Houseless Living: On Being Homeless - 5 Years Later - FAQs About Homelessness

Five years ago, Old Orchard Beach was run by a corrupt Mormon town manager (a member of my own church) who hired local Mormons (also members of my own church) to break into people's homes, trash property, set fire to houses, and many other terrible hate crimes.

A update on that: Mormon high priest town manager Jim Thomas, was run out of town and last I heard was on the run from the FBI, for embezzling $3million of town tax funds. The FBI investigation uncovered that fact that our town was the 4th town he had done this too, that this man was a crime lord and had a history of coming into a town, taking over, brutally driving out all families he perceived to be "not normal" or of "low income" and giving their stolen homes to his Mormon buddies which he would also give town office jobs. His mistake was in our town, counsel officers had to be voted in by the public, and ALL town counsel meetings had to be done on TV in front of a live audience and with town people in the room. In the end it was his firing all the voted officials and replacing them with Mormons from the Saco Ward of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, and his closed and lock door private counsel meetings that were his downfall and resulted in the investigation. We are a strange little town, famous for it's gun toting lobstermen, it's shot gun toting tourist shooting hermit like year round residents, it's 2 million annual almost nude beach bathing Quebec tourists, and being the "crazy highly superstitious Maine town" which inspired many of Stephen King's horrors about crazy Maine towns, and has seen several of King's movies filmed on location here. We are a tiny town 7 miles long and 2 miles wide and with less than 8,000 residents. Everybody in the town knows everything everybody else does, they don't like secrets, they don't like town officers who have secret meeting behind locked doors. It is now known that more than 40 families lost their homes and were made homeless as a result of this tyrant, and the destruction done to my family was far from being the worst or most violent. In more than 20 cases, families lost their homes via a bull dozer driving into their yard and literally driving over their house, all of these families lived on Walnut St, and in the empty lot where their homes once stood, now stands a huge condominium complex, not too unsimilar to the one Jim Thomas had planned to put on our land on Portland Ave. Some of the families regained their land and are no longer homeless, others are still homeless and are now wandering the streets of Portland and Biddeford. Needless to say Old Orchard Beach has a new town manager, and all of the Mormons which Thomas had bribed into office have been released without compensation and the voted in officers given back their jobs. Old Orchard Beach is back to being the quiet, sleepy little tourist resort town it was before Jim Thomas' arrival. However one new thing has come out of this: town wide a deep rooted suspicion of town managers, which has resulted in a new town manager every single year, since Jim Thomas, the towns' people don't want to take the chance of letting a man stay in office long enough to take over the town again.

Five years ago, driving a car was not considered an option for me.

Five years ago the only car I had was the Goldeneagle which had only 3 wheels and no transmission.

Five years ago, I had never been to school, I had been removed from public school at the age of 8 and any farther education was not considered an option for me, college was considered an impossible dream.

Five years ago my income was less than $200 a year.

Five years ago, I lived under a 8x6 plastic tarp.

Five years ago, I was told by a psychologist, who was set on court orders to investigate me in my homelessness, that due to my Autism, and the fact that I was 30 years old without any social skills or driver's training, that I would never be able to live on my own, never survive on my own, never be given a job, and never drive a car. I was considered severely handicapped as a result of my having Autism.

Five years ago my dad was in a coma, on full life support, and doctors had no hope of him ever waking up.

Today, I have and drive a 1992 Volvo 240. The addition of the car has opened more options to me and given me more freedom, and the addition of a driver's license has opened up the possibility of was way out of homelessness: a motorhome, which I am currently saving up for and hope to move into before winter arrives this year. I have not yet paid for it, so I can not yet move into it.

Today, I have a GED, am told I've broken records on college exams, and have an offer from Harvard to take their English Professor's program, provided I can come up with a way to get financial aid for the $52,000 a year program. Because I am homeless and have an income far less than $700 per month I am not currently eligible for ANY financial aid program, and my Autism makes grants and scholarships not an option. I am at the moment unable to accept Harvard's offer, but plan to do so, as soon as I can figure out how to come up with $52,000 a year for 8 years in a row.

