HOMELESS CHRONICLES IN TAMPA - THE LIEBSTER AWARD 2013

The Liebster Award is a legitimate award, and until last year, had never heard of it. I was first nominated in 2012 by Aaron Brinker who runs @dadblunders and as I read of the history of the award, I realized this is a serious thing and an honor. It’s an award given by bloggers to other up and coming bloggers as a way to recognize and promote their blog. Liebster is a German word meaning dearest, sweetest and beloved. How wonderful to be nominated, once again! Thank you so very much to Maggie at expat.brazil. I am honored.



The Rules: seem slightly different on various blogs but in general are

1. List 11 facts about yourself.

2. Answer the 11 questions given to you.

3. Ask 11 new questions for the bloggers you nominate for the award.

4. Choose up to 11 up-and-coming blogs to nominate.

5. Go to each blogger’s page and let them know about the award.

6. Thank the person who nominated you and link back to their blog.

So step 1. 11 facts about me

1. I was a professional violist for close to 30 years. I switched from violin at the age of 16-ish. I occasionally played the violin on gigs for money. Only when all the other violinists within the tri-state area had left or died was I called upon to do so. I hate the violin, but then, I hate Mozart. I love Beethoven. I love all good music, in any genre.

2. I was a computer software support engineer at IBM for 3 years and Verizon for 7. I also worked for the Gastonia, NC police department in the same capacity and continued to play at the same time. It's called multi-tasking, or “insanity.” I got into this line of work, when my 2^nd husband a violist, discovered that I didn't magically become a _______ player and got jealous when I got hired to play for the Moody Blues and he didn't.

3. I am legally blind and have been for about 10 years now. I also have Parkinson's Disease, or non-Parkinson's Disease, THAT is the question. It's hard to diagnose.

4. I own a viola that was made 10 years after Beethoven died, in 1837. The viola was made in Bologne, Italy and is of the Bolognese school of fiddle-making. Like all fine instruments, “his” appraiser named him. His name is “Wolf.” He has a hell of a sound and is by my bed.

5. I was homeless for about 11 months and spent that time living in a homeless shelter and was very annoying to my fellow homeless shelter mates. That is how this blog came to be. After I received my Disability, I moved across the street. I still see some of the people I lived with and new homeless people.

6. I've been committed for mental illness. I am bipolar and have Asperger (we used to say, “doesn't play well with others.”) I also cry over stupid stuff and laugh at stuff I probably shouldn't. I have a mordant sense of humor. They have a label and pill for that. I call it questionable taste. Sheesh. There's a pill for everything now.

7. I love cats. Cats and computers just seem natural. We've a wonderful little cat who adopted us. We had her fixed, and I came up with the name of “Butterscotch,” which is not very original. JC fed her so much she got fat, so I started calling her “Butterball” and “Butterfat,” and JC said I hurt her feelings. So, she's Mama.

8. I played in Opera Tampa here for 12 seasons with Maestro Anton Coppola, Nic Cage's, Great Grand-uncle and Francis Ford's Great Uncle. It's a small world, because in Detroit, Carmine Coppola, played flute in the orchestra I played in. Maestro Anton wrote operas and conducted Italian opera with no score. He recently retired at 98. His most memorable quote to us? “Anyone can play German opera, it's just 1, 2, 3, 4, but Italian opera? Rubato, rubato, rubato, it's all goddamned rubato!” He was great to work for. I left the Opera in 2009, due to the fact I couldn't fake it anymore. He retired last year. Apparently, he couldn't fake it anymore, either.

9. I'm an only child and never had kids. But I taught generations of them on the violin (even while not enjoying playing it, I am very enthusiastic about music; a teacher's role is to inspire. We're all self-taught, according to one of my viola professors.)

10. I was married 3 times and lived with a man who was one of the most irresponsible people I have ever met. Shame on me. I met the man I know I will be with for the rest of my life in the homeless shelter. Think on this if you will. I was homeless, had had a drinking problem, but stopped. The man I met in the shelter had been in prison. What are the odds of something durable working out?

