BE NICE

We Have To Be Nice

It's like a dirty, little secret; You have to be nice to get housing. Then - you have to stay nice to retain it. 

The way housing agencies work - there's invariably an "interview"; Though it's called different things, at different places. That's where the caseworker sizes you up - how you comport yourself, your literacy skills (or lack thereof), your physical appearance and general inclination to cooperate. It's a holdover from the 'old days', when housing was only given to people assessed by some arbitrary rating of 'housing ready', or 'in need of further services, before placement.' Those would more than likely get referred to 'transitional housing', as opposed to permanent. It's all judgment calls, based on a top-secret and random scale.

From the homeless person's perspective (which I can give, having been homeless several times, throughout my life); We could be having the worst day, gotten nothing but bad news, been insulted a number of different ways, several different times - that doesn't matter. Come time for the housing intake interview - we'd better suck it up, forget it - and walk in like we just won the lottery.

Shucking, jiving, smiling and being overly solicitous is always acceptable. If they deign to ask how you are - it's expected that you'll lie, and say: "Fine."  If you break down and show any kind of frustration, anger or resistance - you'll be marked as 'uncooperative', and/or 'unprepared for permanent placement.'

Your worker is not your friend. So, don't even think about confiding such relevant information as - you're just at the end of your damn rope. You've shopped your voucher around, all over town, and gotten more than a few rejections, based on nothing but - air. Or, your ex is really excited about your new apartment, and you don't have the nerve to tell him/her they can't move in with you. That's most definitely your problem, not your workers. 

By all means - do not indicate any problems with either your current or past landlord. That's an automatic 'no'; Because, no matter what the situation is/was - it'll invariably end up being your fault.

So, be nice. Smile, wear clean clothes, don't look or act tired, make sure you have everything in order, answers at the ready. Be courteous, efficient and exact. Most importantly - be honest, and be nice. 

But, don't fool yourself; You can do everything right, all the time, and still not "qualify" for housing. See, the game is rigged. Housing managers aren't obligated to find you housing, or even help you find it, yourself. They're only obligated to get certain types of paperwork to fill their file(s), offer you the opportunity, then deftly disappear back into their woodwork.

It's an inefficient system, at best. But - as long as you're nice - you'll go far.

CONTAGION

I wrote a post here recently about how messy it is to be homeless.  How people don't really want to get involved with the minute details of it.  They'd much rather deal in statistics, reports, studies, pictures, film, documentaries, and articles.  Anything - except deal with the actual people, themselves.

And, I totally understand that.  I myself - although I'd been homeless a number of times - know first-hand how messy it can be; You can't have a simple conversation with a homeless person, without their whole life pouring out, as if they're bursting at the seams.  Why is that? I think it's because they get so few opportunities to vent.  They're used to being ignored, overlooked and bypassed.  So, that - when someone actually asks how they're doing - and sticks around for the answer - they tend to let it all hang out...

Try it, sometime.  Stop - and ask a homeless person how they are.  I doubt seriously you'll get the standard:  "I'm fine, how are you?"  Not because they don't know what the standard response is, but simply because they're NOT fine, and don't really feel like lying about it. What's the point?  It's a waste of time.  And time - to a homeless person - is a precious commodity.  It's not something to be wasted or squandered.  Ask a homeless person how they're doing, and you'll get a myriad of responses.  Everything except "I'm fine, how are you?"  You'll get:

• "Awww.... Mannn.... I'm tired..."
• "Good, good... Can't complain..."
• "I'd be better if my worker would just call me back..."
• "Well, the Good Lord saw fit to let me wake-up this morning, so I guess I'm alright..."
• "Hungry.  Say, can you spare a dollar?"

Either that, or simply a cold stare.  We call it The Thousand Mile Stare - that one where they heard you, they're just trying to figure out if you want to hear the truth, or not.

And, what I'd like to say to people is this:  Ask anyway.  Yes, that's right - ask anyway. Because that simple acknowledgement that you presume them to live amongst the human race, without flaw or fallacy is sometimes the lifeline that they need.  Smile, pretend you don't see their rags and bags, that you don't know they're miserable, cold and hungry.  Let them know you know that being homeless is not contagious, even when you secretly think it is.  Sit, and stay a spell, as my wise grandmother used to say.  Listen.  Read between the lines, if they say they're fine (which I highly doubt they will), stay that extra beat of a second, and see if they feel like elaborating.  You might just find you learn something.  Whereas you'll be looking for an opportunity to help them, they just might help you.  Those of you who volunteer know what I'm talking about.  It's not contagious, it's temporary.  But, for that temporary amount of time they exist in a homeless state, a sort of limbo - a painful purgatory - they like to be reminded that life and time are marching on.  They like to be treated as equals, seen as individuals.  It won't hurt, you know - to give fifteen minutes of your time to hear what they have to say.  Stand with them, engage and even - if you can - entertain them.  Entertain their hopes, dreams and current struggles even if you can't relate.  That doesn't matter.  It's your effort, that counts.  I promise, at the end of it - you'll still have a house, and they still won't;  Because, you see - homelessness is not contagious.

PUBLISHED

I feel guilty.  Someone actually paid me for one of my blog posts.  That's like rewarding a fish for swimming.  Why?  I write about what I feel, my experiences. The good, the bad and the ugly - as they say.  It's not pretty, and I don't care to sugarcoat it.  It is what it is...

My fellow advocates and I wring our hands in dismay, as the homeless count increases, and we don't see that proverbial light at the end of the tunnel.  We wonder what's to be done to stem the tide, and accommodate the many men, women, children, disabled, elderly and handicapped who have their own, unique needs, wants and desires.  It all seems so overwhelming.

