this mall, my purse was stolen: wallet, credit cards,car keys, phone and all. All stolen. Right before I go back to school. Perrrfect-o.

But all in all, who am I really to complain? I have a home and i have stuff to get stolen. Perspective, perspective.

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