11/20/07
Perhaps you heard about the threat of violence made to Towson University yesterday. The threat was announced in the local news on Sunday night and applied to a specific building on the following day. After hearing the news broadcast I wondered why they didn't issue any advice to the students for the day. The 25k university population were left to fend for themselves.
Although the threat was specific to a certain building, I do not trust police officers or FBi or anyone else for that matter to keep me safe and hopefully you don't either.
One student, afraid to miss her classes in that bldg. chose to attend. In the middle of a quiz she broke down crying and had to leave out of fear for her life. I thought about what I deal with daily in my bldg. and in Baltimore. The knowing that I'm not safe in my home or on the streets is enough to make anyone cry.
I don't know about you, but I'm glad I stayed off campus yesterday. I'm pleased to say that the "terrorist" did not follow through on his/her threats and no one was hurt.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
"MY AGGRESSIVE HOUSING SEARCH"
My search for a better and normal life is still 24/7. I had a bit of an epiphany at the end of August regarding the dating chatline. The one that I mentioned in an earlier post.
The Social Security Administration awards anywhere from 200 to 700 a month if you are on disability and then rules:
"Go live on this. Don't break any rules, and don't accept any other jobs."
When I first won disability my friend Dan warned me: "Elana, don't work for at least 2 years or you might lose your benefits. Don't take any chances" I had been working for a Waldorf inspired preschool and my boss wanted me to continue, but it was too risky for me to work. This "no work" rule, did to some degree , contribute to my 2001 through 2005 episodes of homelessness.
Anyhow, you know from a previous post that I talk on a telephone chatline. Many of the guys know that I'm looking for a barter situation of some sort or another and that I
"Gotta get outta section 8 before I become another statistic."
Backtrack. In December 2004, got notification that my name came to the top of the list for an Indiana subsidized apt. I was due to be out of town for a meeting the authorities wanted me to attend. I asked them if I should cancel the trip. They said "No, we will have your apt. for you when you get back" When I got back they said they gave my apt. away!
In May, 2005 I got notification that my name came up on the wait list of a private section 8 complex in Baltimore. I didn't qualify for any subsidized housing in Indiana but one. I had applied at 10 of them, but was denied at all of them due to bad credit. I had no money to get back to the East Coast to take the apt. and was desperate to accept the apt., convinced that this was my ticket to a better life; up and out of poverty.
What am I going to do? I had been talking to Johnny on the chatline for months. He lives in Baltimore and hates to travel. I told him of my predicament. He's pretty socially progressive and knew I was desperate. He essentially flew 750 miles for a virtual stranger! He was kind enough to help me pay for the drive back to Baltimore. If it wasn't for him, I'd still be in Indiana and without a subsidy.
Hmmm. There are certainly more men willing to help "Damsels in Distress" then there are women. So, why not tell the guys on the chatline of my predicament? I've gotten some very colorful offers indeed. Mostly, men like the fantasy of living with a woman, but don't usually follow through. I'm trying to get enough money together to rent a car for a day so I can go look at a room for barter in PA; one of the guys from the chatline. (who doesn't do computers) I'd have to clean the house and keep this guys mother company (who lives with him. He'll share his car with me so I can job hunt. He's a definite hillbilly with a shotgun and a mother who doesn't believe in electric washing machines. At my request, he says he'll keep the shotgun locked up, so I'll feel safer. Many domestic shootings happen in a way that gun owners never anticipated, in part because of unlocked guns. (see maha.org that stands for Marylanders Against Handgun Abuse)
The fact that this guy is willing to share his car is the "carrot on the end of the stick" here. You know the prime reason my circumstances are so dismal is because I have no reliable car.
Wish me luck. Looking for a place to live is costly , especially because I'm looking out of state. By the way, my friend Johnny, the one who transported me from Indiana to Maryland, in 2005; now has his own website:
www.marylandonmymind.com
The Social Security Administration awards anywhere from 200 to 700 a month if you are on disability and then rules:
"Go live on this. Don't break any rules, and don't accept any other jobs."
