Life At The Transitional Home On The Peninsula.

It’s completely boring out here in this Peninsula town.   I kind of feel like I’m in jail.  There are rules.  Residents of the veterans transitional housing cannot stay out overnight, there’s a 11PM curfew, and the buses don’t run on Sunday.   The nearest movie theater is kind of hard to get to as well, but I can use my paratransit van because the Regal cinemas isn’t on the bus line you have to walk who knows how many miles to get to it once you get off the bus.   And the movie theater which is a multi plex has all the movies except the one I want to see.  A movie which came out last month.

Of course that movie isn’t playing instead that movie theater is playing a movie(s) which should now be moving along to the cheap 2nd run theaters that cost a few dollars.  Movies that have been out for over 6 months or more.  Hey if I’m going to pay the expensive movie theater ticket then it better be for a movie that I WANT TO SEE!  I took a proactive approach & emailed the corporate office.  I mean it’s my dollars that keep those morons rich.    It’s not like I can call them on the phone when all you get is an inane voice message & no live voice!     There is nothing to do here!  I’m already working to see about getting into another transitional house

I really wished that I had a good friend, just someone to call up to say “hey” and someone to hang out with.   I don’t do any of that romance shit.   No relationships those are man made prisons!   Another thing about staying here is that there is a cafeteria but the food is awful.   It’s free, but not that great.    As far as the other people honey I stay to myself.   I don’t mix with anyone here.   Here is why.

There are about 5 of us women we have our own dorm or wing the rest are men.  One woman I’ll call her Rhonda has a problem with boundaries & it seems she tries to treat me like a baby.  Eeew.   One evening she knocks at my door & she is giving me a flannel night gown + two pair of flannel underpants.  Now the problem is I never ever asked for pj’s.   When I ASK that is different.  I didn’t want the night gown & underpants.   I tried to be nice saying “I really don’t wear night gowns”  it didn’t seem to sink in for her.  Rhonda replies “That’s okay you can wear it around your room”.   Now I just told her that I don’t wear night gowns, what this told me was that she didn’t care if I didn’t wear night gowns she was being narcisstic.  She also says the following “I’ve lost weight so I can’t wear these anymore”  This woman has made reference to my weight.   Instead of getting mad I thanked her for the hideous pj’s then I just talked to the man in charge who runs the men & women’s floors.    I also gave him the pj’s .    Funny thing is here on the womens wing there is a charity closet that is filled with various clothes, pajamas, robes, for women who come to this place with not much.  This woman has lived in this place for over a year now, I’ve lived here only a few weeks.    Why not put those hideous pj’s in the women’s charity closet?   Because somehow I sense deep in my gut this woman was trying to insult me i.e   passive aggressive way.    I now steer clear of her.   I keep to my room leaving only to go to meals, the town’s library, or the store.

This woman is weird!  Don’t know what’s up with her but she does have a problem.

The pro’s of living here the property gets four legged deer that come looking to be fed.  That’s right.   I feed them apples only.   I don’t feed them out of my hand I just simply bite off a chunk of apple then toss it to them.   Sometimes it’s a family of them.   The momma, two teens, and a small runt of a deer we all call Bambi.   They are just as skittish of humans too.    But check it out when I saw my first deer earlier this month I freaked out because I’ve never, ever seen a deer in my life except on a nature show.   Don’t know what was behind my fear, except that well deer are wild animals aren’t they?   But these are gentle & all they do is simply stare at you with those big doe eyes.    I guess I am afraid that they would run into me or something.    I like deer.   I hate anyone that hunts deer.  Living here on the peninsula it’s boring, very cold, but mostly boring I have to watch out for that one because it affects people differently at this veterans place.

I was told a scary story which I will relate to you all.   I was riding the bus home coming from the local Albertsons.   An elderly Vietnam vet told me a story of a man who once lived in the exact same transitional housing as I am.   The man was on drugs and he got so out of control he ripped two automatic sliding doors off their track.   It was right were we women are living right now.   Since then that particular sliding door which leads directly onto a sky bridge is off limits to everyone.   And you know what?  I wouldn’t want to go out there.   Know why?