I've actually been wanting to write about this for awhile.  This thing called housing; It's messy.  It's messy, because it's connected to people, and sometimes people are messy.  They have messy lives, and messy situations, and messy thought patterns, and messy pasts, and messy families, and messy ways of dealing with problems.  Some are in a constant state of panic, some are in denial, some cope - and therefore don't even think they need help.  Some self-medicate.  And, can you blame them?  Really??

Prime example:  This is a scenario my worker and I actually had:

Her:  "Ok... well, we're going to need for you to look for housing..."
Me:  "I don't have a car."
Her:  "Well, can't you get a friend to take you?"
Me:  "No, they work."
Her:  "Well, you can take the bus, right?"
Me:  "Yes, but I don't have much money."
Her:  "Oh, well - I can give you some tokens."
Me:    (Getting needlessly excited) "Great."
Her:  "And, you should call the places before you visit them, to make an     appointment, first."
Me:  "I only have a pre-paid phone, with limited minutes."
Her:  "Oh, well, can't you use the hotel phone?"
Me:  "No, you had them block all outgoing calls, remember?"
Her:  "Oh, yeah..."
She leaves, and comes back with ten tokens.  What the hell am I supposed to do with TEN TOKENS??!!  That barely gets me back to the hotel !

Not to sound ungrateful, but there's a serious disconnect between the types of services being offered to homeless people, and the services they really need. There's also too much reliance on charity and churches to fill the gaps government agencies either can't or won't fill.  There's too much corruption, fraud, waste and abuse by government officials regarding the funding they get from HUD.  They use those funds for their own benefit, at their own discretion, and with lax oversight, if any at all;  And, until that changes, we can expect the homeless counts to go up, and up, and up, and up.  Pretty soon, homelessness is just going to be a fact of life.  And, when that happens, we are well and truly fucked.  We need to move AWAY from housing inequality and homelessness as a cottage industry, and instead - move toward equality and the right to housing for ALL, regardless of race, religion, class, status and income.

PRIVACY

Give it up when you're homeless.  You have none.  Anything and everything about you becomes public knowledge;  Subject to scrutiny and judgement.

Privacy ? There is none.  Anybody and everybody can ask you anything, anytime.  Since being homeless 7 months ago, I've had some of the most disgusting people ask me some of the most disgusting things;  As if - just because they have the power to help you (not that they actually do) that gives them license to probe into your past, present and future.

They want to know:  What went wrong?  How did you end up here?  What bad decision, chance, roll of dice did you take which landed you on dead-end street?  Then, they have the nerve to ask you to reassure them that it could never happen to them.  Oh.... But it could.

They peer at you like you're an animal in the zoo.  They poke at you psychologically, hoping they can find your soft spot.  Then - when they do - they keep poking, and poking, and poking and poking.  They're sadistic freaks, with no life of their own, so they live vicariously through us.  It's just protocol (they say), it'll be kept private (they say), it's just for our files (they say), don't worry (they say), we have to abide by HIPAA (they say - as if they even know what that is).

Imagine all the skeletons you have safely tucked away in your closet come tumbling out - for all the world to see.  Now imagine you have none, but people make up stuff to put in there?  Imagine that.

Apparently, only people with homes deserve privacy.  They don't have to show their id every time they want to buy something, or get a service.  They don't have to justify their existence, all. the. time.....

It gets old, this constant walking around with no clothes on, exposed.  Knowing that you're dealing with some of the most incompetent people in the world, but they've got your name, social security numbers, age, birth certificates private health information, phone numbers, children's personal information, everything - at their fingertips.  Free to use and abuse at will.  In this age of identity theft, they appear oblivious.  We have nothing to steal, after all.  We have nothing to protect - after all...We're nobody's - after all.

LISTEN

When you're homeless, you feel helpless.  Sometimes, all we can do is listen.  That's what I've been doing - a lot of listening.

Being a homeless and affordable housing advocate, not an elected official or government administrator, I have no real power to effect change;  So, I do the next best thing:  I listen.

I listened to a friend of mine, who told me she entered into an agreement with #HUD to do her time at a federally funded rehab facility;  Promising to get clean, go to classes, volunteer at the facility, and - eventually help others on their road to sobriety.  

The prize at the end of the rainbow was supposed to be movement out of that facility, and into transitional housing - then, ultimately - to a place of her own.  That was 7 years ago;  Although it was only supposed to be a temporary situation, it's turned into a morass of hell for her.  She's sober.  She's completed her volunteer work, she's helped more than her fair share of people see the light and comfort of sobriety.  She's done.  But, what happened to the promised transitional housing?  Didn't happen.  The apartment?  Disappeared.  7 years later, she's still stuck in that same, depressing environment, for a seemingly endless amount of time - without hope.  I asked her: "How did this happen?!  What have you done to let them know that you're ready to move on?" She says she doesn't know.  They make promise after empty promise:  'Not this year, maybe next.... Not this year, maybe next...'  She says she's written letters to HUD.  At first, nice, patient and logical:  'This is what you asked me to do... This is what I've done...', to now:  Angry, impatient and demanding. 

It should be no surprise to anyone familiar with HUD that they broke the promise they made to her.  It should be no surprise to anyone familiar with local politics, that they kind of like her where she is - she is a useful and effective tool for the sober house she's employed by, now.  It should be no surprise to anyone familiar with the Section 8 program that there are no houses, no vouchers, no nothing forthcoming - for YEARS. 

 When I talk to a group of people - it's almost like a contest:  'Whose Been on the HUD Wait-List The Longest?'. We all know the game, and it's rules:  Apply, wait, re-apply - because - of course they 'lost' your original application. So, you do that, and the clock resets back to day one.  Re-apply, and wait. Re-apply, and follow-up with phone inquiries.  Wait, wait, wait... Then - wait some more. But, there's hope: If you know somebody, who knows somebody, who knows somebody who works for the Section 8 Program - you might get bumped up the list.  If you're related to somebody who knows somebody, who knows somebody, who knows somebody - you'll get bumped up a little bit farther. Section 8 vouchers are equivalent to the Golden Ticket in Willy Wonkas' Chocolate Factory.  