While I have yet to get a permanent full-time job, I have been working part-time seasonal temp jobs at various places, in addition to having started a full time business online. My income is now monthly, what is was yearly and I am making $2,000 a year, 10x as much as I was making 5 years ago, and that number steadily, slowly and surly is rising every year.

My dad is out of the coma. He has shocked the doctors. They said he would not live. He did. They said he would not wake up. He did. They said he would be a vegetable. He wasn't. They said he would never walk. He does. They said he would spend the rest of his life needing a live in nurse. She was there one day and he has lived on his own ever since. Though homeless himself for nearly a year after leaving the hospital, he is now in an apartment.

The biggest change perhaps is I no longer live full-time in the tent-tarp-thing. While I am still there during the day time year-round, my summer nights are spent in the Volvo and my rainy day and winter nights are spent at my dad's apartment, and soon with the pending arrival of the motorhome, the tent will become a part of my past forever, and I will once again be in a house. Granted, a tiny 40 year old rusted house on wheels, but a house never the less. And I have proven, to the amazment of the nay-saying psychologist, that I am capable of living on my own, taking care of myself, supporting myself, and surviving with help from no one. I am no longer considered to be in need of "adult supervision".

In these past 5 years armies of psychologists have come and gone into my life. Most of them med students doing research on "the plight of homelessness". And not just local students, either. Because of the media attention which had surrounded my becoming homeless (resulting from the fact that I am a somewhat famous author and a celebrity, who had become homeless via a bizarre hate crime), my "plight" as they call it, attracted the attention of psychology students from all points of the globe. From Hawaii to Australia to UK and all places in between, I became the ant under a magnifying glass, for many psychology students, seeking to get "an inside look" at homelessness. I have thus been the subject of studies and interviews and essays and thesis's and research papers in colleges all across the world. This came about after in October of 2007, I put a request on my homepage website which said quite simply: "I don't know what to put on my bio. I need some questions to answer. Please if you read this, email me with your questions about anything and everything. Give me something to do, something to think about, something to write about myself. I can't think of anything to write in my profile bio."

I had no idea I had so many fans, so many readers, so many followers, or so many psychologists utterly fascinated with my life. Almost immediately the questions came, endless mountain of questions. Everything from "What is your favorite flavor ice cream" to "Do you believe in UFOs?" to "What is the meaning of life?" But something else I did not expect, also happened, people started writing to me asking for advice: from "My husband left me, I'm all alone, what can I do?" to "My baby died can you channel his spirit and tell him I love him?" to "Should I marry Jim or John?" Than there were the homeless people asking for advice on how to survive and the psychologists with their long, long letters explaining that they were seeking grants for research projects and needed to ask some homeless people a few question. I suddenly found myself swamped with thousands of emails coming in every day. I am years behind or reading and answering them all, and I do apologize to those whom have written to me and not received and answer, but you see, I just opened my inbox this morning and it says "You have 438,975 unread messages." Of course in the midst of all this there also came the hate mail, the accusations, and the naysayers. Oh well, such is life. I suppose I have given them a chance to get something off their chest and if it wasn't me they'd be yelling their anger at someone else.

In any case...this lens comes to you today, curtsey of the many psychology students who sent me these questions, which I am answering for you now. I have reprinted their questions here the same as they asked them to me. My answers here are the answers sent back to them.

Hate crimes. On May 9, 2006, vandals cut the water main pipes resulting in a massive and instant flood. (We live below sea level, just 100 yards off the Atlantic Ocean). We spent the summer rebuilding and on October 21, 2006 the vandals returned and burned everything that had survived the flood. What very little survived was put into storage, but on April 17, 2007 the same vandals broke into the storage unit and took a sledge hammer to everything inside, leaving nothing but shattered debris.