11. JC, the love of my life, has seen me through my committal for mental illness, several hospitalizations for my PD and congestive heart failure and has steadfastly been there for me. He's patient and loving. My 3^rd husband was out looking for a new girlfriend the minute I was hospitalized with congestive heart failure. I had actually sworn off men, but the time I was in the homeless shelter. God had other plans.

So, the 11 random questions I would like to know.

1. Favourite Writer and why? This is like asking me who my favourite composer is. I love so many different writers and genres. Let me compare it as to music; Beethoven is so monumentally joyous and full of life, even as his life was tragic. Mahler was the opposite. Even his so-called happy music had tragic undertones. James Thurber, whom I read at the age of 11 is just flat-out funny. Harlan Ellison is funny, but there is a seething rage beneath his humor that is black indeed. I am currently back on Stephen King, after having read excerpts from his book 11/22/63, I purchased “Under the Dome.” He is still one of the finest technically perfect writers I've ever read and his imagination is without peer. But gee whiz, it is hard to choose. Harlan Ellison is probably the finest short story writer ever, and that has got to be the hardest form to master. Great question, Maggie!

2. Who is your best friend and why? Without a doubt, JC, the best, most honorable and most decent man I've ever known. Ex-con, or not. Which is laughable. The United States justice system has much to answer for. JC lost everything. Had a horrible childhood, loveless marriages and tried and worked so hard to care for his family. He had to quit school to help a shiftless, no-good step-daddy run a pig farm. Shades of John Steinbeck and Tennessee Williams. JC says he's dumb and practically illiterate next to me. So what? Book-learning was an advantage and a gift. I was a prodigy, but I couldn't see into people's hearts. He can and he's taught me much. He's beyond price and I love him unreasonably. He's never known true happiness, until now. I told him my mission in life was to make him happy, or make him miserable trying.

3. The genie has granted you three wishes, what are they? Genie grants everyone the ability to reason, empathize and show compassion.

4. Which historical figures would you love to have dinner with ? Ludwig van Beethoven

5. What couldn’t you live without? My viola, Wolf

6. What do you do for fun? Play Runescape and annoy people in chat rooms.

7. Favourite Quote? “Animals grace us with their presence.”

8. If money was no object where would you live and why? I would roam. I found out recently, that we may not be where we thought we were from. “Wallace” of Sir William Braveheart blah blah fame we can claim, but “Wallace” means “foreign” or “alien” in old Welsh. There is some argument (I don't believe there is much evidence) for our origins prior to Glasgow being from around the Caucausus or the Black Sea. Maybe we were Scythians or Cossacks; maybe even Neptunians. Scythians were known for red hair, fair skin and blue eyes. At any rate, before I lost my site, I rambled all over the place, and it wasn't always work related. Our whole family was like that. You said “car,” and family members were known to get up off of their death beds for a road trip. I miss it.

9. What’s your secret pleasure? *looks around* I have been known to have apoplexy and hysteria over TSG (The Smoking Gun's) “The World's Dumbest ________ “ When the recipe includes grade Z celebs like Tonya Harding, Todd Bridges, Leif Garrett, Danny Bonaduce, Chuck Nice (which really is an appropriate last name for him) et al., and show the bottom of the gene pool video clips doing the stupidest things they can think of, and then comment and re-enact with cheesy cut-outs and even cheesier comments and the cheesiest CGI ever, I'm down with that. You see, I have the Siren-song-of-crap gene! And damned proud of it, too! And if they're not on, I'll laugh at my own stupidness. Like the time I followed myself on my own blog!