When I first won disability my friend Dan warned me: "Elana, don't work for at least 2 years or you might lose your benefits. Don't take any chances" I had been working for a Waldorf inspired preschool and my boss wanted me to continue, but it was too risky for me to work. This "no work" rule, did to some degree , contribute to my 2001 through 2005 episodes of homelessness.
Anyhow, you know from a previous post that I talk on a telephone chatline. Many of the guys know that I'm looking for a barter situation of some sort or another and that I
"Gotta get outta section 8 before I become another statistic."
Backtrack. In December 2004, got notification that my name came to the top of the list for an Indiana subsidized apt. I was due to be out of town for a meeting the authorities wanted me to attend. I asked them if I should cancel the trip. They said "No, we will have your apt. for you when you get back" When I got back they said they gave my apt. away!
In May, 2005 I got notification that my name came up on the wait list of a private section 8 complex in Baltimore. I didn't qualify for any subsidized housing in Indiana but one. I had applied at 10 of them, but was denied at all of them due to bad credit. I had no money to get back to the East Coast to take the apt. and was desperate to accept the apt., convinced that this was my ticket to a better life; up and out of poverty.
What am I going to do? I had been talking to Johnny on the chatline for months. He lives in Baltimore and hates to travel. I told him of my predicament. He's pretty socially progressive and knew I was desperate. He essentially flew 750 miles for a virtual stranger! He was kind enough to help me pay for the drive back to Baltimore. If it wasn't for him, I'd still be in Indiana and without a subsidy.
Hmmm. There are certainly more men willing to help "Damsels in Distress" then there are women. So, why not tell the guys on the chatline of my predicament? I've gotten some very colorful offers indeed. Mostly, men like the fantasy of living with a woman, but don't usually follow through. I'm trying to get enough money together to rent a car for a day so I can go look at a room for barter in PA; one of the guys from the chatline. (who doesn't do computers) I'd have to clean the house and keep this guys mother company (who lives with him. He'll share his car with me so I can job hunt. He's a definite hillbilly with a shotgun and a mother who doesn't believe in electric washing machines. At my request, he says he'll keep the shotgun locked up, so I'll feel safer. Many domestic shootings happen in a way that gun owners never anticipated, in part because of unlocked guns. (see maha.org that stands for Marylanders Against Handgun Abuse)
The fact that this guy is willing to share his car is the "carrot on the end of the stick" here. You know the prime reason my circumstances are so dismal is because I have no reliable car.
Wish me luck. Looking for a place to live is costly , especially because I'm looking out of state. By the way, my friend Johnny, the one who transported me from Indiana to Maryland, in 2005; now has his own website:
www.marylandonmymind.com
"RUDE ASS SOCIETY"
It is so draining to leave the house in Baltimore.
In fact on the news recently, Baltimore was voted as having the most rageful drivers in America. That's been my experience too both when I had a car, as well as observing how drivers treat peds. As I think I've told you before, a ped. is hit every 4 hours in Baltimore. That's one aspect of our rude ass society, and here's another:
"RUDE ASS SOCIETY/THE CURSE OF THE MOP AND BROOM"
I must have magnets throughout my body that only attract brooms, mops and dustpans in all restaurants and coffee shops! Today, I arrived at Bagel-O @ 5:05 p.m. I put my belongings down @ a good table, walk over to buy my coffee and when I return, there is a broom and dustpan propped up against my table. I stand there for about 4 minutes waiting to see if "broom man" will "sweep under my feet" (Some women wait to be swept off their feet while I get swept UNDER my feet on a daily basis!) Broom man doesn't return but I can't relax so I change tables.
Broom man starts sweeping. Will he come sweep under my feet @ my new table? I wonder. He's scanning me right now...I remain braced to change tables suddenly.
Yesterday, I ate lunch @ Sun Yoo's deli. There are about 20 tables there and only 3 are occupied. The instant I sit down to wait for my salmon burger, the owner squeezes between my table and the empty table next to me. He turns so his ass is in my face. He bends over and starts chalking the day's specials on the portable chalkboard that he has laid on the table next to mine. He doesn't say: "Pardon me or I hope you don't mind if I...." or anything of the sort. He acts as though I'm invisible. Then it gets worse. He moves the chalkboard so it's half on my table and 1/2 on the table next to mine. He's facing me now (still like I'm invisible) bent over chalking and has essentially barricaded me in. His wife calls my number and initially, I can't get out to get my food!