My family joined the ranks of what I am told are now called "The Working Homeless" on May 9, 2006. For us it was a flood. The flood left my dad in a coma for 2 months and in rehab for 6 months, he returned "home" to his car 8 months after the flood disabled, unable to work, and barely able to survive on disability checks. My mom ran off with another man. My 3 teenaged brothers got shipped off to relatives. I have Autism and was left as the only one "able" to work, yet no one will hire someone with Autism and in spite of the "EVERYONE" being required to have health insurance, I am not eligible for medical insurance or disability, due to the fact I have Autism. Multi-million dollars in medical bills due to the $30,000 a day cost of keeping my dad on life support while in the coma, resulted in my dad loosing his grandparent's' farm WHILE he was still in the coma in the hospital, and no hope in sight of ever having a way to live in a house again.

Another question from a psychology student. The full question read as:

"Due to your experience of homelessness, do you feel your physical well-being was affected? Please specify. (I define physical well-being as 'having a satisfactory health, absent form diseases or other unwanted conditions.'"

Yes, actually, as a result of drinking water from a brook for 3 years, my teeth/gums developed a horrendous infection requiring surgery, 2 root canals, 2 teeth pulled/replaced, and a 6 month long weekly "teeth scraping" to remove the corroded plaque. This from someone who spent their whole life with perfect teeth and not a single cavity. It cost over $4,000 to repair my gums and teeth (cash - as I have Autism and am not eligible for medical insurance and I refuse to panhandle or beg for money, I'm not looking for charity or help from others, I want to be able to support myself). I now drink bottled water and have developed a phobia of wading in brooks.

I had a stroke October 18, 2009. It effected my ability to walk, my eye sight, and erased large portions of my memory banks. It took 3 months for me to be able to walk unaided again. I am told my stroke was stress educed, homelessness and poor living conditions had contributed to it, and that harassment from church members (specifically the local bishop) had been the triggering factor. I was also told I had enough grounds to take the local congregation to court, however I am a Mormon who ACTUALLY OBEYS and FOLLOWS the teachings of the church as opposed to those who are Mormons in name only and therefor taking any one to court for any reason is out of the question as it is strictly against church teachings to do so...but than again so is violence, beating some one up, and breaking their legs...

August 2010 I was beaten while in church by one of the Relief Society women, resulting in a twisted arm, torn ligaments, horrendous bruising, and an inability to use my right arm for several weeks.

October 2010 a repeat of August 2010 resulted in a broken hip. This is the worst injury I received yet. I was hospitalized, unable to walk for several weeks, on pain medication for months, because I could not afford "regular" treatment I was given "second rate" treatment, resulting in the bone not be set properly, not healing properly, and now I have arthritis in my right hip as a result of wear on the joint caused by the injury and I've yet to be able to make a single payment on the skyrocketed hospital bills that were a result of this incident.

Did you try just asking them? Everyone needs different things at different times. Every one needs basic things to survive: food, water, sleep. But beyond that each person has different needs. A vegetarian homeless person would have very specific food needs. A diabetic homeless person probably needs help getting medical supplies. Teens have different needs than elderly. Disabled veterans have different needs than a mother with small children. A homeless person on their own has different needs than an almost identical person living in a tent city. A homeless person with a job has different needs than the one unemployed. You won't know what a specific person needs unless you ask them.

I have at your request written a list, but you know me, long winded and wordy type person that I am, it got too long and has been placed on it's own separate lens, please follow the link below to read this list...

Another question from a psychology student. The full question read as:

"Do you feel you emotional well-being was affected? Please outline how. (I define emotional well-being as "being emotionally healthy - being happy and content.')"

Yes, strangely I am much happier now than I was before becoming homeless. I know this sound weird. Before the flood we were a somewhat wealthy family. Poor by some standards, but we had more than most. The flood put my dad in a coma and thus put an end to the family's only income. We had money. We had things. Lots of them. We had waaaaay too many material things. My parents seemed to have put a lot of time, effort, money, and worry into material things, and it stressed them out, made them fight, made them unhappy, and made the whole family unhappy. But the flood took that all away.