Your rent is supposedly calculated using a sophisticated (and often non-sensical) formula:  A debt-to-income ratio caps your rent at no more than 30%-40% of your gross income. But, some places 'accidentally' miscalculate it, including such things as Social Security, Veterans disability payments, and Child Support as 'income'.  But, be that as it may - the vouchers are supposed to give us the stability, safety and peace of mind not to have to worry about how we're gonna pay the rent next month. They're supposed to provide security. Except, I've also listened to many people who say that Section 8 landlords are the worst to rent from.  They already 'accept' you, knowing you have nowhere else to go, and probably no one else to rent from.  So, in their twisted minds - that gives them license to treat you like shit, and there's no one in government to disabuse them of that notion. Landlord/Tenant laws be damned - invariably, they harass and stalk you till the cows come home.  But, it's such a "great government program", that I love to hear about all of it's 'benefits', so - I keep listening...


TO BE CONTINUED.........

PRETTY LITTLE LIARS

Anyone who knows me, knows how much I hate liars.  Despise them - can't abide them, WON'T abide them.  What most people don't know is that I also have a built-in lie detector;  Yeah, I can smell bullshit a mile away...

Social services lies all the time.  They say - "just come to us if you need help, and we'll be here."
Oh, they'll 'be there', alright - armed and ready to lie to you (we have no housing, we have no funding, we have no.... nothing).  'We don't know the answer to that, we'll call you back, we're processing your application, the list goes on and on.....  No. Help. At. All.  In fact, when they're not brushing you off, they're busy humiliating you.  When they're not busy humiliating you - they're harassing you.  When they're not busy humiliating or harassing you, they're threatening you.  Oh, yeah - they're TONS of "help" !

Then there's current County Executive Ike Leggett, who spouted some platitude about how nobody in his county should be without a home... What a crock.... All while he knew there was a dearth of affordable housing which the past County Executive Doug Duncan orchestrated, and Ike perpetrated;  How?  By allowing housing developers to slither out of their obligation to set-aside a certain percentage of their complexes for low to moderate income level renters/buyers. Hence - the dearth.  WOW !!! Surprise, surprise that people are having to resort to sleeping on the streets, in over-crowded apartments, or ultimately leaving Montgomery County altogether. No.... That couldn't have been their master plan all along.... Could it?  Because, that would make them evil, diabolical, manipulative assholes.  Neither one of those clowns will be getting my vote in the upcoming race for County Executive, because I'm voting for Mickey Mouse.  At least he's entertaining...

Shaun Donovan, former secretary of the federal Housing and Urban Development (HUD).  First of all, dude - you're not really an architect, so you might wanna .... I don't know - take that off of your resume?  It's called (say it with me):  LYING.  HUD is helping to eradicate homelessness? No, they're helping themselves to the billions of taxpayer money set aside to eradicate homelessness.  That's what they're REALLY doing.  Don't believe me?  Just Google HUD+SCANDAL or HUD+CORRUPTION.  You'll get all the proof you need...

Governor O'Malley claims to want to eradicate homelessness in his great state of Maryland? Oh?  Is that why he's allowing public housing to be sold en masse to the highest bidder through RAD grants?  

I could go on and on... 

LUCKY

People say I'm lucky.  Lucky, because I happen to be homeless in the best place to be homeless - a hop, skip and a jump from the nations Capital - Washington DC.  Heck, Congressman Van Hollens office is literally right in my backyard;  Or it would be if I had one....Surely the 'powers-that-be' wouldn't allow that to happen there.... ?!?!  

See, I've lived, worked and volunteered in Rockville, Maryland for the last 25 years.  But, apparently that's not good enough for the rich, upper crust here.  No, they want me to shuck and jive, dance a jig - do blackface for their entertainment, sing for my supper, while they toss pennies into my hat.  And, for that - I should be grateful.

"Oh, you're SO lucky !" (As if being homeless is a fortunate event...)  "There're SO MANY RESOURCES available for you !!".... (Uuuhhhhhhh.... No.... There're not)

This is an election year, and it might seem that local politicians would jump at the chance to show that they support and care for their homeless Veteran population, but they can't even muster the energy to fake it.  Nope, just can't be done....  Unfortunately, I've had to deal with a confederacy of dunces, and a long list of imbeciles which includes a shady cast of characters:  

There's 'Liz' (her real name, I pull no punches here, and nobody gets any protection), a housing specialist whose affiliated with my counseling agency.  She's just wayyyyyyyyyyy, wayyyyyyyyyyy "too busy" to give a shit about me.

There's Ike Leggett, current County Executive whose also wayyyyyyyyy, wayyyyyyyyyy too busy running his re-election campaign, and pandering to the white elite to even be bothered to return my phone calls, so he shunts me off to his henchman - 

Michael Subin.  What can I say about Mike?  Just google his name, you'll figure him out soon enough.....

Then there's City Councilwoman - the token black - Virginia Onley.  Sure, she's shuttled me back and forth from one seedy motel to the next, as she should, because her son (whose a Montgomery County Police Officer), was instrumental in evicting me illegally; But as far as any REAL advocacy or 'help'?  Nope, not happening.

Let's not even talk about the merry band of bumbling idiots at DHHS (Department of Health and Human Resources), WOW.  If 'incompetence' were a gold medal event at the Olympics, well - let's just say they'd sweep it, easily.

