Daily Archives: December 16, 2015

Library

I am at the library again. There are some children here. A younger woman is sitting across from me. Next to a young man. But they aren’t here together. I haven’t seen the hot librarian yet today.

It is cold and dark outside. But comfortable inside. A librarian is working at the desk. She has short dark hair.

The young woman across from me is wearing a bubble jacket. Her hair long and dark brown. It falls in natural un-brushed beauty. It lays on her shoulders. And flows down her breast. But not she is getting up. She pushes in the chair. And after logging out of her computer leaves.

The librarian comes and goes from the desk. She is wearing a purple coat.

The young man across from me tries to focus. He has headphones. Now he is writing in a note pad.

But focus is hard with children making noise. They get his attention. A mother is talking to her children.

The librarian has come back to the desk. She has silver clips in her hair. And silver earrings peek from under her hair. Her ID hangs from a black lanyard around her neck.

An older man is sitting down. He has a library laptop. The library loans out Chromebooks for use at the library. He is talking to himself. Whispering “okay, okay, lets see…” as he sets up the device.

Now he seems to think he can call Google by name. He is distracting the young man trying to focus.

“Do you know how many times I have done that,” he rudely asks the librarian. “Ten times maybe already.”

But he has just gotten here. And hasn’t done anything ten times. Even though was rude. The librarian helps. She lets his rude tone go.

Libraries are not quiet places. Right now I hear kids chatting. Also a mother is reading aloud.

Where is the hot librarian. I don’t see her today. The young man is working on math homework. On graph paper are geometric shapes. The older man makes noises. He hangs his head over the laptop.

The mother is leaving. She is telling her children not to leave a mess.

At the desk the librarian watches the room. A woman with a sleeping back just came in. The man is grunting. Talking under his breath. He is distracting.

The young man is using his cellphone. He looks to be absorbed in the behavior. It may be related to his homework. Or it may be something else.

The man across from me is balding. He murmurs under his breath. The young man stretches his neck and relaxes his shoulders. He is watching a video on his phone. It doesn’t look to be math related.

The library has gone quiet. Since the children left. Now only a few children remain. They are busy with tablets. There is a young boy and two young girls.

Their mother is waiting. She wears a black bubble coat. This is the right weather for a good coat.

A young patron searches for a book. He is referred to the librarian.

The young man is talking to a woman who just arrived.

“Where are we going?”

She has on a neon vest. Yellow with orange stripes. She is trying to check her email. They are talking about an interview.

The woman may be the young man’s mother. She has blonde-brown hair down her back. She wears wire rim glasses. And is using a library computer.

The mother of a young boy roams the library. She has curly hair. She tied it in a small bun on top of her head. But her hair still curls down past her shoulders. She watches her children use the library tablet. Under a thin grey sweater is a turquoise top. She has left with the boys.

The mother is searching for her phone. Her son is helping her. She just had her phone. And now it is gone. Well, this has happened to me before. It must be somewhere.

In a Voss water bottle she has tea. Now she has found her phone. And all is good in the world.

The former librarian left. A new librarian has taken her place. Susan is older. She has dark plastic rimmed glasses. Her hair is short and graying. I have seen her at the library before.

The mother and her son have not left. It is just me and the grunting man. All the children also gone.

And the young mothers gone. The library will be closing soon. Maybe at 6 p.m.

A strange man in a Christmas hat is talking to the librarian. The hat looks like the top of a brick chimney. From the top of the hat Santa’s legs are sticking out. Around the hat, “Ho Ho Ho” is written.

The man has a library ID badge. His sweater has red, white and blue stripes. But now he has walked away.

I need to remember to post this before the library turns off the internet at 10 minutes to 6 p.m.

The hot librarian is not here today. At least I have not seen her. There is a woman in a red jacket. Her jeans are a bright blue colour. Not blue like jeans. But a purer more vibrant blue. They are almost a purple colour.

A woman is at the desk. Her hair tied back in low pig tails. She wears a blue-green sweater and jeans. The jeans are tight and slim to her legs. She is wearing black shoes. The librarian is helping her locate an address.

Wait, I think I hear the hot librarian. But I could have been wrong. It could have been someone else. Someone with a sexy voice.

Maybe on the way out I will get a peak.

The Big Move

The big move. I made it because a bunch of little moves were not working.

I moved from Santa Cruz to Portland. The first step of the move was Thanksgiving with M.

My plan had been to go home for Thanksgiving. But a couple days before I called my mom. I wanted information about plans. But all she could do was complain about my sister. Just a moment I told her.

Then I hung up and called M. Can I visit I asked her. And she told me to come up on the bus. So I rode the bus for 12 hours. The visit went well and we made plans for me to move. I would move to Seattle. We would be together.

Before I could leave Santa Cruz, M told me we would only be friends. I moved to Portland because she hated Portland. I had enough money for the bus ticket. And because it wasn’t too far from M. I still loved her deeply. I thought about going to Austin. But it was further. And the bus ticket would have cost much more.

I wonder sometimes how much different my life would be if I had gone to Austin.

I rode the bus into Portland. And started living on the streets of a wet city. It gets cold in the bay area. It rains in the bay area. But the weather in Portland was different. And I got sick.

For a while I slept under a freeway overpass. It was close to downtown. And it was just under a ledge of the overpass. I slept there for many night with the cold wet air. I managed to stay dry for the most part.

During the day I wondered downtown. I tried to get together money. And I looked for a place to live. But finding a job with no place to live is hard.

I was doing signature collection. One of the issues was to disband Metro. In Oregon, Metro is a regional body with authority over growth issues. It also runs the zoo. I didn’t understand what Metro was at the time. One woman stopped to ask me questions. When it was clear I didn’t understand she got angry.

“You’re not even a citizen here,” she yelled. “You’re more of an interstate resident. It would be better if you were panhandling.”

And at times it felt like it was true.

Eventually someone showed me an empty house to sleep in at night. Which is good, I was really sick. During the day I would go to the bookstore and try and read. Try to stay awake. At night I would toss and turn and be so hot. I had fever dreams like never before in my life.

One dream I was Van Gogh and I knew perfect brush strokes. I would dream about the strokes. Then wake up. The dream was inescapable. Every time I went back to sleep it was waiting for me.

But a few people helped me. And through an unknown miracle I found a place to live. Then I found a job.

During my search I met a woman recruiting for a business college. I went to her office. We filled out paperwork for financial aid. But I was too young to not include my parents income. They didn’t give me a penny at the time. But they made enough I couldn’t get help for school. There was the option of loans. But I didn’t want more debt. I had told myself no more student loans ever. But I broke the promise.

“I’ll worry about you,” she told me. “Clearly no one else does.”

This made me mad. Of course people worried about me. But none of them could save me. Not just none of them could bail me out with money. But I had to go through something and save myself. In a real way I took myself off the street. I did it. And I did it with little help from anyone.

My first days in Portland were dark. Not just the rain and the clouds. But I felt alone. And I was depressed most of the time. Sometimes people would talk to me. But I soon learned most of them were either selling me drugs or religion. The experiences I had on the streets in the bay area were not repeated in Portland. People were not friendly to me. The city felt cold, and I felt alone. I wasn’t sure I cared about living.

But it didn’t last forever. After a lot of luck and hard work I got myself started. Even if it did mean moving into a house with dogs. The owner of the dogs did nothing to train them. And the pooped and peed all over the place. But it was inside, and it was warm. And it no doubt helped me climb out of depression. And to climb out of the gutter.