That deck is filled with bird poop! No one cleans it.   Total decay.   The place I stay in is a converted hospital.   I’m not doing all that great.   But at least I don’t hear screaming, I don’t have an angry Latina screaming racial slurs & threatening to harm me, kicking , screaming through my door.  I know that she isn’t representative  of all but she traumatized me.   At least there is no drunk & disorderly estranged husband showing up screaming for his wife to take him back, kicking in his wife’s door, then falling down completely DRUNK .   Have you ever heard a body hit the floor?   It’s very loud!  It’s literally like a dead weight.   At least I won’t have to walk in the hallways smelling pot, cigarettes ( I quit a couple of months or more ago)  That apartment!   And at least I won’t have to worry about any drug dealers coming in & out of the building & I know that they deal there.   They found a way to get around the security card entrance by applying tape over the doors little apparatus I don’t know what you call that thing on the door, but they’ve done it.     I’ve dubbed the former apartment “The crack house of Renton”.

White Men.

I don’t like the majority of them.  I’ll give you an example.  I was riding on the lousy light rail from sea tac airport system & I had the unfortunate experience of sitting next to about 4 white guys whose age ranged from maybe 20’s -30’s it was hard to tell because two of them were paunchy & PALLID WHITE(Get some tan will you) with shaved heads & made me cringe no particular reason I just didn’t like them.    

The one who was fat & had mutton chop side burns just wouldn’t shut up.  And men say women talk too much?   Him & his rag tag motley bunch were scum.  Reason I say this is there talk turned to their favorite opioids & how they preferred to ingest their drugs they made me SICK. The fat one with the mutton chops says that his preferred way to ingest opioids is to crush them up & snort them or rub it on his gums.  I swear I was afraid that he would pull out his stash & snort right then & there!  It has happened on a bus I rode once…EEEW!  They were 5 in all the one fat guy with some hair on his head & mutton chops, his other friend a lanky tall guy, then two other creep paunchy guys with shaved heads.    I now wished that I hadn’t of sat with ANY OF THEM I was so tired from moving out of my apartment so I just didn’t feel like getting up but I sure wished I had because I don’t like people who do drugs. I NOW understand why some people choose to stand at the doors.    The one ugly shaved, paunchy guy wouldn’t sit with me & I knew what that was all about too.  Don’t want to sit next to any black person.   Too bad I could’nt just say to the Motherfucker well take your ass somewhere else or get a car rental.   But you can’t really  say that.   They sure were gross!

In My Case It Didn’t Take A Village.

As a child I grew up around 2 types of adults:

1. Mean & selfish


2. Immature & somewhat emotionally stunted

I just wanted to lay the ground work for you on why it’s so hard to get established & I fall prey to the pitfall of everyday life.   It had all began when Mom left Dad when I was 2 only to take up with an abusive Monster.  She took me with her, my Dad then through the corrupt courts abducted me back which in of itself was so painful that I wanted to literally die.   At age 12 when Mom & I did get back together we had to flee once again two states away from her psycho husband to the Pacific Northwest.   Although Mom & I did receive SOME help we really didn’t get all that we should have being that we were 2 traumatized human beings.  One a young single adult Mother in her 30’s & me a 12 year old little girl.    I will say it we were ignored & neglected by other family members.   

Also and this is very important to realize people, I was 12 years old!  I was entering ADOLESCENCE!   No one really did prepare me for that.  Do you understand what I’m saying?  My Mother didn’t talk to me, the Aunt who was pretty cold didn’t bother to talk to me in fact she was mean to me at times, she had very little tolerance for me I was a CHILD & she could be so CATTY she would insult me like she would be talking to a grown up that’s how much (or how little compassion she had).   At times I didn’t like her.   Then there was nothing but petty jealousy against Mom & I when WE were the one’s that fled a DANGEROUS MAN  back in California no one seemed concerned with that.   I really don’t want to make this about race so I won’t.  Instead let me just say that CERTAIN families just aren’t filled with any damn love nor do they care I wasn’t feeling the love!  Those people sure were selfish towards how they treated Mom & I.   That’s all I ever wanted.   See I was thoughtful, intelligent I didn’t care about material things like the other idiots around me.   I just wanted love & some much needed guidance & ATTENTION!  which I never received from anyone.   