Then, there's Mayor Bridget Newton, whose just too cute for words.  Really, that's about all she's good for.  President Obama put forth his 'Mayors Challenge' for mayors across the country to sign up, as a commitment to ending homeless in their cities.  Bridget couldn't be bothered. She was too busy - oh, hell - I don't know what was going through her mind that she couldn't or wouldn't take the time to pick up a lousy pen and sign her name to a largely symbolic commitment to end homelessness;  I can't even venture a guess...  Well, maybe I can - judging by the way I've been treated here, especially these last two years - Rockville City has made it crystal clear that it doesn't want low-income, or even moderate income residents to stick around and get too comfortable, for too long.  

Forget the great quality of life purportedly offered here, in tony Montgomery County - that's not for 'us', it's for 'them', you know.... 'the others'.  We're only supposed to be here just long enough to mow their expansive lawns, clean their McMansions, serve their gourmet meals, and wash their dirty laundry, not air it.  Ooooops.  Guess I didn't get that memo.....

DANCING

The late, great Gilda Radner - comic, writer, actress and wife of Gene Wilder passed away of ovarian cancer too soon.  

We all know her for her humor, her many voices, her spontaneity, her smile, her laughter.  But, what a lot of people don't know is that she was also a fierce fighter.  After being diagnosed with ovarian cancer, she fought.  Oh, she fought like a lion.  She researched, and became well-versed in alternative healing therapies, because the chemo was too strong for her frail body to handle. She became a vegetarian, and experimented with macrobiotics.  Some which helped, most which didn't.  She fought the doctors, obviously knowing her own body and it's limits better than they.  She knew what they didn't:  That she was working on borrowed time.

She also wrote a book, titled:  'I'm Dancing As fast As I Can';  Meaning - regardless of the challenges she faced, she always tried to stay one step ahead.  She knew her fate, because - above all else - she was a very intelligent person.  

So, when I'm facing adversity, and feel like I can't go on, I think of Gilda.  Her perseverance and tenacity, humor in the midst of darkness - give me strength.  Ever since I read her book, she's been my hero, my go-to person in times of need.  I can't explain it, but she feels like my soulmate, in a sense.

When ten different people ask me to do twenty different things, I say to myself:  "I'm dancing as fast as I can."  When I just want to give up, but the obligations are still there the next morning, I hear Gilda saying:  "I'm dancing as fast as I can...."  When I just want to sit down, but am called to stand up, I'm actually amazed:  "I'm dancing as fast as I can,"  I think....  When people make smart comments, and judgement calls on me and my situation, and I just want to say:  FUCK YOU !!  Instead, I calmly say:  "I'm dancing as fast as I can."  In other words - leave me alone.  I'm doing the best I can with what I've got, and if you could do it better, I'd certainly like to see you try.

Meanwhile - I'M  DANCING  AS  FAST  AS  I  CAN.

TOUR GUIDE

Oh, hi.  I'm Lydia.  I'll be your tour guide to HOMELESSNESS today.  If you could just please take your shoes off at the door... socks, too.. much appreciated.  Oh, and you can leave your dignity there, too - you won't be needing that where we're going.  Oh, dear... You're not really dressed for the occasion... But, that's ok.  I'll help you.  Don't worry... Just take my hand... here, let's go -

Ok, first - if you could fill out this form, yeah - that one too... then, uhm...turn it over and put your name here, sign here, there, yeah - there too.  Initial this, sign that, good.  Now, flip the page and - what did you say your name was?  Nevermind, it doesn't matter.... Right, okay - then - let's speed this up, it's almost lunchtime... okay - did you get that?  Read this, sign that... Initial here, here and there.... Now, date it... No, you don't need a copy, it's just for my files....

You have kids?  you get child support?  do you know who their dads are?  do you know WHERE their dads are?  Hhhhmmnn... What?  I'm sorry, no.  I didn't hear you - it doesn't matter. So, Uuuhhmmnn... You're gonna definitely need to come up with some additional income before we can help you.... How much?  Oh, I don't know.. you might have to come back tomorrow to complete the interview.  Wait.  Could you just wait here for a minute?  

20 M I N U T E S   L A T E R ------------>

Ok,  I'm back, just a few more questions... What did you say happened with your family? Really? When was that?  Could you call them for help?  Oh, you already did?  What did they say?  Oh, huh.... Well, what about your friends?  Neighbors?  Co-workers?  Really... oh, that's interesting... Well, do you have a contact number for them?  Maybe if I called them , and told them you were about to be homeless, they might want to help you more.... ?  You think?   Well, uuuhhmmnn.... aahhhhh... I mean, we could give it a try... So, otherwise - what's your plan?  Hhhhmmnn.. That hardly seems workable... Well, let me ask you this - what did you do with your tax refund?  Don't remember?  We really need that information for our files... Car payment, okay, clothes... A mini VACATION ??!!  Wow, maybe we should sign you up for budget counseling... Right, okay - that's uhhh.. You know what else we need?  Do you have your drivers license, birth certificate, social security cards, leases, utility bills, most recent bank statement ...Well, could you at least get your tax information for us?  No.  Right - I understand, well .... It's just procedure, really - for our files... So, when do you think you could bring in this information?  The sooner, the better.... Well, we can't help you without it..... No.  Sorry.... Yeah, I wish we could... But, without a workable plan ... It'll be hard to do... Uh huh.... I don't know the answer to that, let me check on it later.... Okay... No, that's not important..... Right... Just bring us the information we need, and maybe we can work something out from there... Meanwhile.... Why don't you call your mom and dad.. Oh, your moms dead?  Right, sorry to hear that - what about your dad? No?  but maybe if you tell him your situation... And then... no, well... uhh.... I don't know.... I don't think so....  Let me go check on that......

