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In September 2010, my home went into foreclosure.

In January 2011, I filed for bankruptcy.

In August 2011, the business I was working for (part-time--it never made it to full-time) shut down.

In October 2011, I couldn't forestall the bank any longer, and my house reverted to them.

In December 2011, I moved out of the home my mother had bought for us nearly 40 years before, and into a bedroom in the apartment of a friend of a friend.

My unemployment ran out, and the friend of a friend got ratted out for having a roommate.  When I had to leave there on February 17, 2012, I was able to stay at a friend's place while she was out of town.

Then she came back, and I had to leave.

On February 22, 2012, I spent my first night in a cold-weather homeless shelter.

(Read on below the orange squiggle.)

You might be wondering why my friend couldn't just take me in.  Two reasons: she's allergic to my cats and has enough health issues without adding that to the mix, and she was moving to the desert--which is not where I wanted to be.  She would have taken me in in a heartbeat, but it just wasn't possible.

Yes, I have other friends.  No, they couldn't take me in, either.  They have lives of their own, some have children, most couldn't cope with my pets for one reason or another--and frankly, many of them were close enough to being in the same boat that taking in someone who couldn't pay rent would have landed them in the bilge right along with me.

Also, yes, I was looking for work.  I'd been freelancing for several years, or trying to, living off what was supposed to have been my retirement account when I couldn't make ends meet, which was most of the time.  By the time I realized exactly what kind of hole I was in with my toxic mortgage, the job market and the financial industry were both taking their nose dive.  So I was looking for work that just wasn't there, and the market was taking more and more of my savings down with it.

I managed to make the May 2010 mortgage payment.  But I couldn't make June's.  In fact, I never made another mortgage payment.  Which, of course, is why I went into foreclosure.

And it killed me.  All I could think of was how disappointed my mother would have been at my not paying my debts--after all, she always had.

And yes, credit card debt played its part as well.  I'd made late payments on the only two cards I had, and wound up paying the maximum amount in interest.  You know the way it goes from there: the interest portion of the payment was so high, the principal wasn't dropping by much at all.

In August 2010, I started the part-time job I mentioned, but it really didn't become a paying proposition until late 2010.  But I managed to squeak out another payment or two on the credit cards.

Then I couldn't make those, either.

In December 2010, the bank notified me my house was going up for auction in January 2011.  I knew, I knew, that even if the part-time job turned full-time, or I got a second job, that with the amount of credit card debt I was carrying, there was no way I could qualify for a loan modification.  (Assuming the substitute trustee was willing to consider a modification, of which I had no guarantee.)

In a last-ditch effort to save my home, to give myself a fighting chance of being able to afford the payments if I could find enough work, I filed for bankruptcy in early January 2011.

The part-time job puttered along, never quite giving me enough hours per weeks for a long enough period to qualify as full-time and thus get benefits.  The bankruptcy puttered along, too: I was one of 1,410,653 bankruptcy filings in 2011, and that kind of backlog takes a while to plow through.  But I was granted a bankruptcy in June 2011.

The bank notified me almost immediately they were putting my house on the block.

In another last-ditch effort--and I was getting a little tired of all of them, because hey, I was a good person and I play by the rules and I paid my taxes and I didn't lie or cheat or steal, so when was I gonna get a break?--I worked with one of those entities that helps people legally forestall foreclosure.  July: a one-month reprieve!  August:  first a two-week reprieve, then a one-month!

I went to work on August 21 to open and discovered my key wouldn't work.  The business was dead, and my job was gone.  I filed for unemployment, hearing about all the extensions being granted, and dared to hope I could keep things afloat long enough to find another job.

I couldn't.  In October, my house went up for auction.  No one bid, so it reverted to the bank.  There followed two months of carrot-and-stick from the bank: cash for keys offer!  Notice to Quit!  Cash for keys counter!  Notice to Vacate!  Cash for keys counter-counter!  Notice of Intent to File for Eviction!