He finally lets me out , I get my food and he goes back to "ass in my face" position! He is like this for 1/2 of my meal.
Sunday, @ Bagelo they start mopping and I had to leave because I can't handle the chemicals. I was talking with a fellow customer when the mopping began and I said: "I have to leave becuase the chemicals make me sick, do you want to go across the street to Marty's Pizza?" "Sure , he said."
We walk across the street to Marty's pizza and I choose a seat far away from the t.v. (T.V.'s in bars and restaurants are a serious pet peeve of mine, largely because they make it hard for me to hear whomever I'm with) I take 3 bites of my slice of pizza and an employee starts mopping. "Oh no" I said to my acquaintance. The owner yelled across the store to a customer in seriously broken English. (he's from Greece) I did not know what he said, or who he was talking to. My acquaintance said: "He wants us to go sit under the t.v. so he can mop!
I DON'T THINK SO.
In fact on the news recently, Baltimore was voted as having the most rageful drivers in America. That's been my experience too both when I had a car, as well as observing how drivers treat peds. As I think I've told you before, a ped. is hit every 4 hours in Baltimore. That's one aspect of our rude ass society, and here's another:
"RUDE ASS SOCIETY/THE CURSE OF THE MOP AND BROOM"
I must have magnets throughout my body that only attract brooms, mops and dustpans in all restaurants and coffee shops! Today, I arrived at Bagel-O @ 5:05 p.m. I put my belongings down @ a good table, walk over to buy my coffee and when I return, there is a broom and dustpan propped up against my table. I stand there for about 4 minutes waiting to see if "broom man" will "sweep under my feet" (Some women wait to be swept off their feet while I get swept UNDER my feet on a daily basis!) Broom man doesn't return but I can't relax so I change tables.
Broom man starts sweeping. Will he come sweep under my feet @ my new table? I wonder. He's scanning me right now...I remain braced to change tables suddenly.
Yesterday, I ate lunch @ Sun Yoo's deli. There are about 20 tables there and only 3 are occupied. The instant I sit down to wait for my salmon burger, the owner squeezes between my table and the empty table next to me. He turns so his ass is in my face. He bends over and starts chalking the day's specials on the portable chalkboard that he has laid on the table next to mine. He doesn't say: "Pardon me or I hope you don't mind if I...." or anything of the sort. He acts as though I'm invisible. Then it gets worse. He moves the chalkboard so it's half on my table and 1/2 on the table next to mine. He's facing me now (still like I'm invisible) bent over chalking and has essentially barricaded me in. His wife calls my number and initially, I can't get out to get my food!
He finally lets me out , I get my food and he goes back to "ass in my face" position! He is like this for 1/2 of my meal.
Sunday, @ Bagelo they start mopping and I had to leave because I can't handle the chemicals. I was talking with a fellow customer when the mopping began and I said: "I have to leave becuase the chemicals make me sick, do you want to go across the street to Marty's Pizza?" "Sure , he said."
We walk across the street to Marty's pizza and I choose a seat far away from the t.v. (T.V.'s in bars and restaurants are a serious pet peeve of mine, largely because they make it hard for me to hear whomever I'm with) I take 3 bites of my slice of pizza and an employee starts mopping. "Oh no" I said to my acquaintance. The owner yelled across the store to a customer in seriously broken English. (he's from Greece) I did not know what he said, or who he was talking to. My acquaintance said: "He wants us to go sit under the t.v. so he can mop!
I DON'T THINK SO.
"THE MRI RESULTS HAVE COME IN"
An MRI of my neck and head had been ordered to rule out any lesions on my spine. My goal is to find out why I have nerve damage, get a diagnosis, and find out what I can expect for my future. There is no lesion, that's good news.
But the MRI shows arthritis in my neck. Well, that explains the debilitating pain at least. In a week, I have another nerve test. It's so ironic that you have to become "dirt poor" before you qualify for decent health insurance in this country. And it's even more ironic that if you go back to work, you risk losing your Medicare and Medicaid.
