Two weeks have elapsed since the initial matriculation into the Sand Island homeless shelter. The original feelings of despair have subsided. Now, a subdued elation has superceded the latter. A feeling of freedom, true freedom, has come to the forefront. So much so that the original priority of finding "permanent" senior citizen housing has been sublimated. Fuck it!
There are numerous inconveniences associated with homeless shelter living ... the tiny "guest" cell, the long walk to the communal bathrooms, the need to store possessions in the homeless motorhome, the noise from the adjacent shipping ports. Yet, none of those inconveniences have detracted from the elation of perceived freedom. Fuck it!
The Sand Island facility is the "four-star" homeless shelter on the island, although people on the outside would find the environment totally dismal, almost pitifully laughable. Yet, the humble campus begets individual humility.
Humility has been a core byproduct of the whole experience. Becoming a documented homeless person is the equivalent of a public declaration of extremely poverty and full exposure as a member of the lowest caste of society. In that respect, the objective has been met.
There is, of course, now the possibility that expedited housing placement will occur. Such a prospect has generated much anxiety and melancholia. The return to the dreadful existence of the rank-and-file is, and has always been, unacceptable. Fuck it!
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