I moved my stuff into storage--I will spare you the story of the move from hell--and hied myself and my cats to a furnished bedroom.

Two weeks after I moved, my unemployment ran out, and I discovered that extensions don't happen if your "pool" is out of money...which mine was.  The cash-for-keys money lasted a while, but not as long as I'd hoped, and without the unemployment to supplement it, I found myself swallowing my pride and applying for general relief and food stamps.

That's right, Mitt.  I, formerly a solid middle-class citizen (in the real sense, not this $200K-a-year nonsense you've been spouting), was on public assistance.  I was, in your view, and the view of all those who "like" those stupid e-card things such as "Gee, that person on welfare with the iPhone needs to ask Siri how to find a job!", a leech, a drag on the economy, a deadbeat, a loafer, completely undeserving of help.

I moved out of the bedroom two months after I moved in.  Officially, I was homeless.  My soon-to-be-ex-landlady found out about a local shelter that allowed homeless people to bring their animals, so I went there and opened a case.  As part of the process, I had to go to a homeless services organization in a different part of town and get a statement of homelessness from them.

Talk about hard.  Hard to admit to anyone that I was homeless, that despite being cleaned up, having a new Android phone (my former land line, ported over so I wouldn't have to lose the number I'd had for 30 years, and that all my friends had) and an old laptop, I was on the dole and faced living out of my car.  I'm not ashamed to say I cried all over the desk of the very compassionate young man who gave me the form.

He gave me something else, too--the address of the cold-weather homeless shelter I went to a week later.

I spent a week, the last week of February this year, in that shelter.  In line by 7:00 PM, allowed in at 8:00, dinner at 8:30 or 9:00, and lights out at 10:00, sleeping on a cot with an itchy blanket that wasn't long enough to cover both my shoulders and my feet, not wide enough let me sleep on top of it and have enough to pull around me.

But it was a place to sleep, and a hot meal, and I was grateful to have it.

That first night, a couple of the other women told me about a women-only day refuge, a place where I could go and take a shower, do a load of laundry (if I got there soon enough) and get a bite to eat.  It was only open four days a week, but the next day I went, showered, did laundry...felt like a human.

I still had my car, so I could carry the necessities with me and save on the cost of driving back and forth to my storage for stuff.  The cats wound up at their vet's in what was supposed to be, intended to be, a merely temporary solution.

So much for good intentions.

During the last couple of days the shelter was open, volunteers from the local homeless services organization came to offer preliminary intakes to their program.  I still had the case open with the place where I could take my cats, but my case manager had no idea when a bed would open up there, so I went ahead and opened a case with the local service, too.

The morning after the shelter closed for the season, my friend went out of town again and let me stay at her place.  As before, I had to be gone when she came back, but she was leaving again on Sunday.  So I spent Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights sleeping in my car.

Not a very successful "experiment", since I only actually got any sleep on Friday night.  Thursday I tried to tough it out, staying in a 24-hour restaurant drinking coffee and looking for work on my laptop; when I finally admitted to myself I couldn't do it, went to my car and moved it to the darkest section of the parking lot and tried to sleep, I found I was so hyper-aware of every light, every sound, that I gave up about six AM.  Saturday night, got too hot curled up in my back seat doing my best imitation of a load of laundry, covered by a heavy flannel duvet cover and my comforter.  I wound up at the same 24-hour restaurant, grateful they'd let me sit there ordering nothing more that hot water for my tea.

Sunday, overflowing with gratitude, I went back to my friend's place.  She was coming back Wednesday afternoon, so I tried like hell to find a place to stay.  I heard about another women-only shelter--"Call exactly at 8:00 AM, that's the only time they do intakes, and it depends on whether they have any beds!"--kept trying them, but no soap.  Nothing from the place I could take my cats.  And I woke up Wednesday morning sick as a dog, found the weather report called for rain, and knew I just couldn't spend the night in my car again.