Now I'm not saying it was easy. No, far from it. The first 3 years after the flood were the most trying and stressful years of my life. There were many days of not knowing how I'd survive. Lots of fear. Lots of terror. Lots of physical pain. Lots of emotional pain. Lots of mental anguish. Lots of hopelessness. Lots of hunger. Lots of cold days and freezing nights. Most days I was lucky to find a few scraps to eat, rare was a day that I got to eat an entire meal. The longest I went without food was 12 days in a row, and during that time I became terrified to sleep, out of the fear I'd die from starvation in my sleep. You don't know the true meaning of hunger pains until you go 12 days in a row without a crumb to eat.

I learned a lot those years. I learned who my true friends were. For it seems that to have friends, one requires money and material possessions. I lost all 3 at the same time, because without wealth or possessions, my friends had no use or time for me.

You find out quickly who your REAL friends are when one day you have a "normal" life and the next day you lose everything to a flood. People love you because of what you own, not because of who you are - once you become homeless you become friendless - without your possessions to attract people to you, you are on your own and all alone with not a single friend to talk to or turn to for help - that is the biggest lesson I learned during my time being homeless. When you have money and wealth and lots of material goods people flock to your side hoping to be your friend, but take those things away and those same people throw rocks at you, shoot you with paint ball guns, beat you up, break your hip, kill your pets, and make up horrible lies to ell about you to their friends. I know this because this is what happened to me. My friends, my family, my church, they were people I knew and trusted, some of them people I had known 20 or 30 years, they quickly turned into the worst back stabbing bastards, far worse than anything I could ever have imagined. Out of over 750 people I knew and trusted, only 1 remained by my side as a true friend through thick and thin: ONLY ONE PERSON OUT OF OVER SEVEN HUNDRED PEOPLE! This was the biggest lesson I learned while being homeless: You don't know how truly friendless you are until you lose all your material wealth.

But oddly, in the end of it all, looking back, I can see this as a very good learning experience. Before becoming homeless, I never gave homelessness and homeless people a second thought. I didn't avoid them or hate them, I simply just did not even think about them. When you don't need help; you just assume that there is help out there for people that need it. But than you become one of those people that need help, and it's a real eye opener, about just how little help there really is out there for them. It really amazed me, just how little help their really is for homeless people, and it took becoming homeless myself for me to learn that.

People tell me how I should feel. They say I should be sad, I should be infuriated, I should be bitter, I should want revenge, I should seek justice...some people go so far as to tell others that I DO feel those ways. But the fact is, I feel none of those emotions. I feel only peace. It's like I have reached some sort of point of enlightenment where I can just relax now and not worry about anything because I know deep down in side, that no matter what happens, everything is okay. I don't know how you describe it, it's not happiness or joy, it's beyond that. It's just complete total inner, emotional, spiritual peace.

Did you experience any effect on you spiritual well-being? (I define spiritual well-being as 'having a faith in a higher power, or yourself, which helps you to cope with problems you may encounter in life.')

Oh yes, very much. I learned that the church I grew up in, the church I loved and devoted 90% of my life too, was nothing but lies. A place filled with arrogant pompous people who talk a good talk and brag and boast of charity and helping others, but when faced with helping one of their own, they turned into a violent mob.

This I think was the biggest shock, the biggest eye opener of my becoming homeless.

It was not strangers who cut the water main pipes which flooded my home and made me homeless: it was members of my church.

It was not strangers who set fire my home and made me homeless: it was members of my church.

It was not strangers who destroyed my items in storage: it was members of my church.

It was not strangers who cut the head off one of my cats and left it on the front porch: it was members of my church.

It was not strangers who shot at me with paint ball guns: it was members of my church.