10. Who do you admire and why? I thought about this for a long time and I keep coming back to someone who has been on the public stage for most of the time I've spent on this planet. Muhammad Ali. The courage he showed when he stood up to the establishment and stated that he would not fight a war that he had no stake in really shook people up. I believe that for the first time, people really started to question what our government's goals were in Viet Nam. At this point, I was already hearing my father every morning bitch about what an asshole Robert MacNamara was; I was about 9 years old at the time. When the news came out that Ali had his license stripped, my very prescient father, who was a naturalized citizen, out of Glasgow and had fought in WWII and flown B-29s in Korea watching, said, “people are going to start rebelling against this war; it's a bad war.” He was right. As Ali has aged, and he is now dealing with PD himself, his foundations and charities have taken up causes he espoused. Brotherhood for all mankind.

11. What superpower would you like to have? Not invisibility; it didn't work so well for that guy in the X-files episode. I'll settle for that one where you wrinkle your nose and the house cleans itself and your food cooks itself. I know that was a witch power, but all I can come up with are those lame Saturn Lad powers, like the bouncing thing, or stop time, like Clock Boy. Lame

My 11 Random Questions

1. Describe which musical instrument your personality most closely resembles and why.

2. The last time you did anything idiotic in public (assuming you did; not everyone is me) were you embarrassed, or did you just shrug it off? Feel free to provide details. Or not.

3. Name one thing about yourself that would surprise people.

4. Favorite genre of music?

5. Cinnamon or peppermint?

6. What are you reading right now?

7. What was your favorite stuffed toy as a kid? What was his/her name?

8. Who is your favorite author?

9. Who is your muse?

10. If you were to come back to life as an animal, which animal would you be?

   11.  Who is your best friend and why?

Just for fun, I listed my fellow Liebster Nominees; please feel free to visit their blogs and see their responses to the questions I answered. They are probably MUCH more entertaining than I am; remember, I am the Straight Man to the World.

Michael at nouveauscarecrow

DL Shackleford at dlshackleford.com 

Kelly Hartog at kelliforniadreaming

Jen at jeneralinsanity  

Tracy Kuhn at volvodiaries

Bigger on the inside

Liz Blackmore at littleboxofbooks 

lachodrom1

chuckallen

Sonia Rao at soniaraowrites 

sohelpmecats

Vikki at the-view-outside 

Carolyn at carolynpaulbranch

myriteofpassage

Mary A to Z

spudsdailyphoto

Lucy at lucysreality

rsativus

Jo at henderson-jo.blogspot

playwrightchick

haleyscomic

gigglingtruckerswife.blogspot.com

wanderboomer

And now, for my 11 choices. These are all based on blogs that have changed me in some way, given me new insight into ways we relate with one another, ideals to strive for, inspiration for when I was just so damned low and just plain funny blogs. These are also in no particular order, either. Again, Maggie, thank you so much. You rock!

1. Tim Peacock @ http://www.peacock-panache.com/

2. Andi-Roo @ http://www.theworld4realz.com/

3. Gina Valley @ http://ginavalley.com/

4. Kristen Dyrr @ http://kristenhead.blogspot.com/

5. Aaron Brinker @ http://www.dadblunders.com/

6. Amberr Meadows @ http://www.amberrisme.com/

7. MBOK @ http://mybrainonkids.net/

8. Lynnette Conroy @ http://rantravewrite.com/author/rantravewrite/

9. Lottie Nevin @ http://lottienevin.com/

10. Intricate Knot @ http://intricateknot.wordpress.com/

11. Alberta Ross @ http://www.albertaross.co.uk/

12. YumaBev @ http://parkinsonshumor.blogspot.com/ * Yes, I picked a 12th. I know it's a rule-breaker, but Bev is special to us all. She's a winner at life and after having DBS (deep brain stimulation) for her PD this year, she is TODAY having surgery for breast cancer. Please pray to Zeus or Allah or God or whomever you pray to for her!

I probably chose some people who have more established blogs, and more followers and I didn't get to list as many blogs as I would so much love to be able to do. I don't want to make this post any longer than I already have, but a funny thing happened on my way to disaster and my subsequent U-turn. I learned how to live again, with meaning this time. You all helped and I thank you.