I just couldn't.  Well, I could have, but I didn't want to, dammit, I was sick, didn't need the extra stress, didn't have anywhere else to go.  So I called the place I'd found out about from the cold-weather shelter, the one I'd opened a case with a couple of weeks before, and begged for a bed.

They had one.  I've been there ever since, eight weeks as an overnighter (calling every weekday morning to see if I'd have a bed that night) and the rest of the time as an official resident.  And I have been SO grateful for a place to sleep, and a way to clean up, and a way to get laundry done (only three pieces a day, true, but between the shelter and the women's day refuge, I can keep up), and dinner every night, even if it tends to be carb-heavy.

Breakfast and lunch, too, if I'm on site, but the shelter opens to day clients at 7:00 AM every morning, and it's frankly demoralizing to sit and listen to some of the conversations.  To see people I know damned well ought to be under medical care--and/or mental health care--but who have nowhere else to go.  To discuss with my dorm mates how hard we're all looking for work (or how hard some of them are working to get their disability, or their SSI, which they deserve to get), what we'd like to do for housing when we get the chance.

How nice it will be to sleep until we actually need to get up, instead of being woken at 6:00 AM (7:00 on weekends and holidays!) by the fluorescent lights coming on a voice shouting, "Time to get up, ladies!  Time to get up!"  To be able to shower in the morning instead of having to do it at night, because mornings are for chores, and stay in if we want instead of having to leave an hour after lights on.  To be able to come home when we want, put our feet up, watch what we want on TV instead of the lowest common denominator, instead of not being able to go back up to the dorm until 7:00 PM.

Did I mention that one month after I officially became a resident at the shelter, my car was totaled?  One intersection away from the shelter?  Fortunately, it was 100% the other driver's fault, admitted in front of the nice motorcycle officer who stopped to offer assistance.  But still, no car.  Nowhere to leave stuff I might need during the day.  Nowhere to sleep if I lost my place in the shelter.

During this time, as part of the requirements to keep my food stamps and general relief (which I guess is what they're calling welfare in these parts), I've been through the county's jobs program Level 1; the job-search program run through the shelter; and the county's Level 2 program.  I've sent out, at minimum, 200 resumes this year, and it might be closer to 300.

I know there are people who will say I should have done twice that many, I should have applied to every single job I could find.  But I've also been told by employment development counselors that doing so can backfire, can cause a prospective employer to look at a resume and wonder why in hell this person is after thisjob since they don't match any of the qualifications or requirements.

In other words, it has the potential to be a huge waste of time and effort, and to be honest, dropping a resume into what might as well be a black hole is pretty demoralizing in its own right.

But it paid off.  I start a job in two weeks, I have a carpool to get to work, and I have a room to rent for a reasonable amount--and I can bring my cats!

Long story, I know.  But I'm not the only one going through it, Mitt.  I'm not the only middle-class person who's lost a job, who ran up bills and then couldn't find a way to pay them, who for one reason or many discovered what it's like to wind up in the safety net.

Without it, I'd be living on the street.

Hell, without it, I might be dead.  But I'm alive, and well--or well enough to get by on--and about to return to the part of the population who pays into the system.  And the places that helped me may only get $10 a month to start, but they'll get it, because I know what they've done for me.  They gave me the chance, and the emotional support, to find the right job at the right time.

And here you are, with your damned condescending 47% crap, just waiting for your chance to take a machete to the safety net.  Every photo I see of you, it's like you're salivating to do just that.

Not if I have anything to say about it, you won't.

I'm one of your 47%, and I am NOT a victim, NOT an entitlement junky, NOT waiting for my chance to stick it to Uncle Sam, and there are a lot more people like me around that you know about, or care about, if your recently come-to-light comments are any indication.

And I will succeed, because the government helped me when I needed it, and now I get my shot.

Stuff that in your pipe and smoke it, pal.

Originally posted to Syd of the Funny Hat on Wed Sep 19, 2012 at 01:03 PM PDT.

Also republished by Community Spotlight.