I'm taking a multi vitamin daily, as that certainly can't hurt. I have crushing headaches that leave me bedridden sometimes for a week at a time. The MRI of the head shows no abnormalities. I believe chiropractic care would help, but insurance doesn't cover it, and my chiropractor is not on a bus route. I am a huge believer in chiropractic. Hmmm. I should buy some feverfew caplets and see if that helps prevent migraines or not.
But the MRI shows arthritis in my neck. Well, that explains the debilitating pain at least. In a week, I have another nerve test. It's so ironic that you have to become "dirt poor" before you qualify for decent health insurance in this country. And it's even more ironic that if you go back to work, you risk losing your Medicare and Medicaid.
I'm taking a multi vitamin daily, as that certainly can't hurt. I have crushing headaches that leave me bedridden sometimes for a week at a time. The MRI of the head shows no abnormalities. I believe chiropractic care would help, but insurance doesn't cover it, and my chiropractor is not on a bus route. I am a huge believer in chiropractic. Hmmm. I should buy some feverfew caplets and see if that helps prevent migraines or not.
"My past"
A CLASS OF HER OWN
I sure do wish I could say that it gets better but it doesn't. Unless, you find a private donor/philanthropist who has mercy on you and decides to write you a big fat check. Or, like George Bush said (i doubt i've agreed with him on any other point other than this, in his presidency!) if you want out of poverty, then marry rich!
But as the documentary "PEOPLE LIKE US" shows; it's extremely rare for people to marry outside of their socioeconomic class. "God" knows, I'm in a class of my own! My first boyfriend, Steve (81 to 83) has this amazing memory and was able to reconstruct some things about my adoptive family that I didn't recall. He told me a few months ago that my parents were" well to do" I had no concept really of what social class I was in prior to 87.
He said: (this is a paraphrase) "Elana, you're dad always drove expensive cars, your mother's closet was filled with thousands and thousands of dollars worth of furs. But your parents were two of the most selfish people I think I've ever met, as they said there was no money when you told them you desperately wanted to go to college. They fought you tooth and nail, forbade you; told you that you have to keep working so you can give them money!"
I always assumed that when we moved out of the big house in Randallstown (when I was 12) and into an apt., that it was because my parents fell into financial ruin. But Steve said that was not the case, and that my father told Steve (in about '82) that "you 2 will never want for anything, consider yourselves taken care of!" (my father assumed Steve and I would get married) Perhaps had Arnold not married Helen, I never would have had to go through all of this shit. But Helen definitely" wore the pants" in the family and controlled the finances after 1975. (She did not want to adopt me, and only adopted me so that Arnold wouldn't leave her)
Helen,( adoptive mother) drilled into me throughout my time at her house to save everything I get or earn.. Relatives put money into my account, and Helen said: save the birthday money people give you , never spend it. Well, when I turned 18, I probably would have had up to 50k in my account. I told my mother I was ready for my money, and she said: "there is nothing left, remember when you asked me for money so you could eat pizza at the mall?"
So, in 1981, I started out in the world with no savings at all. Cash poor but never really thought of myself as poor until after 1993. I had enough food and a stable address for the first 24 years of my life.
In '82 I announced my desire to go to college, but Arnold and Helen forbade me. Steve said I fell into a severe depression. He said I was miserable at my job as a medical transcriptionist, and that if my parents hadn't forbade me from going to college I would have never been mugged by those 2 men during my lunch break at my job across the street from Reisterstown Road Plaza. That's a good point.
I believe that my academic aspirations are probably genetically based, since Arnold and Helen didn't seem to have any interest in learning or reading. In 1990, my birthmother sent me a Baltimore Sun newspaper article about my biological uncle on my father's side; "THE SCRAPPY , CIGAR SMOKING MILLIONAIRE IS BACK IN JAIL!"
Anyhow, against my parents will, IN 1982, I enrolled in night school. It took me 4 years to get an a.a. degree and six more to get a Bachelors. I got through on grants, loans, my own funds, and no parental blessing. (And my father is Jewish! It's the rare American Jewish father who doesn't have high aspirations for his children.)
Bill said: that it's foolish to go into debt for a college degree. But I will never ever regret it. When you face tremendous odds in your pursuit of a goal, then reach it; you find out what you are made of!