25 M I N U T E S  L A T E R ----------------->

Oh, hi - wow ... I almost forgot you were in here... Now, where were we?  Right, you were going to call your long, long, lost cousin on your Uncles side of the family, and .... Uh huh, right - you don't know his number?  Well, could you find it?  Yeah, no... We can't really do anything for you until you've exhausted all of your resources.. Let me ask you this - when was the last time you smoked, drank?  How often?  Uh, huh.... oh,.... I see... okay.... uhhhmmnn..... so.... is this a problem for you?  I mean.... do you need counseling or something?   Maybe I could give you a referral to the drug treatment program... right... okay,  oh - I almost forgot - could you read this and sign here?  There, too.   Uh, huh... No, that's ok - i understand, it's a lot to do - but we need this information for our files... This?  Oh, it's just a consent to talk to your counselor about the drug test results you're going to take this Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday.... Don't have a car? have to be at work?  Well, no... no.. we aren't allowed to place you until you complete this mandatory drug testing and counseling... well, that depends... if you come up positive, we would need to have another meeting to discuss it... No, not really - yes - you have to go to every single one, you can't miss one.  Yes, someone will be in the room with you while you pee... It's just a process,.... don't worry - everyone does it... Yeah... Ok - so - did you have any other questions? 
Sorry, i don't know anything about that.... No, we won't have an answer for at least another week or so.... where are you supposed to sleep?  Well, I don't know... the shelters are full, and there're no hotel or motel rooms available, so i guess you'll just have to... make do.... are you SURE you don't have anyone you can call?  No?  Oh, wow - that's really too bad.... sorry we couldn't do more for you.... Maybe if you come back next month, we might have an opening then.... Bye bye.

EVIL PEOPLE

We've butchered the English language.  We throw around terms way, way too cavalierly.  But,  there are times when certain phrases fit certain people.  

In the many dealings I've had with Social Services, Police, court personnel, Judges and housing 'specialists' here lately, I've come to the conclusion that there are truly, evil people in this world;  I know this - because I've seen them up close and personal.  So, here's my 'evil people' roll call:

Kevin McParland, Esquire

Stacy Brooks, Rockville Housing Enterprises Account Manager

Gerry Peet, Rockville Housing Enterprises Property Manager

Montgomery County, MD Police and Sheriffs Officers (you know who you are)

Denise Anderson, DHHS Manager

Vera Johnson, DHHS Manager

Ina Weiser, DHS Case Worker

Uma Ahluwalia, DHHS Director

Trudye Khan, DHHS Assistant Director

Shaun Donovan, HUD Director

James Brown, HUD Regional Director

Catherine Scaringi, HUD OIG Investigator

The above is just a short list, but definitely stand out among the most evil I've had the misfortune of coming into contact with this last year.  There are others, the ones who used my private information to benefit themselves, and forward their fraudulent schemes;  The ones who actively worked behind the scenes counter to my goal of housing stability.  The ones who were so blinded by their racist, discriminatory practices and old-school belief systems, they couldn't see straight.  Those politicians and elected officials who couldn't be bothered to return my phone calls, or suspend their (re)election campaigns long enough to look into this disabled veterans claims, and numerous pleas for help.  Those who ignored President Obama's many initiatives to rapidly re-house homeless people, without pre-conditions;  Who enjoyed watching me wiggle and squirm during their many pointless interrogations about why and how I became homeless - determined to find fault with my decisions and lifestyle.  

It's said that the number of psychopaths and sociopaths slinking through our society masquerading as 'human' is more than originally thought;  I've had to interact with these people as a condition of receiving benefits.  I know they're evil, because being in their presence made my skin crawl, and the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.  That's what true evil feels like: Like you can't escape their presence fast enough;  Like you need to take a shower after being in the same room with them, like you'd be only too happy never to see them again.  You can see it in their eyes:  Their soulless, black eyes.  The glint of glee they get when they use their power to say: "NO";  Those who lied directly to my face, and repeatedly used disgusting manipulation techniques to further my emotional and psychological distress.  The list goes on, and on....

What's to be done about these people?  Why, Karma - of course.  Karma can be a BITCH...

ANYTHING

As I was sitting at the bus stop yesterday, I saw it:  The drivers had to stop at the light right in front of the bus stop, and I saw it again, repeatedly - in fact.  That look.  The one from drivers and passengers alike:  The one which said:  'I'm not sure how you got there, but I'd do anything not to be you.'  The blank, resolute stare which said - 'I'd. Do. ANYTHING.'


I'll put up with an abusive boyfriend, not to be you....
I'll put up with my alcoholic husband, not to be you....
I'll put off that divorce I've been wanting, so I don't have to be you.
I'll pawn my mothers wedding ring, so I can make this car payment and rent, not to be you...
I'll put up with my slob of a roommate, not to be you...
I'll work three jobs, not to be you....
I'll pretend to like someone I don't really like, just so I can get a loan from them;  Anything - not to be you...
I'll continue to live with my ignorant, judgmental in-laws, just so I don't have to be you....
I'll sell my soul, and sleep with the devil.... Anything - not to be YOU !


And, who am I?  Oh, well I'm a normal, average person whose fallen down on bad luck;  But they don't know that.  Any number of factors could be used to mix up a recipe of how I became ME.
Racism, discrimination, in my case - fraud, greed, waste, mismanagement and harassment led to eviction from a #HUD funded public housing complex called Rockville Housing Enterprises. Oh, they're horrible, nasty people - especially Stacy Brooks, the biggest (literally) and nastiest of them all.  They'd repeatedly send me eviction letters in the mail, and post the bright, yellow copy to my door for everyone in the neighborhood to see;  Despite the fact that I'd already paid it...  Ignore maintenance requests, talk bad about me to private sub-contractors behind my back, in general - smear my name and defame my character.  It wasn't bad enough that my home was in the worst part of town;  Complete with drugs, shootings and stabbings.... No, they also knowingly housed us in a mold-ridden home, which wasn't up to code;  Right next to an open sewage drain, rife with mosquitoes and other unsavory bugs, insects and debris.  It was toxic.  The whole situation was toxic, as a matter of fact.  It caused both my son and I to dread coming 'home'.  Did you ever feel that way?  But, I put up with it, WHY?!  Because I would've done anything, ANYTHING, not to be me.