I talked with my Mother just last night about some of this because this has been bothering me for sometime now.  And she agreed with me on ALL of what I said.

I did ask her about this however.   I asked her what would have happened if instead of coming to the Pacific Northwest that instead we would have went down south to New Orleans were my Mother is originally from.   Mom put into perspective the reality if we had went to New Orleans.

When we arrived to Seattle in the 70’s we had nothing.  The Sister-In-Law provided Mom with a car which Mom had to take over the payments.

The Sister-In-Law gave Mom a job immediately upon arrival to Seattle.

Mom pointed out that had we went to New Orleans none of the above would have happened since her relative were living in poverty the chances of getting a car provided then a job were about slim to none.   

Still I think I would have took the poverty over the abuse we took coming to Seattle.  Because remember being ignored, neglected along with the occassional verbal abuse that I took which was unnecessary is just as bad as being physically hit on a consistent basis.

I’m still resentful .  I need mental health services to address these issues real bad because except for the fact I write all these blogs & I write a lot of them NO?   I have no other person to talk to about how horribly I’ve been treated.     I would like to share something else with you.

One year before my Aunt died March 20th 2015  I called to wish her Happy Birthday.  She was extremely how should I say this a bit standoffish / aloof in her manner.   The next day the step cousins tweedle dee / dumb throw her a HUGE-we know your dying type of send off birthday party & of course I wasn’t invited.  Want to know when I heard about the party?   Month later on my own birthday my Mother told me.   Bastards to the highest degree.   Their Father  would be so disappointed in them.  Don’t care how much education they have they are some low class cretins.     Only way for me to deal with it is counseling.  Problem is I don’t know where to find good counseling.   Been calling the V.A.  for forever it seems.

AAh  to be continued  I need lunch.   Life does SUCK!  Disrespect, racial slurs & NO LOVE ANYWHERE!

Remember Streetwise The Doc. ? Well I Was Running Away Long Before these kids. My True Story.

One woman on a solo journey through this crazy ass life.

I know I’m dating myself.  I don’t care.   But I’ve been watching the documentary Streetwise which if your not familiar with it I would recommend you watch it if your not squeamish at heart.   It’s about runaways.   I first ran away at age 9 I was troubled, I missed my Mother Dad was keeping me from seeing my Mom, I think it’s called parental alienation.   He was a bastard.   Anyway I was getting into all sorts of trouble over it.   I was fighting ( and losing)  I was stealing, breaking into other people’s homes, and running away.

In all I ran away like 7 or 8 times.    I would get overwhelmed.   No one would talk to me about what I was feeling, no one seemed to care about what I was feeling but there sure was a whole lot of LECTURING &…

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The Runaway Chronicles.

I know I’m dating myself.  I don’t care.   But I’ve been watching the documentary Streetwise which if your not familiar with it I would recommend you watch it if your not squeamish at heart.   It’s about runaways.   I first ran away at age 9. I was troubled, I missed my Mother Dad was keeping me from seeing my Mom, I think it’s called parental alienation.   He was a bastard.   Anyway I was getting into all sorts of trouble over it.   I was fighting ( and losing)  I was stealing, breaking into other people’s homes, and running away.

In all I ran away like 7 or 8 times.    I would get overwhelmed.   No one would talk to me about what I was feeling, no one seemed to care about what I was feeling but there sure was a whole lot of LECTURING  going on in the home I grew up in.   My story would have really made a great documentary better than Streetwise.   No such opportunity, it’s the story of my life.   However the last & final time I ran away would be when I was finally reunited with my Mother for the first time in 4 long years.   That is four years from age 8-12 years of age everyone.

The day of my running away I was beaten pretty bad.  Whipped like a slave.  After getting my punishment the bitch had me go outside to sweep the front porch.   I did.   And it was all over sneaking a piece of chocolate cake because I was hungry!   A damn piece of chocolate cake.