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Comment Preferences

  •  Damn, I'm glad your hat is funny, (23+ / 0-)

    because your story is sad.
    Good luck

    When you're born you get a ticket to the freak show. When you're born in America, you get a front row seat. George Carlin

    by Zwoof on Wed Sep 19, 2012 at 01:12:28 PM PDT

  •  Oh Syd of the Funny Hat. Cursing then crying (16+ / 0-)

    as I read your story...images of too many countless others experiencing same flooding my minds eye.

    More tears & a realization with this:

    And the places that helped me may only get $10 a month to start, but they'll get it, because I know what they've done for me.
    Most of your fellow humans are but a crisis away from what you've endured-whether they realize this or not.  

    Those of us who can must do what we can to strengthen one another; our society. You've provided one example how to do this-donation to shelters.  Beit "in kind" donations, bits of time or money.

    Safe harbors, Syd of the Funny Hat.  Safe harbors & unexpected joys.

  •  IMHO, the human stories (diaries) surfacing due to (15+ / 0-)

    Mr. Romney's remarks need to be compiled & sent to the White House & to Mr. Romney.  

    And made into a book.

  •  First of all, thank you for reading. (10+ / 0-)

    Second, thank you for your good wishes--they mean a lot to me.

    And the book idea?  Well, I'm blogging over on Wordpress as a way to accumulate material for just that: one middle-class person's long slide into the drink.  But I like the thought of collecting the personal diaries and sending them off to the powers that be--the more truth, the better.

  •  Willard and Ann (10+ / 0-)

    and all their like could never even imagine this:

    sleeping on a cot with an itchy blanket that wasn't long enough to cover both my shoulders and my feet, not wide enough let me sleep on top of it and have enough to pull around me.
  •  Ya should have borrowed from your rich parents! (9+ / 0-)

    The fact that you didn't means you're LAAAAAAZY...

    /snark

    having been in the shelters before, it ain't no picnic.  Course, I get sick of the mandatory lecture on saving my soul for jesus before meals, and the fact that your stuff is taken from you where it can be safely rifled for cash at the shelter staff's leisure.

    What drives me even crazier is how little it costs to just HELP people.  Far less than the heartache and misery that Mitt would bestow on us in order to give his buddies a few more million bucks.

    I don't blame Christians. I blame Stupid. Which sadly is a much more popular religion these days.

    by detroitmechworks on Wed Sep 19, 2012 at 05:58:27 PM PDT

  •  from a moocher that sponges off the government (13+ / 0-)

    ok I confess ... I get food stamps, and TANF (Temporary assistance for needy families) I am social security (disability) and SSI (Supplemental Security Income). I am on Section 8 Housing and I do not pay any income tax ... because I don't have a job.

    Well ... I don't want to be that way. I suffered a lot to get an education and as a single mother made my way through College to get my BSN (Nursing) thinking surely I will do make enough money to support myself and my son, as well as pay for good insurance to cover the expense of my prosthetic leg. I did not count on a pregnancy that had me out of work so I would not miscarry. after son number 2 I was going through a social hell and got re-married to a man who wanted me to stay home and raise the kids ... a long story and another 2 kids later I am homeless and pregnant with my 5th child and alone. With 4 kids and pregnant again I figured now I need to just have this baby and then try to go to work - but when the baby came he needed open heart surgery ...so at 5 months of age he had open heart surgery ... and I made a change in careers. Everyone was saying we need more teachers in the USA so ... to get the good money while tending for a very sick child I went to online school and got my masters degree in Education, Only to realize before I could actually work as a teacher I will have to go to another 2 full year of school to get the required certification (now I could have worked, gone to school and tried to raise 5 kids on my own ... but I really don't like to suffer and suicide this way would take entirely too long ...so ... I held off working until my education was complete.