BUBBLEGUM

My friends and I used to play a game when we were younger, called - 'Who can blow the biggest bubble'?!  It was like a dare.  A D-double-dog dare.  And you NEVER tun down a D-double dog dare.

So, we'd go at it:  Only one person could win, and he usually cheated by chewing 2 pieces of gum, rather than the requisite one.  Anyway, it would start off like fun - taking turns, and laughing when someone couldn't do it at all.  But, there was always that 'expert', who would be able to blow it the largest, and make it last the longest.  Then, there was the denouement - it popped. And it would cause the biggest mess:  All in his hair, nose, chin, ears, hands and clothes.  Then, he would furiously try to pick it off, which only made it worse.  Then - panic set in:  "What am I gonna tell my mom?!"

That's what my lawsuit against Rockville City, the Mayor and City Council is like now:  Fun and games, according to them, at least.  I had a pending civil suit against them in District Court, but they filed a Motion to Dismiss, and we had a hearing on it this morning.  They won, of course - because the judges and lawyers always stick together.  A thick band of merry thieves, those...

It was a cute little stunt, on behalf of their henchman:  One Mr. Payman Tehrani, Esq., Assistant City Attorney. I'm suing for a grossly inadequate amount, considering the damages I've incurred. But, see - while they're playing games with our lives, and abdicating responsibility for their culpability, it's fun.  I'm sure they had a nice laugh at my expense around the water cooler today.

But, what they don't know is that I'm like a dog with a bone:  I may have lost the battle, but I'm going to win the war.  I'm not going to stop until the City has to file bankruptcy to pay my damages;  Because I'm an old-fashioned fossil, who believes that housing is a human right, contracts weren't made to be broken, you don't ruin someones life just for kicks and giggles.

Yes, it may very well be a game to them right now, but the bubblegum is going to blow-up in their face.  When they're sued for quadruple the current amount, their name is synonymous with 'slumlord', they continue their pattern of discrimination and harassment - we'll go to war (metaphorically speaking, of course).  

There's a saying:  'There's nothing worse then backing a rabid dog into a corner', because he has nothing left to lose.  He'll panic, then attack.  And, you don't want to be in the room when that happens.  

I'm that dog.

HELP

"We're here to help you...."

Mannnnnnnnn... If I only had a nickel for every time I've heard that phrase this last year.  I'd be a very rich woman.

If "help" means patronizing me, ignoring me, disregarding me, harassing me, evicting me, threatening me, placating me, violating my civil rights, spying on me, stealing from me, breaking my household items, assaulting me... Ok, then yes - I've been "helped" a lot.  So much, I wish it would stop. So much, it's negatively affected my health.  So much, that my son's G.P.A. dropped from 3.0 to 2.0.  He used to be an Honor student, and active participant in his community, now I can barely get him out of bed. Oh, yeah - we've been "helped", alright.  Local politicians are so afraid to really help their homeless population, for fear of pissing off the white elite. NIMBY is alive and well, and (no pun intended) living in our backyard.  Lol... The common mis-perception is that there's always a ready charity, organization, group, department or agency there to pick up the pieces of our broken lives.  But, that ain't so.  Oh, sure - they take federal homeless assistance money, but they keep it for themselves.  See, it goes to that fuzzy thing called 'overhead'.  Staffing, outreach, electric, gas, fancy office space, paintings, cars, gas reimbursement, computers, paper, paperwork, studies, meetings, coffee, lunches, etc... etc... etc... You get the picture.  Oh - they're "helping", alright: Themselves.

CRAZYTOWN

I live in Crazytown, USA, where they can find $100,000.00 to spy on people, but they can't seem to put that same amount of money, time or energy towards finding homes for homeless families.  Don't believe me?  Read this:

http://www.infoworld.com/d/networking/white-house-led-team-demo-internet-of-things-systems-243130?page=0,0

As a homeless veteran, this disgusts and embarrasses me.  That I could be part of a community who so clearly have their priorities all screwed up.  That they'd be able to sleep comfortably in their multi-million dollar McMansions, blissfully unaware and unconcerned about what's happening in the 'real world'.  That they don't care.  County Executive Ike Leggett said some platitude about 'no one in his county should go without a roof over their heads.' Uhmmnn... Not to sound ungrateful or anything - but I assumed he meant a permanent roof, not the multitude of temporary hotel/motel roofs we've been subjected to over these last six months.
It's untenable.  They're building a fancy, new hotel in the heart of Town Center, for rich people to wine and dine in.  Ok,...then they tear down low-income, affordable housing to make way for fancy new townhouses - once again - for rich people.  To their credit, they've recently built two new retirement homes - once again - for rich OLD people (notice the distinction there?)  They're unabashedly pricing out the very people who made this an "ALL AMERICA TOWN" (yeah.... that's their slogan).  Gone is the skating rink for the kids, the putt-putt golf, the gaming arcade, the pool hall.  This is becoming yuppytown aka crazytown.  It's not even the same place I enjoyed raising my kids in just ten years ago.  It's a shadow of it's former self.  The prejudice and bigotry not even bothered to be hidden anymore.  If you make less than $50,000.00 - it's goodbye, so long, see ya later, sayonara..... Don't let the doorknob hit ya... Well, you get my point. Welcome to CRAZYTOWN.

THREE CARD MONTE

A woman I know, let's call her 'J' was at the Holiday Inn.  She was homeless, with two children.

A man I know, let's call him 'E' was also at the Holiday Inn.  He was homeless, also with two children.

Another woman I know, let's call her 'P' - coincidentally also temporarily housed at the Holiday Inn, with two children.