After I did sweep the porch I went around to the back yard, hopped a fence, then ran like hell.   I didn’t even know where I was going.   It was spur of the moment I didn’t even think it through.    I wandered around a section of Los Angeles in the middle of the day for hours by myself.   I had no money, so I couldn’t call anyone, I couldn’t even ride a bus.   I didn’t know my biological Mom’s phone number either I was a wreck of panic, anxiety I hadn’t eaten anything & I was sweating it was  Los Angeles California in February & it was 70 degrees.    

While wandering around I ran into what I think was a gang of girls.  There were about 5 or 6 and all were much bigger than I was.    I was small & frail for my age so when I took a look at these same girls I grew very frightened.   In all of my exhaustion, panic, and whatever else I began to sob uncontrollably.   The leader  or the main girl of the group stopped dead in her tracks along with the rest in her group, like I was a bad plague afraid to come any closer.  Then without warning the leader signaled to her gang  to follow  her, making a very wide berth around me.   It was almost as though they were afraid of catching something from me…..I was sobbing pretty badly and that seemed to really freak the tough girls out.   I’m walking some more until finally I spot at a busy intersection which I think was Adams blvd  The Children’s Home Society the house which I think is still there to this day resembled something out of Gone With The Wind with it’s massive columns.    But it was the CHS billboard  facing the busy intersection that caught my attention.   I walked right towards it, that was my beacon of hope.   I wasn’t sure if this place could help I figured since the sign had the word “children & home” I felt that I could get to live safe from the very same  people  that were hurting me.

Once I walked across the massive lawn I rang the bell to the CHS & an elderly woman answered.   She brought me inside I seem to remember that she gave me some milk & cookies to eat then she disappeared.   I’m not exactly sure just how much time had elapsed but I do know that two LAPD officers arrived.   Anxiety level heightened code red!   At first they seem real stern, and I have to admit those black uniforms they wear don’t do a great job to help one to relax.   But after the initial back & forth of questioning the two officers who were Black & Latino warmed up to me & treated me more like a Daughter than anything else.    So I went with them.   I must have been the only juvenile in the history of L.A. to ever sit in the back of a squad car & NOT BE taken into custody.  So began a day long ride that lasted into the evening in the back seat of an LAPD squad car an investigation to figure out what to do with me.  It made for one heck of an exciting day everyone!

When all of this flurry of activity happened it was daylight I think it was early afternoon.   I’m fuzzy about the events after the two officers picked me up but I remember that when it got dark my memory picks up.    Once it got dark the officers did ask me where my Mother lived I was 12 and I really didn’t remember the address but I remembered the street she lived on.   I told the officer the one who was driving ( he was the senior field officer)  who then would turn to his partner and say: “I know the area”  like magic the officer glided the car around smoothly & away we went he drove very fast it felt like the squad car wasn’t even touching the ground.   I had to guide the police officer on where to turn I did know my landmarks & a lot of things looked familiar & were pretty much the same as four years ago when I last seen Mom.   A swift turn here, another one there and BOOM!  We were on the street were Mom & her then 2nd Husband stayed.

When the 3 of us arrived at the address were Mom stayed inside the house was completely dark.      Hell I don’t remember what I was feeling.  I mean I had felt like I was held in captivity for 4 long years with my Father & stepmother so I think I may have been numb & just going through the motions I just don’t know.  At any rate I sure was grateful to those two officers that day they saved my life.   

So we get to the house one of the officers rings the doorbell then…..nothing no one was  home.   One of the officers I think that it was the junior officer who suggested that they try to knock on the next door neighbors door.  So the three of us the two officers & I walked over to the next door neighbors house.   The officer rang the doorbell.   The door opens and the same neighbor is still residing at the house, a Doctor that Mom & her Husband knew.    What seemed kind of odd to me at the time was that the Doctor seemed to show little emotion.   He didn’t seem surprised to see 2 police officers + a 12 year old little girl standing on his front porch.   To this day I don’t know what to make of that, but the good Doctor provided some valuable information.