    With only one semester left (I had went one full year (including summer school so I could complete it in less time) My now 3 year old was having some severe problems. He was running away from daycare and school. He could not handle things, and I found out he has Pervasive Developmental Delay (Under the Autism spectrum)

    sigh

    I couldn't finish my last teaching internship because my son really needed me. I moved ... to Florida - I couldn't afford it and moved with nothing trying to get the help I needed for my son.

    Ok so bottom line - I finally got my son a good Dr. who got my son on stabilizing meds that help him and got my certification to teach and I go looking for a job - so I can be a contributing member of society - being a biology teacher ... but no one is hiring new teachers now ...Cutbacks in the budget ... I applied for over 40 jobs locally - being willing to travel 1/2 hour radius from where I live (I finally found a school that won't send my youngest home from school) I got ONE interview for an honor's teaching position. But even at the interview - they did not think someone new to teaching could handle the high demands of the job. Maybe I just sucked in the interview - it was the first one I had had in over 14 years ... and the first one as a teacher ever.

    sigh

    So I am still trying but right now I can't walk because in June I broke my leg and can't walk with my prosthesis until I get a new socket made.

    I am sincerely sorry for being a mooch to society and not being worth the attention of a presidential candidate. I wish I could get the child support from the fathers of my children ... but they owe me and the state over $20,000 (250/month for 3 kids) I don't get any from my first ex-husband as he is jobless to and barely making it.

    I can take full responsibility for the poor choices I have made with my life - picking the wrong guy and such ... but sincerely I AM trying - I have no idea how I will pay off all my student loans - but without an education I could never have even tried to get off government help and stop being a worthless moocher.

    Hey guys in the government - could you stop cutting funds for education then maybe I could get a job and not be a moocher ... I seriously am trying ...

    •  Oh, my. This is also a story they need to hear. (5+ / 0-)

      Seriously, does dkos have any regulations against turning a comment into a post?  Because honestly, whatGodmade, this deserves to be seen by others.

      I'm not much the praying sort, but I'm sending you good thoughts that a truly workable solution makes itself known to you sooner rather than later.

      And ANYbody who calls you a moocher?  Send 'em over here and I'll wipe the smirk of their face (a comment I saw on another diary today).

      Take care.

  •  Best of luck, Syd. (9+ / 0-)

    I never fell off the edge like you did, but I've been damn close, and believe, me, i learned as a young man to squeeze a dime so tight, it would give me 11 cents change.

    However, a big repair bill on my van, a lost job, and a downturn in business drove me to the limit once. I crawled out by getting a part-time job unloading trucks, at 52 years old. I couldn't even fantasize about quitting, because I had no other choice.

    And you're so right. Mittens doesn't even know the meaning of the word "empathy". It comes naturally to some, others have to suffer themselves to get it. Some never will.

  •  We the People, ARE the Government (5+ / 0-)

    And I for one am very glad the safety net was there for you.  I only wish it was broader and stronger and so could have prevented the Great Recession in the first place and that you and millions of others would not have had to go through all this misery.  

    By the way, I consider the regulations, and well funded public agencies, and unions to be integral parts of the safety net. I'm ashamed that we've let the Republican propaganda machine bulldoze so much of what we've built.

    We're ALL better off when we're ALL better off!

    by susanWAstate on Wed Sep 19, 2012 at 07:20:37 PM PDT

  •  100% of us are the 47-Percenters (3+ / 0-)

    Literally. Yes, even Mitt. It goes like this.

    Certain levels of income are exempt from income taxes, period. If you're under that income level, you pay no taxes, end of story. If you're above that, you only pay taxes on the amount above that level.

    For me, that amount is $24,600 (three personal exemptions plus mortgage interest plus property taxes, roughly). If I make less than that, my tax bill is zero; more than that, and I only pay taxes on the money I make above that amount. But the fact remains -- I don't pay federal taxes at all on a generous part of my income.

    Now Mitt of course, will blow by my lower income level in less time than the average amount he spends on the pot taking a shit in a week, but the fact remains: there is an income level below which he pays no federal taxes. What is that level? Given his 100-million-dollar IRA, you can bet his individual level is well into seven figures.

