The great thing about being homeless is that you get clothes, you know, to help you out. The problem is that when you’re bigger, it’s always sweats. Which I understand completely. Bigger clothes are expensive. I hate shopping for me, why wouldn’t others. But sweats blow in everyway shape and form. I had a nice wallet with a chain on it. In the past 2 weeks I’ve had it fall out it get pulled out of my pocket, 4 times. (my daughter is 18mo. It’s understandable.) But that’s 4 times. People keep asking me why I don’t use the chain. Well, they’re sweats. How am I supposed to use the chain?
I love the fact that if it wasn’t for sweats, I wouldn’t have clothes right now. But God damn I HATE sweats.
I post irregularly. I try to keep going with this blog as well as my own, but my computer is busted, again, so I’m not gonna be posting like I should/want to. But I will when depression and the brain gremlins let me.
I got a really nice question from a new follower, but I tried to post it and I think it just did a reply. Ah well, thank you for what you sent. I’m sorry that I didn’t get to be shared with everyone, but it’s probably for the best. Bonne chance out there.
There was a time in Creative Writing when I’d written a short story involving a teenage girl. Her parents had thrown her out of the house after months of constant arguing and she’d been living on the streets, away from everyone and everything, feeling sorry for herself instead of trying to fix anything. I stated really clearly in the story that this was what was going on and I remember being shocked when in my reviews everyone consistently said the same thing. “Why is she homeless? She has friends, she should be staying with them. This is really an unrealistic situation.”
(Putting this as a read more since it got longer than I thought it would. Don’t want to clog up the dashboards.)