Today is a landmark day for me. It marks the 2nd full year I have lived as the homeless in St. George, Utah. Today, 2 years ago at 8:00 AM I moved out to a tent in the desert.
Yesterday, when I told the people I work with at the food bank that today was my 2nd year anniversary of being homeless, they responded with skepticism as to whether that was something to be happy about. The answer is yes. I had never been homeless before, and was quite nervous about the prospect. Surviving for a month was quite an achievement, and I've done it for 2 whole years now. That's cause to celebrate, but I didn't get a celebration.
In the past 2 years, I have gone through 4 bikes, 5 tents, and 3 pair of shoes. My sleeping bag, a heavy canvas thing I bought on a elk hunting trip in '01 is about worn through on the bottom. I already have a backup. On a daily basis, I am honked at, yelled at, teased, and ridiculed. It is very depressing, discouraging, embarrassing, and humiliating. And yet, I am still trekking along.
My situation has always seemed queer to me. The reason I am homeless, is because no one in this town (Satan George, Utah) would hire me. I can no longer remember how many jobs I applied for and interviewed for in those first three months I lived in here (between January 8 and April 12, 2004). With my experience, I should not have had that problem. I have come to the conclusion that I was guided to this lifestyle at this time for a divine reason I may never fully comprehend or understand.
When I became homeless, I stopped looking for 'employment', considering employment hunting in this socialist state futile. Instead, I concentrated my efforts on writing my stories. Now, I am quite content. It wouldn't bother me in the least bit if I never sell a single story. I have everything I need for this mortal life, and what I need for exaltation, I know I will never get, so what's the purpose? There is none. I am too content.
Well, with no end in sight, happy anniversary to me! :-D