Freedom of Choice

I'm a Facebook idiot.

It think it's too new a technology for my older mind. I can't understand it all all. It's a social network thing and it's supposed to keep you in touch with your friends, but I can't understand it for the life of me. I can't even seem to get to my 'wall' which seems to be important for reasons unknown to me. Here I am trying to be hip and learn something new, but no. I can't seem to get it together.

I've got all of these friend requests piling up and I don't know what the fuck to do with them. Answer them all? Then what happens? I can barely keep up with the friends I have now. It's maddening, and frustrating, and I can feel my tired old brain short circuiting. I know it's a useful tool but it's a tool that's kicking my royal ass.

Then there is the other...Myspace. What the fuck?? I'm totally blown away with that one. I set up a Myspace page and left it the fuck alone. I haven't been back to it since. And I thought I was the undefeatable genius when I conquered Blogger. I even go to Blogger Buster to learn new tricks in making and changing a blog, although I don't do shit to this one because it's just like I want it. I may add a widget or two, but I'll never fuck with it globally. I don't want to erase shit either. I have to back up my stuff too, so that I have an off site copy. You never know what can happen on Blogger itself. It's been years and everything in the computer world fails. Everything. Sooner or later.

I should know. I worked in the tech industry. I had a wonderful job in the tech industry. I was building up an impressive resume. I can go work for AT&T, VERIZON, any of these telecom companies with the experience that I have. I just don't want to. Those fuckers would kill me and I've grown to hate the technology. I want a job in the entertainment industry. Reading poetry, or something like that.

A JOB READING POETRY?? Yeah, that's right. College professors do it. Maybe I can become a tenured Fellowship Professor, or whatever it is called when you have experience on your side and not a degree. I have some experience in poetry. And in navigating Social Services. I wonder if I can get a college class teaching dealing with Social Services to social workers. I was suggested something like that. I just don't know how to go about it. I can also teach hardheadedness and endurance to the homeless. For all of those college kids who want to grow up to be homeless.

Well, I guess I'm not homeless anymore. I have been living under a roof of my own for something like....hmmmm, let me see...six months. OR seven. One or the other. That would constitute a home having person. If I backslide into homelessness again, well these things happen. That's one reason why I'm so cautious and fatalistic about my staying out. I know how easy it is to slip into the streets. It's not hard at all. You walk out the door of your house or apartment, like you've done a hundred million times, but this time, you don't go back. You don't return ever, and you don't go somewhere else. You just stay out on the street.

Do you know what's the first thing that you end up doing on the street? Well, if you don't have a car, you can't sleep in that. You head to a bus or train station. Yeah, that's where you go, especially in a big city, because they generally stay open late, and have a lot of waiting areas and seats where you can get some shut eye. I don't know what the train system is like in other cities, but in New York, if you have the money, you can go there and sleep in the subways during the winter months. But once it gets warm, you are non persona grata.

If there is a park nearby that is not patrolled by the blue things, cops, you can always go there and stretch out on benches, chairs, or even the grass, if you can do so and not be seen. For a year, I had the best apartment in New York. Right on Fifth Avenue and Fortieth street. The front of the New York Public Library. I actually miss those warm summer nights, under the scattering of the midnight stars and the whispering trees overhead. It was so peaceful that it was amazing. Absolutely amazing. And there was enough of us watching each other so robbery was at a minimum.

Yeah, that's right, Skeks would come by in the early morning and pick at out things. Bags that they could not steal they would open and take out their contents. They would even take our shoes and boots if we left them next to us unguarded. Do you know how humiliating it is walking around New York without shoes. I did it for a few days, when I wore out my shoes to such an extent that nails started to pierced through the soles to the bottom of my feet. It was more comfortable for me to walk through the city barefoot than to walk about in those fucking shoes.

Hmmmm, just an overview of the past, just in case you didn't read it in the blog.

Just an overview of life on the streets. A place that it is so easy to find yourself in...or returning to.

That's why I fret when they talk about my room, because I'm certain that that would be next, taking it away or dangling it over my head, as a threat. I don't trust anything to last. Not anymore. In this world, whatever can be given can also be taken away, remember that. That goes for your paycheck, your car, your house, anything that you didn't TAKE by force can be taken back from you once you stop following the rules. Or can no longer follow the rules.

Remember that.
And if you figure out Facebook, let me know.

Hobobob