It was not strangers who threw rocks at me: it was members of my church.

It was not strangers who broke my hip: it was members of my church.

It was not strangers who stole my car and cut it in half: it was members of my church.

Everything they did, after they did it, they said it was okay for them to do it because "God told them too".

Shall I go on?

Yes, let's go on... let's talk about how these vicious vindictive, violent, hate filled warmongers went so far as to make up lies and rumors, building websites and writing 64 page letters and emails, telling how I was "a witch", how I "consorted with demons", how I was "a dog murderer", how I "sacrificed animals and babies", how I "put curses" on them, how I "killed a boy via casting a death spell"....the list goes on and on...

The end result, was that after a sum total of 260+ people (all of them members of my church and many of them relatives) sent these 10,000+ emails, and 4,000+ letters to 3,000 other church members, 16 bishops, 3 stake presidents, 70 quorum leaders, 12 apostles, and the prophet himself, I was excommunicated from my church, excommunicated on false charges of "witchcraft and apostasy".

Has my being homeless effected my spiritual outlook, you ask? Oh yes. It has thrown the blinders off and my eyes are now wide open to the reality of what it REALLY means to be a Christian and I want no part of it.

I'm not mean enough to be a Christian.

I'm not cruel enough to be a Christian.

I'm not bitter enough to be a Christian.

I'm not hate filled enough to be a Christian.

I'm not vindictive enough to be a Christian.

I don't believe in violence enough to be a Christian.

My God is NOT the hate filled, blood lusting, vindictive, evil, satanic God Christians follow. My God is NOT the God who tells Christians to hurt others.

My God is the God of love and peace, whom Jesus worshiped, not the God of hate and war, whom the Christians worship.

Throughout these past 5 years, church members have told me again and again the same words: "God is punishing you. You need to repent and return to the fold."

Punishing me for what?

Return? How can I return to something I never left to begin with?

Lies and false accusations. Rumors and gossip. Back biting and back stabbing. Violence and vandalism. Death and destruction. Brutality and force. Hate and perversion. Do they honestly call that a church? Do they honestly think their's are the actions of the chosen children of God? (Which is what they call themselves.)

I think they were right on one thing: God was behind this whole event, not to punish me, but rather to shear the sheep of that congregation and expose them for the wolves they truly are.

Today as a result of homelessness, I am the ordained minister of a non-denominational anti-church. It is a ministry. It is not a religion. It is not a church. It is a way of life. Like Jesus I am homeless, I have no building or congregation, and I preach not through preaching but through simply doing what Jesus would have done: helping those in need. I have become as Jesus described himself: A lily of the field.

In short, this whole thing brought me closer to God by showing me that there is more to God than going to church on Sunday. God doesn't need churches. God is not in a church. God is every where in everything.

Was homelessness your own decision, or was it inevitable? Why? Those are the exact words of the email's subject title. The message was sent to my by a college student doing research for a psychology class. Many of the questions I have chosen to use on this lens, came to me from college students doing psychology research.

Funny how many folk ask me if I choose to be homeless. I was surprised by this really. It seems to be one of the top 10 most asked questions directed to homeless people! Which I really found odd as, prior to my becoming homeless it never occurred to me that ANYONE would choose to live like this.

Even funnier are the folks who ask a variation of this by saying: "Why did you decide to become homeless?" They just walk right up to you and ask you this outright, with no idea how rude and insensitive they are being, but the fact remains, they genuinely BELIEVE that people who are homeless actually WANT to be homeless!

Not so funny however are the folks who scold: "You should be ashamed of yourself. Being a lazy, good for nothing homeless bum! How can you live with yourself? Why would anyone choose to live like this?" These people are the worst of all and they are also the ones who will walk up behind you and punch you in the back before shouting out their violently angry accusations at you.

These last people are bitter and angry, dangerous and hysterical and are not above breaking your arm or leg, as they feel well justified in doing so, and they well say as much adding in a final comment along the lines of: "I pay MY taxes."