So, my adoptive family were well to do, but didn't let me know it, and my biological family on my father's side are very, very well to do, but not in my life. (I met my bio. father 3x, but no other relatives on that side, yet) So, this is why I say I'm in a class of my own. Poor as dirt, with smarts and talent, (Go ahead, toot your own horn when no-one else will!) but needing a lucky break or large donation to live the full life that I want and deserve.........
I sure do wish I could say that it gets better but it doesn't. Unless, you find a private donor/philanthropist who has mercy on you and decides to write you a big fat check. Or, like George Bush said (i doubt i've agreed with him on any other point other than this, in his presidency!) if you want out of poverty, then marry rich!
But as the documentary "PEOPLE LIKE US" shows; it's extremely rare for people to marry outside of their socioeconomic class. "God" knows, I'm in a class of my own! My first boyfriend, Steve (81 to 83) has this amazing memory and was able to reconstruct some things about my adoptive family that I didn't recall. He told me a few months ago that my parents were" well to do" I had no concept really of what social class I was in prior to 87.
He said: (this is a paraphrase) "Elana, you're dad always drove expensive cars, your mother's closet was filled with thousands and thousands of dollars worth of furs. But your parents were two of the most selfish people I think I've ever met, as they said there was no money when you told them you desperately wanted to go to college. They fought you tooth and nail, forbade you; told you that you have to keep working so you can give them money!"
I always assumed that when we moved out of the big house in Randallstown (when I was 12) and into an apt., that it was because my parents fell into financial ruin. But Steve said that was not the case, and that my father told Steve (in about '82) that "you 2 will never want for anything, consider yourselves taken care of!" (my father assumed Steve and I would get married) Perhaps had Arnold not married Helen, I never would have had to go through all of this shit. But Helen definitely" wore the pants" in the family and controlled the finances after 1975. (She did not want to adopt me, and only adopted me so that Arnold wouldn't leave her)
Helen,( adoptive mother) drilled into me throughout my time at her house to save everything I get or earn.. Relatives put money into my account, and Helen said: save the birthday money people give you , never spend it. Well, when I turned 18, I probably would have had up to 50k in my account. I told my mother I was ready for my money, and she said: "there is nothing left, remember when you asked me for money so you could eat pizza at the mall?"
So, in 1981, I started out in the world with no savings at all. Cash poor but never really thought of myself as poor until after 1993. I had enough food and a stable address for the first 24 years of my life.
In '82 I announced my desire to go to college, but Arnold and Helen forbade me. Steve said I fell into a severe depression. He said I was miserable at my job as a medical transcriptionist, and that if my parents hadn't forbade me from going to college I would have never been mugged by those 2 men during my lunch break at my job across the street from Reisterstown Road Plaza. That's a good point.
I believe that my academic aspirations are probably genetically based, since Arnold and Helen didn't seem to have any interest in learning or reading. In 1990, my birthmother sent me a Baltimore Sun newspaper article about my biological uncle on my father's side; "THE SCRAPPY , CIGAR SMOKING MILLIONAIRE IS BACK IN JAIL!"
Anyhow, against my parents will, IN 1982, I enrolled in night school. It took me 4 years to get an a.a. degree and six more to get a Bachelors. I got through on grants, loans, my own funds, and no parental blessing. (And my father is Jewish! It's the rare American Jewish father who doesn't have high aspirations for his children.)
Bill said: that it's foolish to go into debt for a college degree. But I will never ever regret it. When you face tremendous odds in your pursuit of a goal, then reach it; you find out what you are made of!
So, my adoptive family were well to do, but didn't let me know it, and my biological family on my father's side are very, very well to do, but not in my life. (I met my bio. father 3x, but no other relatives on that side, yet) So, this is why I say I'm in a class of my own. Poor as dirt, with smarts and talent, (Go ahead, toot your own horn when no-one else will!) but needing a lucky break or large donation to live the full life that I want and deserve.........
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Edited version of letter sent to adam while "homeless" in 11/95
(federal govt definition of homeless is "lack of fixed nightime residence")
11/7/95 dark at 4:30 p.m. now!