Now, add myself - with one child in tow.

J goes to the American Inn.

E goes to the American Inn

P goes to a shelter

I go to the American Inn

Then, J goes to the Comfort Inn, E goes to the Comfort Inn, P is still at the shelter, and I go back to the Holiday Inn.  All this in the span of a month.

Pick the family whose still homeless.  Nope, not J, nooooo... not E.  No - not P.  Me?  Well - lol... I kind of tricked you - we're ALL still homeless.  

This is because we made the unfortunate choice to live in Montgomery County, Maryland - where they don't have a 5-year plan to end homelessness.  In fact, they don't even have a plan. For some reason, they think it makes much more sense  it's much more fun to shuffle families around.  It amuses them.  They shake their heads, and make 'tsk, tsk' sounds when they describe us to their friends and families, they joke about us over their cocktails at happy hour....  It's all just one, big game to them.  Like three card monte - they're the 'shills', and we're the 'marks'.  They conspire with their co-workers to put us through extreme emotional distress, just to see how fast they can 'break' us.  Then, when they finally do - we're referred to Anger Management (because, obviously - WE have a problem !).  When that doesn't work, they threaten to call Child Protective Services and have our children taken away from us.  All because we can't afford the exorbitant rents for the luxury town-homes they can't stop building. They're addicted to the power saying 'no' gives them.  Folding their arms and sitting back with their smug expressions - as if to say:  "You're wasting my time, I've got better things to do...", because they have homes, they have cars, they have meaningful, productive lives - but of course - we don't.  Our health and welfare couldn't mean less to them.  For the amount of money they wasted shuffling us from hotel to motel across the County, they could've helped us get stabilized in an apartment of our own;  But, no - that's not nearly as much fun....

GIMMIE

When I was a kid, and there was something we wanted, we'd just say: "gimmie, gimmie, gimmie !", with our anxious hands stretched out to grab... Finally, one day - my cousin said:  "Gimmie got SHOT !"  Then we all laughed, and carried on.

I didn't get it then, I just pretended to... But, I laughed with the rest just the same.  Now I know - people who want, want, want, and beg, beg, beg all the time - end up getting nothing.  In fact, expecting something without giving anything in return could REALLY get you shot - for real.

That's what I think of, when I hear HUD Secretary Shaun Donovan speak.  He's always asking, begging, wanting, needing... More, and more and more and more.... He's like that greedy little kid on the street whose got his own marbles, but he wants YOURS, TOO !

Case in point:   http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/07/14/hud-awards-colorado-12-mi_n_898246.html

HUD awarded $12 million dollars to the State of Colorado for upgrades and improvements to their public housing units.  However, the last sentence in the article quotes him as saying:  "...The funding helps, but it's not enough".  Well, gee, Mr. Secretary - how much would be enough?  14 million?  16 million?  How about we just hand you a blank check and let you write in the amount YOU think is just and fair ??  How about you use reputable contractors to do the work within the budget?  How about you house people in code compliant homes in the first place, so that you wouldn't need so much money later to make them code compliant?  How about you not squander and waste the money you've already been given by the taxpayers of America, so that you wouldn't have to go to the President and Congress every year with your hat in hand, and your palm up... Saying:  "Gimmie, gimmie, gimmie....."  without shame or embarrassment.  At least have that.... Dang....

TRAP HOUSE

TRAP HOUSE

Don't know what that is, do you?  It's a house that police set-up with cameras and audio wire taps to record the drug activity going on inside.  Here's a link to demonstrate what I'm talking about:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lRuxedRI2q4

But, what I'd like to talk about here today is the negative impact these 'trap houses' have on neighboring residents:

I lived in a suburb of Washington, DC back in 2001.  It was a nice neighborhood.  A good mix of  races, religions and ages.  Kids played football in the street.  They rode their bicycles and skateboards down the sidewalks.  We all got along, and life was grand.  Until our local Police department (in conjunction with HUD) got the bright idea to set-up a trap house down the street.  Overnight, our neighborhood was under siege.  We stayed indoors much of the time, because crackheads came from all over to visit the trap house.  The kids didn't play outside anymore.  Morning, noon and night, the crackheads could be seen walking, like zombies - to the crackhouse.  We complained.  We took pictures.  Lawn ornaments began disappearing, and we all feared for our safety.  One of my neighbors openly threatened the drug dealer who supplied the house, and was threatened in return.  There were fights and stabbings.  We thought that would surely be the end of it, they would shut it down - but they didn't.  They allowed it to continue.

Did the crackheads realize they were visiting a trap house?  No, and I don't think they cared.  Did they know or understand how much they were ruining our neighborhood?  No, and I don't think they cared.  Did they know they were threatening our health, safety and welfare?  No, and I don't think they cared.

It did no good to complain to my landlord, who was a Housing Authority under HUD.  Because, I realized much later, that they were in cahoots with the local Police to run this 'sting' operation, it was a HUD operated property, and they approved the operation.  They were determined to do their part in our 'war on drugs', no matter the human cost in the process. I was a good tenant, and a respectful neighbor - but, this was asking too much of myself and my family.  

So, for the better part of six months we lived as no one should live - like prisoners in our own homes.  I only hope the police accomplished their goal, and caught the people involved in the drug ring;  However, they should know that it was at our expense, and that's unforgivable. That's what living in public housing under HUD feels like - hell.

Fence-line Community

Hi again, all - 

I read a profile in 'O' magazine entitled: 'The Avenging Angel', about a political activist named Hilton Kelley - who lives and works out of Port Arthur, Texas.  Though he grew up there, and moved away to pursue numerous other endeavors and jobs, one visit back home propelled him into political activism.  Quoting the articles' Author, in introduction of Mr. Kelley, he says this:  "What do you do when your hometown is dying-wheezing in the shadow of massive oil refineries spewing poison through parks and playgrounds around the clock?  If you're Hilton Kelley, you get angry.  Then you get smart-raising your voice, raising money, and raising awareness as one of the most effective, exciting activists of your generation."