What so paying your taxes gives you the right to break a homeless woman's hip? Oooh pleeeease! Get a life you nimrod! In fact, get a brain while you are at. It may surprise you to know I pay taxes too! Just because I don't have a house doesn't mean the IRS stops demanding tax forms from me! *Sheesh!*

Watch out for this last crowd. They have huge chips on their shoulders, mosterous egos, and bad grudges. They will not give you a chance to answer them and they will spend several minutes twisting your arm off while they preach to you such things as: "The American way" and "It's lazy trash like you who make the economy bad for the rest of us." and "I work my ass off to pay taxes to support shit like you."

To date every one who has done this to me has been a business man/woman in a suit, usually driving a Cadillac, Mercedes, or BMW, and ironically, every one of them was someone I knew from my church. I've never had a non-Mormon or a stranger talk to me like this. Interesting.

Beware the well dressed business men in $5,000 suits and $60,000 cars: these guys have got a major attitude problem and a bone to chew with everyone, and if they get into a fight with their boss or their wife, they are the most likely to drive down town and beat up a homeless person to vent their anger. Than they'll sit in church smiling on Sunday thinking no one saw what they did, no one knows, besides it was just a homeless person so who's going to care anyways, right? Do they think God only sees them on Sunday and closes his eyes the rest of the week? Well, in any case, avoid the guys like this, it's for your own safety. The more arrogant ad smug they are, the more they think they can hurt you and get away with it, so watch out and never trust a man in a suit! Let my broken hip and twisted arm be a lesson to you, so you don't end up with broken bones too! It's hard enough to be homeless without broken limbs!

But here's the thing: Every one good, bad, or ugly seems to be under the misconception that homeless people are homeless by choice! Like I had a chose when the flood came! Like I had a choice when vandals burned my house down!

I did not choose to become homeless.

I can tell you that for the first several years my goal was to get back into a house. It is not any more. See, my dad who was also made homeless at the same time, was living in his car, a 1994 Chevy Malabu with no inspection sticker and no registration because it was so much of a piece of junk and breaking down all the time that it would not pass any inspections. He has diabetes, needs dialysis for a kidney disorder, and has angina, and as a result of the coma could not walk for well over a year. He tried to get housing, HUD, Avesta, section 8, etc, etc, etc. He finally got put on a waiting list for a HUD housing voucher, and there were 600 other homeless families ahead of him on the list. Than came the coldest winter on record in Maine, with 3 blizzards back to back (totaling over 9 feet of snow) and the following ice storm, followed by a deep freeze which plummeted to -48F. I was still in the tent-thing and my dad was in his car a few blocks away, he ended up in the hospital again. The hospital assigned a social worker, who interviewed him, than me, and than every place we had applied to for help. The next day my dad was in an apartment, given a disability check, and on foodstamps. My dad remains there to this day: a farmer trapped in a tiny apartment in the inner city slums, next door to a bar room, were 2 rival gangs have weekly fights and shoot outs - he hates it, but he has no choice.

Me, because of my Autism and the fact that I'm a single female without children, I am still 5 years later told I am not eligible for any help, so I'm not even on a waiting list. The same social worker who helped my dad, signed me up for everything she could find: over 300 different programs both government and privately run. I was not eligible for any of them. If I'd been under 18, over 65, pregnant, a smoker, a drinker, on drugs, an unwed mother, a battered wife, or not had Autism, I would have been eligible for several of the programs.

But anyways, after 5 years being homeless, though I did not choose to become homeless, I have chosen to remain homeless, a rather recent decision on my part, because you see, while I spent these years with the goal of going back into a house, and most of that time I spent living under a tarp, the last couple of years were spent living in a car, a Volvo, which a few months ago was vandalized are ended us in the shop for 4 months, while being repaired...this during yet another of Maine's sub-zero winters, and due to it being -18F in February of 2011, I went to spend those 4 carless months at my dad's apartment.