Blah!
Dear Adam,
I'm a nervous wreck right now, an aimless leaf in the wind. You would not (or maybe you would) believe the mess I'm in.
The last time I talked to you I was staying @"Sandy's" house and working p/t for Goodwill. I stayed with Sandy until the end of September. The conditions at Goodwill were crazy! I had four supervisors in 2.5 weeks! There were more people working there under "alternative sentencing" than there were paid employees!
The mall that the Goodwill is in is usually deserted. The poor arrangement of Goodwill made us a prime target for hold ups. Many customers seemed shady.
I put an ad up @Village Market health food store seeking a barter for rent situation (due to my poverty) No one answered for 6 weeks. By the third week of September I received some calls. One call was from a man named "Ralph" (a Sufi-Muslim) who was married to a woman named Sarah. They had a baby as well as 2 non-related adult female boarders living in their home. They lived in a very dangerous section of Baltimore called Windsor Hills. (Technically, Windsor Hills itself is an elite, historic enclave surrounded by very high crime neighborhoods) While staying there I heard gunfire on a nightly basis.
Ralph, about 50 y.o. had a shelf full of books on white supremacy. He looked @ me in a weird seductive sort of way when Sarah wasn't around. Sarah, 40, was a stressed out new mother, subjugated by Ralph. Sarah was controlling and disrespectul of me.
I loved her 22 month old, Maya, who was highly intelligent and perceptive. So much so that she screamed when forced to stay with her father! I helped care for Maya and another baby while doing some housework in exchange for rent. Not paying rent really sets one up for exploitation. My room was in the basement. It was not unusual for them to have company. I'd typically retreat to the basement, not feeling welcome.
I kept my p.t job @ Goodwill, coming at the price of a four hour round trip bus commute.
When I got my job offer from "Hell's Bell's" (you don't think a.c. d.c. will sue me for this name change do you?!) an organization serving the developmentally disabled) I left Ralph and Sarah's place accepting a full time live in position out of desperation for an income. I couldn't get any of the other social work positions that I applied for because I didn't have a car.
My new live in job is on the border of Pikesville and Randallstwon, a 10 minute walk from the subway station. I was a house manager for 3 developmentally disabled adults with major behavioral problems. One was mentallly ill with retardation, one had an organic anxiety disorder with obsessive compulsive behavior and the third was severely mentally retarded and yelled alot.
The job was supposed to be 40 hours a week but ended up averaging 70 to 100 hours a week! It was highly stressful and very exploitative. I got no sleep and always felt like I was on the verge of a heart attack, nervous breakdown or both.
Hell's Bell's asked me to sign a contract. It promised me 30 days written notice before dismissing me; yet the idiots put me out on the street on the morning of Weds. Nov. 1 with no notice (making me homeless yet again) Thank goodness I was able to call Sandy and she picked me up again! I'm a genuine bag lady! S. let me stay at her house for one night and then I was forced to call Samson (an Orthodox Jew in Randallstwon who was a history of mental illness) for housing!
I moved in with him on the night of Thursday Nov. 2nd. He's really controlling too. He has no job and sits around telling me bad jokes all day. He has all of these strange rules for the kitchen like keeping his own brand of Kosher and Veganism. I can't bring ANYTHING into his house which even remotely contains animal or dairy products! Needless to say, I AM going hungry.
He is totally overbearing and critical of everyone and everything. Yet, he likes me so much that he is willing to take me around on interviews-etc. etc. I asked him if he could take me to a meeting tonight and he said yes; then he changed his mind! That made me really angry because I'm so socially isolated and I was trying to get to a support group. He brought me to the library tonight, but decided to stay here with me! So, I'm hiding in an aisle writing you this letter!
I feel I've been imprisoned for the past 2 years since the hardest part of the poverty hit. Without a car, I'm like a prisoner.
The library closes in 6 minutes, I'll try to finish in that time but if I can't I'll continue the letter at "home." Adam it doesn't make sense for me stay in slimy Baltimore with no job.
11/8/95 Weds. 2:55 p.m.