    •  YES YES YES (2+ / 0-)
      Recommended by:
      Syd of the Funny Hat, No Exit

      This is how really to answer this 47% bullcrap. Everyone pays the same amount of taxes, given exceptions and deductions, on the first 20k or so of their income. What happens is that some people don't make any more than that. How lucky. It is a willful misrepresentation of the way a progressive taxation system works.

  •  good for you (6+ / 0-)

    I think not being with my cat would break me and as to mr entittled ass hat I don't realize just how many people he pissed off.

    Congratulations on your job and may this be the break you not only need but deserve

    peace

  •  Wow--Community spotlight! (5+ / 0-)

    At least on my browser--thanks, kossacks!

  •  I love this write up, reminds me of myself (3+ / 0-)

    I remember the first time I 'bathed' while living out of my car. It was at the Hinsdale Tollway Oasis on 294 in the Chicagoland area.

    I paid the toll because it was the only place I knew was going to be open at 2 in the morning and living out of your car, one tends to find esoteric places for basic necessities.

    I also once paid a parking attendant ten bucks to look the other way so I could park my car in a lot for the day so I could get some sleep.

    So your story resonated with me and I loved your passion when telling it.

    --Enlighten the people, generally, and tyranny and oppressions of body and mind will vanish like spirits at the dawn of day. - Thomas Jefferson--

    by idbecrazyif on Thu Sep 20, 2012 at 06:01:19 AM PDT

    •  See, even being homeless, (3+ / 0-)
      Recommended by:
      No Exit, ladybug53, Ahianne

      I wound up in a city that offered me some options not everyone has.  Monday through Thursday, I could shower at the women's day refuge.  The Saturday morning after my "successful" night sleeping in my car, I went to the homeless shelter as a "day client" to get a shower--opportunities for same offered for a couple of hours a day, seven days a week.  And if I hadn't been able to get into the shelter as an overnighter, my next plan was to call the church that had "hosted" the cold-weather shelter and asked if I could park in their gated parking lot overnight.

      They might have said no because of the liability, and I wouldn't have blamed them...but they might have said yes.

      If I'd rented a room in a different part of town, I don't know where I would have ended up when I became homeless.  There aren't many tollway oases in my neck of the woods, so I would probably have gone into a fast-food joint, bought a small soda, and tried to clean up in the ladies' room.

      I'd like to think I'd have stayed strong enough to cope.  But I don't know.  I just don't know.

  •  I'm tipping and rec'ing this diary (2+ / 0-)
    Recommended by:
    Syd of the Funny Hat, ladybug53

    because we need as many stories like it as possible told--and, believe me, there are a lot to chose from these days, my own included.

    Now, if you'd just give up  your cats :) you could find a more stable living situation, and things would work out better for you. (Sorry, don't you LOVE worthless condescending free advice??)

    I graduated from high school and college back in the 80s. This was the epoch I came of age in. What was happening during this time? The industrial base was disappearing and, with it, good jobs. These were jobs our parents and grandparents had taken for granted. I didn't think this really affected my picture.

    They told me that to "survive in today's economy," I had to be "an entrepreneur" and "flexible." But I didn't make the connection between this advice, and the demise of the working economy as we know it. These descriptors didn't necessarily apply to me (I thought there was something wrong with me--a lot wrong with me), and it's taken me a long while, into my 40s, to know myself enough to know where my strengths are, what actual contributions I can make, what I should be paid for. Rightly.

    But, in the livelihood I've trained for, there are no jobs. It's decimated. The next person who suggests that I should "get coaching in order to be better at job interviews," I am ready to plow in the face, several times for good measure. And I'm not a violent person.

    It's here they got the range/ and the machinery for change/ and it's here they got the spiritual thirst. --Leonard Cohen

    by karmsy on Thu Sep 20, 2012 at 07:44:29 AM PDT

    •  Thank you, karmsy (2+ / 0-)
      Recommended by:
      karmsy, ladybug53

      And you aren't the first person to suggest that I'd be better off...unencumbered...by the cats.  I know you're joking, but they weren't.