The Doctor told us that Mom & her Husband ran a gas station on such & such street in Los Angeles I don’t remember the cross street.   And that they often worked real late, and that there was a good chance that they would be there right now.

All 3 of us got back into the squad car to race down to the Shell gas station.  Here is what the officers chose to do.   Now the Shell station in Los Angeles sat on a huge lot.   What they chose to do was park at the far end nearest the rotating Shell sign.  Back then the signs turned.   I was told to remain in the squad car.  I turned around in the seat to see my Mother taking meter readings off the gas tanks & oh boy was it both weird & a shock to see my Mother for the first time ever in FOUR YEARS!   I had felt like I was intruding on something,  I don’t know I’m just telling you how it felt I was 12 & traumatized.    About maybe 10-15 minutes later the Officers appear with both Mom than her Husband.   Mom is sobbing!

After that brief reunion the 3 of us the two police officers & I had to pay a visit to my Father & his odious wife at their place of residence while I sat in the back seat of the squad car.   When the officers returned from the 45min-1hr meeting one of the officers was extremely livid over what I’m not really sure because he mostly addressed his partner in the front seat ignoring me.  Now looking back on that night in front of  the residence of my biological Father & his 2nd Wife they probably TRASHED me to the police officers, I know it.  Especially my Step Mother she probably said some real nasty stuff & THAT was why one of the Officers was mad after the meeting.  The senior field officer was so mad he couldn’t drive, an important note?  Neither my Father nor my Step Mother reported me missing , I had been gone over 8 hours!  And once the LAPD showed up at the residence of my Father & his Wife THEY STILL HADN’T CALLED ME IN MISSING!.   The junior officer had to calm him down before we could pull away from the curb.   After that I was taken to Mc Claren Hall.    McClaren Hall was for me extremely TRAUMATIC with a capital T.  To a 12 year old little girl whose first time it was in an institution McClaren Hall was a major scary experience!  Because it was sort of run like a jail.  The Doctors were creepy one sort of molested me on the intake & when I was escorted down into the girls dorm both myself & the adult who escorted me had to walk this gauntlet of beds which was the boys dorm. As if on cue all the boys jumped from the head of their beds towards the foot of their beds catcalling & whistling! I felt very frightened + traumatized  (McClaren closed in 2003) My stay at McClaren which was basically a human warehouse for abused kids that the city had no idea what to do with was at that for me the first time it was stable environment were I got fed 3 times a day!  I was being systematically starved by my Stepmother for 4 years I was practically anorexic by the time I got to my Mom. However it was mandatory that my stay would end & of all people my Father was to pick me up to take me back at least until my Mother’s lawyers were finished. All the way back Dad was cruel.  He kept saying that I was one disturbed child, which infuriated me. My Mother did end up getting me from school.  So here is what happened during physical education class one day I was sitting in a row while the teacher was explaining something to us students I don’t remember what it was.  A student office worker (remember you got credit for working  as an OFFICE AIDE in the main office?) approached me and instructed me to go to the locker room & get dressed.  I was to meet the student office assistant outside of the girls locker room were we were to go to the main office.    Once at the schools main office I was instructed to go sit inside the Principals office.   Now, at this point I was told nothing.  I had no idea what was going on.   I thought I was in trouble, because the only time any student went to the Principals office was if you did something wrong.   I was scared.   I waited maybe 10-15 minutes.   The door opened, and in came my Mother dressed in her gas station work uniform with a big warm smile!  Best day of my life.

It’s my goal to obtain my sealed juvenile records.  I just want them.   Sadly my life only got worse & not better after I got back with Mom.   Now put that in a movie!

I want to add some more to this post.  My Mother did pick me up FOR GOOD from school one day.  However in the meantime while I was waiting my Father & his Wife got their abusive licks in anyway they could.  Here is what they did.    In the wee hours of the night the two of them would deliberately wake me up from a very sound sleep the  lights would go  on in the bedroom sometime in the middle of the night .    At the door’s threshold was my Father & his wife yelling & screaming  confusing the shit out of me.   I’m pretty sure the wife was behind this.   They kept it up for awhile too.

In this way they could do their abuse without touching me.   Way to go creeps.