Mr. Kelley is quoted as saying:  "Clean, breathable air is a basic, human right".  He's most astounded by the conditions of Carver Terrace, a federally subsidized housing project that was built in 1952 opposite the Gulf and Texaco oil refineries; Hence, the term he coined: 'fence line'community.  Any residential developments literally abutting acres-in this case, more than 7,000-of industrial might, hardly any distance between homes and toxic conditions.  "...People are breathing benzene out here," says Kelley.  "That's a known carcinogen (cancer-causing agent).  They're breathing sulfur dioxide, a toxin that messes with your respiratory system.  People call that the rotten-egg smell," which grossly understates the issue, making it sound more comfortably domestic than it should-inhaling sulphur dioxide feels like swallowing burlap.  "Clean, breathable air,"  says Kelley, "is a basic human right that folks out here have been deprived of."  There's no healthcare clinic here, either, in a region where pediatric asthma is common and the cancer rate is higher than in the rest of the state.  I think it goes without saying that the residents of this community are the most disenfranchised, the poorest, the least politically active, and environmentally educated.  In short, they don't know they're dying because of something they have to do everyday:  breathe.  They don't know that the powers that be make decisions about their lives, health and welfare for the economic benefit of their towns, to the detriment of them and their children.  It boggles the mind that someone - anyone - would intentionally poison a group of people for money.  So much so, that Kelley finds himself on a one-man crusade.  He observes that as the oil refineries grew, the land around them became less and less residentially desirable, although it continued to be developed through 1970 for low-income housing.  If that's not the very definition of institutionalized, economic racism, I'm not sure what it is....

I can relate to Mr. Kelley, his anger and his frustration.  As you might know from my previous blogs and posts, I myself live in public housing (subsidized by HUD), on a dead-end street, next to an industrial park with no less than 15 HAZMAT companies, across from an active landfill.  Our neighborhood is literally fenced in.  And, astoundingly, there are also several parks and schools within a 10 mile radius.  Coincidentally or not, you'll find very few white people living here (those that are are cops).  Most are 'minorities', with really no place else to go.  A friend of mine in the Mayors office told me once:  "David Skull is the place where they put you when they want to forget about you."  

For someone like myself, who is politically, economically, legally and scientifically educated - it hurts my sensibilities and insults my intelligence that here - in 2013, we still see the poor as 'sub-human', undeserving of safe, quality housing.  That our so-called political 'leaders' still justify their heinous actions as appropriate.  That to this day they bank on the ignorance and apathy of the poor, elderly and disabled to increase their personal and political cache.  Slavery is over, technically - but when one group benefits economically off the backs of another class or group of people - what is that - I ask you?

Kier Corp's Crap:The Destruction of a Landmark: The Cost of Kier's Negligence: The Life of Drew Ga...

Kier Corp's Crap:The Destruction of a Landmark: The Cost of Kier's Negligence: The Life of Drew Ga...: ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ---------------------------------------------- ...

ASTHMA

For those of you who think I'm just a hysterical opportunist - here's a snapshot of the last 24 hours of my life:

6:00am Tues:  My son had been exhibiting signs of an early asthma attack, or cold, or bronchitis, or pneumonia for about a week... So, I run a hot bath hoping to break-up the mucus in his chest.  It worked.  He spits up a huge clump of phlegm and spits it into the toilet, (Sorry to be so graphic, but this is pertinent).  Then, he turns to me and asks: "Is it bad if it was red?"

(Oh no, here we go again, I think - this is the second or third time this has happened since we've lived here, and it's not a 'normal' asthmatic indicator.)

I try to hide my alarm, as I casually answer: "Yes, it's bad;  It was probably blood.  Please let me see it before you flush it next time".

7:30am Tues:  Parent / Teacher conference where my son is groggy and lethargic throughout.  Coughing the whole time.

Wed:  More of the same, except worse.

Thurs:  We go to the Pediatricians office, for the whole drill - pulse ox reading, physical exam, three asthma treatments in a row, and medications, medications, medications, and more medications.  

Fri:  Home from school, having a hard time getting him to eat - that's been going on all week though.  I ask every hour - applesauce? No. soup? No. Oranage juice? No. Jello? No. Crackers? No. Ice Cream? No.  That's when I KNOW he's sick - when he turns down ice cream.

Come to find out that there's four storm drains (that's what my landlord calls them - sounds much better than sewage drains) holding standing 'water' in this area.  Standing water breeds mosquitoes, which we have A LOT of here.  One is in the park across from my house, another is in my backyard, two sandwich a playground kids play at.  They've figured out how to pry open the jury-rigged wood and screen coverings over the drains.  It's only a matter of time before a child falls in.  Only a matter of time.

Sat:  By now we're both exhausted from following doctors orders for round the clock asthma treatments.  I've long since figured out a way to give him a treatment while he's sleeping.  

Meanwhile, life marches on.  Tuesday he goes back to school - and works overtime - almost relapsing - in an effort to make up for lost schoolwork and assignments.

Ugh.  I've decided to run fans non-stop in my house in order to cleanse the air to prevent another asthma incident.  Living next to an industrial park is disgusting and toxic.  However, according to HUD, it's normal and appropriate.  They simply have a separate set of rules for homeowners and renters.  Renters get moved around cities, counties and States like chess pieces on a chess board.  At their whim, and most times to our detriment.

There's more I could add, but I'm tired.  I have to take a lot of medications now, myself - and my energy levels haven't been what they should be.  Not to mention I'm under constant threat of eviction - it's enough to drive anyone mad.

I'm mad, but I'm also M A D !