#ROW 80 POST 2 - HOMELESS CHRONICLES IN TAMPA – HOMELESS CHIC

Me cooking. With paper towels under my arm. What you don't see are the other 40 people trying to cook. The paper towels are mind and if I put them down, all the vultures descend on them. JC took this as he ran through the kitchen. This is one of the less chaotic moments. Note the Farmer John Ensemble.

Every now and then, JC and I will remember some odd thing or another that reminds us of living in the homeless shelter and it's usually amusing. Think of it as high school where everyone rode the short bus, even the popular and bright kids. Most of the students are either in their jammies, some with feeties, but a few of us are in the usual bag-lady or bag-man wear, flannel pants, with saggy knees, shapeless day-glo, colorful and eye-watering t-shirts, with sayings like “Go Carolina Panthers!” or “I Heart Savannah,” none of the sayings have anything to do with Tampa, or anything anyone cares about.

Our feet are generally shod in lovely Crocs in even more eye-watering and raucously hued colors; they're pretty much the pariahs of the shoe world and look, smell and feel like giant pencil erasers on your feet. An added bonus is that they don't “breathe,” so that you can smell with ease, the feet of anyone who bathes once a decade or has hydrophobia. Mine are bright pink. They look atrocious coupled with the aqua track-suit a “friend” (I say that with irony, she is a dear, dear friend) sent to me. Being homeless, I am never one to look a white elephant in the mouth.

Boy Howdy, these are some of the damn ugliest things I've ever seen and worn. They feel like a cross between bubble-gum and erasers and even if you bathe every day, they start to emanate a lovely dirty-feet smell. There was one guy at the shelter who you could smell in the NEXT room in his crocs. Plus, when they get weathered, they just fade and look vague. If you have to look ugly, stand up and be proud! Don't just be ugly-ish.

When I first was placed in the shelter, I showed up with a walker, was clad in 3 hospital gowns, and had 2 garbage bags full of castoffs from the physical therapy center I had been in for the prior 5 weeks. Which is great when you think about it. Shit that even the dotty old bats won't wear. How great can that look? After an arduous 45 minutes spent getting up 3 stairs, I rested for a while and then got settled in.

Of course, I can liken all of this to gaming and game theory, decision trees and all. No one tells you anything and you have no idea of what to do next to get out of this new situation of homeless and become unhomeless. I hear vague references about going to “Homeless Recovery,” and “applying for Disability,” but beyond that, I have not clue one. After about a month of hiding in my room, I finally ventured out and went to Homeless Recovery, to do whatever I was supposed to do; I still didn't know. I only knew I was supposed to be there by 5 am.

I have to go on this here questy-quest. On top of being all fuzzy, I don't have the user's guide or any cheats and don't know what to do. It's called "Homeless Recovery." I hate when that happens. Better get to it!

It was shortly after the New Year. I waited for a bus that never came and then walked about 6 blocks. In the dark. In the cold. In one of the worst neighborhoods in the United States. What was I thinking? I was thinking about how fucking cold it was; I didn't have a coat, just a hospital blanket purloined from the hospital where I'd had a recent 2-month stay. I actually had a whole wardrobe of hospital-related stuff. Those lovely socks with treads front and back, in colors that don't exist in nature. Several hospital gowns, with shapes. Rhomboids, triangles, squares, stars, etc. If there's ever a shape-recognition test, I'm prepared. I have several barf trays and bath buckets. Anyway, I had only taken one blanket with me. I knew I had a long way to go and I wanted to travel light; what the hell was I thinking?

The colors I have are not nearly so tasteful. They're neon, like the Crocs. I used to wear colors that deliberately clashed. No one gave a shit, or else they were too drugged to notice.

I was wearing a pair of jeans that were way too big, so like Daisy Mae Clampett, I had a piece of rope tying two of the belt loops together so the suckers would stay up, around my non-existent hips and ass. I forget what I was wearing on my upper part. Some shapeless t-shirt and many sweatshirts that had seen better eras, probably the Eisenhower years. All topped off with my charming white hospital blanket, swathed like T.E. Lawrence, on my way to the unknown.