Those few months in an apartment, waiting out the cold and waiting for my car to get put back together, I learned a very important thing about myself: I HATE being indoors. I HATE being in a house. I spent 5 years trying to get back into a house, and in those 5 years I had learned to LOVE not being in a house. The irony of it quite startled me.

Let me tell you a story...

My income is $2,000 per year, (yes, I'm living on $100 - $150 per month) I make that by selling photography on Zazzle.com. People ask me often, how I am able to survive. They also ask me often why I do not strive to be successful. Successful? I ask what they mean, and they say, "Well, don't you want more money?" Since when does more money = success? I have enough money to feed myself and my 12 cats. My clothes are the same ones I've worn for 20+ years. I have one pair of shoes and I only replace them when they wear out and that's only once every 3 or 4 years. I read books and watch DVDs (on my computer) that I get free from Inter-Library-Loan. All I buy is food and I don't buy much of that, so all I really buy is catfood and that's only $75 a month, so tell me WHY do I NEED more money than I make now?

I grew up here on this beach. In a house. Every year we'd sit by the road and watch the RVs (motorhomes) go by...row after row of dozens upon dozens of them. They say we get 2 million tourists here in Old Orchard Beach every year, with about half of them coming in RVs. I have seen A LOT of RVs in my life. My land is bordered on 3 sides by RV parks, one with 200 lots, one with 400 lots, and one with a whopping 725 lots. I spent 27 years of my life living with RV people all around me every day, all year long, but never once even considered the thought of myself become one of the RV folks that filled so much of my life. But than life happened.

As I mentioned earlier, I lost everything to a flood, than a fire, than a break-in, all 3 events man made and done by vandals. I was quite happy living in a house, or happy enough to not think of an option to it, so I had no plans to stop doing so, than one day there was no house. Lots of water. Lots of rubble. Lots of mud. But no house.

I lived in a "home made tent" (a 8x6 tarp thrown over a woodpile) for the next few years. Eventually got a car and lived in that instead, while still also living under the tarp-tent-thing. After 5 years of "homelessness", I moved into an apartment, and HATED being indoors. OMG! I had spent those 5 years with one goal: to get back inside a house, only to reach that goal and realize, I really, really, really HATED living indoors! So it was back to the land (which I still owned, but still had no house on it, where the tent-thing still stands to this very day) to try to figure out what to do next.

In my 5 years of "homelessness" I had learned to love living without a house. I learned to love cooking over a campfire. I learned to get up with the sun and sleep under the stars. I got used to my radio station being the ocean waves and the screaming seagulls and the singing songbirds. I had learned to love living without electricity, without running water, and without a toilet. I even got use to dealing with thunderstorms, hurricanes, and blizzards with only a 8x6 tarp for protection! Weird, I know, but that's what happened. I got so used to living off the land, that I couldn't fathom going back to house living which now feels like a confining prison to me.

The content of this lens was created by Wendy C. Allen compiled from posts on EK's Star Log, the official blog of author and artist Wendy C. Allen, a.k.a. EelKat. Reprinted here on Squidoo with permission.

EK's Star Log Copyright © Wendy C. Allen 2005-2010. EK's Star Log, Space Dock 13, The Twighlight Manor Press, Moonsnails, Buried Treasure, Copper Cockeral, and Xavier's Nest Copyright © Wendy C. Allen 2005-2010. Twighlight Manor, EelKat, White Rock Asylum, Planet Ptarmagin, Crystonite Chronicles, Etiole, Sir Roderic, The Swanzen Family, and all other related characters, info, writings, names, images, and content Copyright © Wendy C. Allen 1978-2010. Reuse of these names, characters, writings, and images are not allowed without prior authorization.

All content written and designed by Wendy C. Allen unless otherwise stated. No part of this site may be reproduced or transmitted without the express permission of the author. All rights reserved.