      There's quite the long story associated with the cats.  Maybe one day I'll tell it.  Suffice to say for the moment that they are an anchor for me, and have actually been part of what's nudged me along when I felt like giving up: I voluntarily took responsibility for them, and if I abandoned them, I couldn't face myself in the mirror.  I feel guilty enough about the ones I did give up.

      You're right in that the entire working landscape of America has changed in the last decades.  Even in my last full-time corporate job, at a financial services firm that was part of a 26K-employee "megabank", we were concerned that most of our functions would get outsourced to India.  Every time someone visited from headquarters, one of us (maybe mostly me, I got to where I didn't care anymore) would ask The Outsourcing Question...and the man from HQ (it was always a man) would never have a good answer for us.  It's one of the reasons I left: I didn't want to deal with the uncertainty.

      So I left, and tried to go freelance in a brand-new field that I'd been dabbling in for years.  Didn't realize how much I didn't know about running my own business, even though I was the only employee and my overhead consisted of my computer and a batch of red pencils.

      Damned 20/20 hindsight.  :)

      Do you use a chronological resume, or a skills-based format?  Maybe the latter will help you identify other professions/industries where you have some skill overlap, and can broaden your search base?  Apologies if this comes out "hlepy" (which is a word we use on another website, Making Light, to describe "helpful" comments/ideas that are anything but), but it helped me break out of some self-imposed constraints.

      Good luck, and thank you again.

      •  Interesting tip, thanks. (1+ / 0-)
        Recommended by:
        ladybug53

        I have a chronological resume (with my most pertinent experiences, the ones most interesting to employers in my present field, highlighted in the top section). Now, regarding my lengthy and fruitless job search, I'm trying to gain a sense of what fields--outside the one I'd originally chosen, and trained for--could use my skills and talents. I have had a long time, years of my adult life, in which to develop these, or become aware of them. I feel confident about about what I have to offer. I'm not just throwing things out: "Oh, yeah, I'm good at typing, and I always liked computers..." I know what I should be paid for. Rightly.

        It's here they got the range/ and the machinery for change/ and it's here they got the spiritual thirst. --Leonard Cohen

        by karmsy on Thu Sep 20, 2012 at 01:49:31 PM PDT

        [ Parent ]

  •  How did you lose the house your mother bought.. (0+ / 0-)

    for you?  Or am I not understanding something.

    •  Mom bought the house, (0+ / 0-)

      it passed to me when she died...and now it's gone.  From me, anyway.  The last time I went by, they (the bank, new owners, whoever) had torn out my iceberg roses, my mom's jade plant, taken off the screen door and replaced my door--if not the original door, then the one my grandfather put on not long after Mom and I moved in--with something that looks kinda cheap.

      Oh, well.

  •  best diary (1+ / 0-)
    Recommended by:
    Syd of the Funny Hat

    I was shaking with anger yesterday when I read this, still am. Mitt rMoney is such an asshole.

    My father was an illegal Mexican immigrant when I was born. When I was three, we decided he would become legal, so he had to go back to Mexico for the thee years during which the immigration process took place. My mother, brother, and I stayed in the US, living in a squalid apartment getting by on Welfare and food stamps. Once my father came back we became a familt of five on a minimum wage salary. We had medicaid , and I went to college on Pell grants and state and federal loans. Not having to worry about paying for college meant I could study my ass of, which led to me getting a doctorate degree at the second ranked university of my field.

    We have paid back in taxes all that we recieved. Me, the state is getting more than its money's worth for the investment it made.

     Fuck you Mitt Romney.

    Nobody wants to be a mooch or a leech. It is against human nature. We all want better things and we all want to work for them. Just look at what happens to a lot of lottery winners: they become depressed, throw their money away, and wish they had never won it.

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