I am at Owings Mills Mall. I just had an interview with American Eagle Outfitters. (My interviewer was very sweet, very beautiful, about 25, from West Virginia) I was honest with her about having been fired from Hell's Bells. She appreciated my honesty. I applied for a stocking position because I can't handle the fast pace of customer service. She said she'll call my references and then get back to me. Since I don't want to sit around Samson's house all day and have him constantly demanding my attention, this would get me out of the house.
It's kind of weird that out of one side of Samson's mouth he says that he'd really like to see me move forward in life and wants me to live in his house as long as possible; yet he nitpicks (like obsessive compulsve cleanliness) to no end. He says that he'll be a reference for me as his "live-in social worker" even though I never agreed to be that to him! He claims that I'm one of the most special people he's ever met and that I'm a real mensch who has a therapeutic effect on him, but he makes me a nervous wreck! He tells me that no one in the Jewish community or anywhere else for that matter,likes him.
He's fighting a legal battle over his mother's house and he's trying to get me totally involved. He hates his sister who came to his deceased mother's house and according to him STOLE furniture, a computer and more. He says there is a chance that we could both get evicted with no notice! I can never count on ANY security in my life!
I'd like to move somewhere warm, not hot or cold. I have no strong ties here in Baltimore. Samson is giving me "free" rent. I'd really like to go west. I'd like to spend about 1 week in Lafayette.
I have only made it to church 2 times in 5 months because of having no transportation. I've made practically no new friends.
I'm 32 and and my life is passing me by. I need to find a reason to go on living. There is so much hatred and killing here in Baltimore that it gives me no faith in the human race.
Love,
Elana
11/7/95 dark at 4:30 p.m. now!
Blah!
Dear Adam,
I'm a nervous wreck right now, an aimless leaf in the wind. You would not (or maybe you would) believe the mess I'm in.
The last time I talked to you I was staying @"Sandy's" house and working p/t for Goodwill. I stayed with Sandy until the end of September. The conditions at Goodwill were crazy! I had four supervisors in 2.5 weeks! There were more people working there under "alternative sentencing" than there were paid employees!
The mall that the Goodwill is in is usually deserted. The poor arrangement of Goodwill made us a prime target for hold ups. Many customers seemed shady.
I put an ad up @Village Market health food store seeking a barter for rent situation (due to my poverty) No one answered for 6 weeks. By the third week of September I received some calls. One call was from a man named "Ralph" (a Sufi-Muslim) who was married to a woman named Sarah. They had a baby as well as 2 non-related adult female boarders living in their home. They lived in a very dangerous section of Baltimore called Windsor Hills. (Technically, Windsor Hills itself is an elite, historic enclave surrounded by very high crime neighborhoods) While staying there I heard gunfire on a nightly basis.
Ralph, about 50 y.o. had a shelf full of books on white supremacy. He looked @ me in a weird seductive sort of way when Sarah wasn't around. Sarah, 40, was a stressed out new mother, subjugated by Ralph. Sarah was controlling and disrespectul of me.
I loved her 22 month old, Maya, who was highly intelligent and perceptive. So much so that she screamed when forced to stay with her father! I helped care for Maya and another baby while doing some housework in exchange for rent. Not paying rent really sets one up for exploitation. My room was in the basement. It was not unusual for them to have company. I'd typically retreat to the basement, not feeling welcome.
I kept my p.t job @ Goodwill, coming at the price of a four hour round trip bus commute.
When I got my job offer from "Hell's Bell's" (you don't think a.c. d.c. will sue me for this name change do you?!) an organization serving the developmentally disabled) I left Ralph and Sarah's place accepting a full time live in position out of desperation for an income. I couldn't get any of the other social work positions that I applied for because I didn't have a car.
My new live in job is on the border of Pikesville and Randallstwon, a 10 minute walk from the subway station. I was a house manager for 3 developmentally disabled adults with major behavioral problems. One was mentallly ill with retardation, one had an organic anxiety disorder with obsessive compulsive behavior and the third was severely mentally retarded and yelled alot.
The job was supposed to be 40 hours a week but ended up averaging 70 to 100 hours a week! It was highly stressful and very exploitative. I got no sleep and always felt like I was on the verge of a heart attack, nervous breakdown or both.