Forty-five minutes later, huffing and puffing, having dodged the hobos (“Be Kind, Don't Set Me On Fire,” read one sign propped against a sleeping bundle of rags by the underpass) and the gangstas and hos, who don't get much in the way of penniless, disabled folk; I got more “Bless you, sisters” from them, than I would in any church, I found the fabled Homeless Recovery. It was 19 F by the Bank sign. Fuck me, this is Tampa. I had had to stop and rest several times, only recently learning to walk again.

There were already 8 people ahead of me. I got my number and leaned up against the building and slowly slid over to atilt to one side, all the way to the ground. Alist, like a ship. Timberrrrr! Like a tree. I had just run out of steam. I couldn't help it; I started to giggle, the other 8 people goggled at me, and then they started to laugh. We all laughed. I laughed until the tears flowed. I knew what I looked like. Jesus. On top of my wearing my lovely ensemble, I had lost so much weight, my hair had fallen out and you could see scalp through my short 3 or 4 hairs, I seemingly had left. With my Lawrence of Arabia blanket, Ellie Mae jeans and horrible worn-out sweatshirts, I'm sure I was making the latest fashion statement in Homeless Chic.

After my appointment with my social worker who gave me a list of items and tasks to complete, I shlepped myself back to the homeless shelter. No one ever batted an eye, for the most part at anything people wore or did. One girl went to our annual Gasparilla Festival (where the Pirates take over and sack Tampa, yes, for real) in her pajamas. I can't really say much, since, she gave me a black thing with a waist tie. I wore it all over the place; the supermarket, the doctor's offices, on outings for a couple of months and then someone told me it was a bathrobe. Oops. Oh well, it was warm. I digress.

The infamous #2 Bus on Nebraska Avenue (okay, it's the Lowry Park Zoo; same difference, except the Zoo inhabitants have better manners)

On the day I went to Homeless Recovery, I had one other place to go. I had no ID, so my social worker gave me a referral to go to this place called “The Shoppe,” and I had to take the famous #2 bus, which is probably the most notorious of the HARTline buses. It runs up and down Nebraska Avenue, which is the center of the world of Homeless. You never know what is going to be on the bus, and you can either join in the mayhem or tune out. I always join in. Well, my initiation consisted of me getting to my stop and in my rush to get off, the bus driver stopped me with this: “Hey, lady! You dropped your... er, uh... cape.” Referring to my lovely hospital blanket that was laying in the aisle. No one batted an eye. I had arrived. Just one more routine bizarro, like the guy who plays golf, riding the bus in his cute little togs, with his clubs, with all the 'bangers and the hos. Oh yeah, he lived in my homeless shelter, too, and is still over there and still playing golf and riding the bus. I'm still wondering about him.

Blogging from A to Z April Challenge: It's Not Over Until It's Over! Time to Reflect

Blogging from A to Z April Challenge: It's Not Over Until It's Over! Time to Reflect

At times I felt hamstrung as I am a blatherer and I digress all over the place and usually get back to the point. Yet, this was a completely, hopelessly, deliriously wonderful experience and one I hope to repeat next year!

I started with a list of words and consistently changed them at the last minute. I've always lived recklessly, dangerously and write the same way, as well. I am the Nic Cage of blogging (sort of.) I'm not afraid to tell people that I've been committed and yes, I do have little "visitors" from time to time. I am not quite right in the head, but my heart is right. That's all that counts. Arlee, Damyanti, and all of the other co-hosts, thank you so much for this opportunity to share and write in a new venue.

As I start a new journey into the unknown, clinical trials for Young Onsets Parkinson's Disease, I hope to become a tad less elusive and a bit more user-friendly. Life in general makes everything harder right now and your understanding and kindness has been astounding. Thanks again for a newbie.