A Safe Place FOR ALL & Not Just For Some.


Today as I went out to a local thrift shop here in my new home, I was waiting for the bus to take me back.   I noticed a sticker which read “A Safe Place”  Upon closer inspection the sticker posted on the window of the establishment read that it was for the LGBT community.   I say great.   But I have a question.   What about people of color?

Black, brown, Native, Indian cultures etc don’t we warrant any such stickers?   Because let me say I have been a target of HATE!  Just by how I look alone.   2010, 2017  I heard the word Nigger several times like it was nothing.   Often it is used to really degrade me.  I don’t care how tough a person you are if your black person this word cuts to the core.   Of course I have no choice but to take it on the chin because NO ONE will stand up for me.  No one cares.   I sure would like to see someone get what they deserved over calling a black person out like that.   You out there that like to throw that word around like it’s nothing you better be careful WHO you talk to like that.

Offend the wrong person & what you say may be your last words on Earth.   I’m sick & tired of being called that vile word.

Get Out!

No, I’m not talking about the movie.   I’m talking about I had to get out of my former apartment complex.   Some years ago I ran into a former friend on Facebook, and she explained to me how she had to move out of her HUD subsidized apartment which was in Lake City because of all the drug dealing.   I really see parallels now to how I had to really haul ass & move out of where I was to get away from the crime.    She was fortunate in that she had relatives back East to stay with after she left Seattle.

All the elements of crime were rife in the last apartment building I lived in ladies & gentlemen.    There is a Gang that has claimed the back lot of the building as their own, why?   I have no idea they like it & have laid claim to it.   I would come home from grocery shopping to find these low life’s out on a public sidewalk 4:30PM drinking  beer straight out of the carton or case like they were at a back yard barbeque.   One of the cretins even had nerve enough to TURN AROUND to give me some sort of mean mug as if to challenge me or something.    Try to be courteous to these people & cross the street several feet away & this is what you get.   A low life criminal who doesn’t appreciate that your trying not to make WAVES!.    I think they like to create drama , is what I think.   I’ve seen one close up.  There is absolutely ZERO warmth in their eyes.   Dead eyes.   Like the kind that makes your blood turn cold.   Gangs in your area are no joke people.   I don’t like them because they interfere with your everyday life.   

  1. They take over a city block that you may like to walk down on.
  2. All of a sudden one day a memorial vigil goes up out in the open where everyone can see on a section of the apartment property honoring their dead homey.   May they rest in peace but why do the rest of us non gang members need to see the memorial?  That’s why there’s funeral homes that take care of those kind of sad experiances.   I mean lit votive candles, red roses, a cross, bandanas (which usually indicate a gang color known as a flag) no one needs to see that.
  3. Gang graffiti no one needs to know who you are.   I thought that these groups run in the shadows.  So why am I seeing their graffiti?

Oh, and my favorite one was one day I’m coming home from the store & some punk or punkette is driving a car real fast down the cul de sac road.   He/she right at the very end at the last minute hits the brakes were the rear end of the car does this 360 degree turn, like the one Paul Walker did in the Fast & Furious.   Really childish & stupid.   But then again these people aren’t really known for their good sense.   It was this experience & the loco woman who came to my door that led me to make a decision to just get the hell out!  I really HATE the criminal element.   Contrary to what lies they like to espouse they don’t belong anywhere in our society.  They’re pariahs.


Can’t We All Just Get Along??

Stop hating on me please!

One woman on a solo journey through this crazy ass life.

In light of what happened to me last month & in case some of my readers don’t know what happened to me I will briefly refresh your memory.   Last month I had a latino woman come to my door in all of her rage & aggressiveness call me of all things a Nigger.   Yes , I couldn’t believe it either now I truly know where I stand.  When her & the odious neighbor where partying it up next door screaming, banging things around I banged on the wall with my open palm for them to calm down. 

Oh my God, that chick came running out of my next door neighbors apartment & immediately came :

  1. Screaming at the top of her lungs, she sure could scream I guess drugs & alcohol help in that area.
  2. Kicking my door, punching my door putting her ugly mug up in my…

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