Hell's Bell's asked me to sign a contract. It promised me 30 days written notice before dismissing me; yet the idiots put me out on the street on the morning of Weds. Nov. 1 with no notice (making me homeless yet again) Thank goodness I was able to call Sandy and she picked me up again! I'm a genuine bag lady! S. let me stay at her house for one night and then I was forced to call Samson (an Orthodox Jew in Randallstwon who was a history of mental illness) for housing!
I moved in with him on the night of Thursday Nov. 2nd. He's really controlling too. He has no job and sits around telling me bad jokes all day. He has all of these strange rules for the kitchen like keeping his own brand of Kosher and Veganism. I can't bring ANYTHING into his house which even remotely contains animal or dairy products! Needless to say, I AM going hungry.
He is totally overbearing and critical of everyone and everything. Yet, he likes me so much that he is willing to take me around on interviews-etc. etc. I asked him if he could take me to a meeting tonight and he said yes; then he changed his mind! That made me really angry because I'm so socially isolated and I was trying to get to a support group. He brought me to the library tonight, but decided to stay here with me! So, I'm hiding in an aisle writing you this letter!
I feel I've been imprisoned for the past 2 years since the hardest part of the poverty hit. Without a car, I'm like a prisoner.
The library closes in 6 minutes, I'll try to finish in that time but if I can't I'll continue the letter at "home." Adam it doesn't make sense for me stay in slimy Baltimore with no job.
11/8/95 Weds. 2:55 p.m.
I am at Owings Mills Mall. I just had an interview with American Eagle Outfitters. (My interviewer was very sweet, very beautiful, about 25, from West Virginia) I was honest with her about having been fired from Hell's Bells. She appreciated my honesty. I applied for a stocking position because I can't handle the fast pace of customer service. She said she'll call my references and then get back to me. Since I don't want to sit around Samson's house all day and have him constantly demanding my attention, this would get me out of the house.
It's kind of weird that out of one side of Samson's mouth he says that he'd really like to see me move forward in life and wants me to live in his house as long as possible; yet he nitpicks (like obsessive compulsve cleanliness) to no end. He says that he'll be a reference for me as his "live-in social worker" even though I never agreed to be that to him! He claims that I'm one of the most special people he's ever met and that I'm a real mensch who has a therapeutic effect on him, but he makes me a nervous wreck! He tells me that no one in the Jewish community or anywhere else for that matter,likes him.
He's fighting a legal battle over his mother's house and he's trying to get me totally involved. He hates his sister who came to his deceased mother's house and according to him STOLE furniture, a computer and more. He says there is a chance that we could both get evicted with no notice! I can never count on ANY security in my life!
I'd like to move somewhere warm, not hot or cold. I have no strong ties here in Baltimore. Samson is giving me "free" rent. I'd really like to go west. I'd like to spend about 1 week in Lafayette.
I have only made it to church 2 times in 5 months because of having no transportation. I've made practically no new friends.
I'm 32 and and my life is passing me by. I need to find a reason to go on living. There is so much hatred and killing here in Baltimore that it gives me no faith in the human race.
Love,
Elana
"get out while you're still alive" 11/5/07
I am so terrified of being murdered that I have stopped sleeping. I have been conducting a very aggressive housing search for the last 9 weeks, to no avail.
I had a bit of a nervous breakdown last night and called a friend in Brooklyn, MD. who said I could stay with him in an emergency situation.
Problem is in Brooklyn, MD I could not survive without a car. So even less of a life than the life I already have. But if I drop my section 8 apt. that will give me a better chance of being able to get a car more quickly in that I'll have a few months in Brooklyn where I won't have to pay rent..................
This really, really sucks. I'd feel safe at this friend's house, I just wouldn't have a life.
I had a bit of a nervous breakdown last night and called a friend in Brooklyn, MD. who said I could stay with him in an emergency situation.
Problem is in Brooklyn, MD I could not survive without a car. So even less of a life than the life I already have. But if I drop my section 8 apt. that will give me a better chance of being able to get a car more quickly in that I'll have a few months in Brooklyn where I won't have to pay rent..................
This really, really sucks. I'd feel safe at this friend's house, I just wouldn't have a life.
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