Becoming Content...

When I was on my way back to Providence from Pittsfield just a few days ago, I ran into this young man. He seemed intriguing and there were not many seats available in the coffee shop so I had to share a table with someone. This young man seemed very harmless, so I approached him and sat down with his approval.

He was an open and nice person who was willing to share backgrounds. Very quickly I noticed that he seemed to suffer from a mild form of Autism, or possibly some other mild disorder, but regardless, he was very, very alert. Apparently, he was originally from Northern California and he strived to become an actor.

Hearing that he was so interested in acting I reacted by asking why he had not stayed in Cali for this dream, but Cali was too much to handle for him. Some of his close relatives had been living in the Western Massachusetts area and so he moved out to the more remote area.

This man was only living at the YMCA and attending the local community college, but he was super content; just living the relaxed lifestyle and slowly making his life come together. He was proudly conquering his disability with very efficient communication skills and acting in various local and school based plays.

I had on my long white blazer, so he asked me if I was a doctor, although I had already told him that I worked for a bank corportation, but it made me chuckle that he used his imagination like that.


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Just last week, one of my closest friends informed me that her 6 year old sister was diagnosed with Austism. Again, it was a mild form...but the way I see it after the above experience is that on the plus side, these individuals will conquer a greater task in life. They can be content in a more calm enviroment versus the hectic lifestyle that many of us choose to subject ourselves to.

Ignoring Those That Will Disappear

Glances made as we pass each other by
A breath that was held and I ask myself why
I turned because of who I was with, as you did the same
A friendship that is now lost, with everyone to blame
Laughter that will never be heard within one of our conversations
A chuckle of mockery at the uncountable hesitations
Quick repetitive steps, making us travel farther
A word never said, since no one even bothered
Maybe a mistake that made an enormous difference
A happening that changed everything in the known presence

Those Who are Referenced as "Squatters"

After reading the two books which are in my previous post, my memory was rekindled as to an intriguing conversation that I had a little under two years ago.

A friend of mine was working at the newer pizza place which is located on Broadway right by B-Sharp music. At that time, I had also held an apartment right upstairs from this establishment. So, I traveled downstairs to chat with my friend and ended up sitting at a table. A rather modest man was seated at the table next to me enjoying a nice plate of pasta. Randomly, he decided to start a conversation with me. The conversation was very casual as he proceeded to speak with me about a movie that had to do with rats taking over the world. I expressed to him how I had never heard of such a movie, but being the older individual that he was, told me it was before my time and had come out in the early 80's. This man was a nice guy I thought, very personable, even though he was rather grundgy. I would say that he was in his mid to late 40s and was a construction worker so he looked rather worn down. Once our conversation was finished, he strolled out of the area and walked to his home.

My friend came over to me shortly after this encounter. Apparently this fellow came in every day for his 1 meal that he could afford. He was a "squatter" and lived in an abandoned house up the road by Vinton Street. Instantaneously, I started to feel remorse for this nice individual who was trying to make it in Providence. My buddy told me not to worry since this guy had it "all right": he drank all he wanted, had a roof over his head, had a close friend that squatted with him, and he was content with his life. That short conversation that I had with this man though, stuck with me, and I could not help but feel like I had made a connection with him.

Around only a week later I heard shocking news. This friendly squatter had passed away in a fire. The abandoned home they had been staying in was what had caught aflame. The two men had been drinking and smoking inside of this boarded up building when they knocked over a candle and the fire ignited from inside. A padlock had been placed on the inside of the apartment to keep outsiders from getting in. As a result, the key could not be found in time to unlock the door and get out of this trap. These men suffocated and died within the buliding they were squatting in.

I asked my friend to visit their old home with me a few days later. On the lonely boards of this washed up home were messages to their lost souls. Messages from the few friends that had known the conditions in which these struggling men were living by. On the diminishing front steps were weathered away flowers brought by stragglers. I said a few prayers and we continued on our way.

It is shocking how quickly someone can meet a person, and how within a couple of days discover they will never see that individual again.

This instance is one of the few occurances that I can say truly impacted my life. Although it is a unfortionate event to an extent; it is still one that I am extremely grateful to have experienced. It was an eye-opener to the portion of our population that people chose to ignore.

Books to Hold Onto and Remember

The Glass Castle is an unbelieveable memoir. This story is so real with such strong emphasis on the situation, that it is hard for one to believe that the entire tale is based on a true story. The aurthor recounts everything from childhood (down to the age of 3) with such precision.

The basis of the story is a family of 4 children and two parents who struggle through poverty. Their poverty not only stems from bad decisions about credit, but from the choice of living the simple life over extravagance. Within the possession of the family is property and physical items which can be sold for millions, but instead the head of the household choses to live under run-down rooftops and in less than adaquate neighborhoods.

Told in the author's voice and point of view, you follow her artistic mother (whose ideas of wealth are beyond skin deep), her alcohol father, and her three siblings through their varying and solidifying lives.

A book of this context is great for readers who are from both fortionate and less fortionate backgrounds. If you feel that your childhood was bad, then read this book and you may beg to differ. If you are striving to learn about those who are bad off, but fail to see themselves this way, then this may change you perspective on the homeless and the struggling.

Another similar book to consider is Living at the Edge of the World. This book is a fictional text, but seems very real due to its context. In this novel, one follows one girl through her struggle to leave her troubled home, and as a result she ends up living in Grand Central Train Station of New York. The chapters alternate, with every other chapter being in the past and present. From her broken home life to her present situation on the streets of New York City. Situations which happen to this sixteen year old girl are unforgettable and plot of this book with stick with you for years. I read this book ad wrote a 14 page thesis on it 7 years ago, but remember it like I read it only a few months ago. Unfortionately, this book is very hard to find, and one must order it online due to the limited amount of copies now available.
More information on either of these great books can be found at Amazon.

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Never settle...especially from someone who makes you want to say your ex-boyfriends name. I've made this mistake

Two Years Later

by Susan Jacobs

[Picture take on August 15, 2007 in San Franciso, CA]

Two years later…
Where are the antagonizing words?
Slipping through your ash-ridden lips
How about the safety of your grasp?
Overtaken by your thrashing

I miss you laugh
I miss you smile
That was hidden by this rancid substance
As you fell through my fingers
Further and further
So far away
When does love have to retract?
Pills scatter on the hardwood floor
Each with a distinctive patter
But you saw nothing wrong
With the pocket rattle
This was all too familiar
Although, you missed the gasps
As I would watch you wince
As you attempted fakeness
One forced, flaky, outer contentment
Untouchable after the sun went down
Other times, worse when it has risen
Found by lovers in worst- care scenarios
Bashed on the floor by oneself
With that haunting hospital ring
Somewhere I could not go
Because you were no longer mine
By your dismissive angst
Alcohol became your new girl
Nude and welcoming
Only she treated you much differently
Gaining your sad dependence
Your mind and body
Until fully stripped, gone, and literally wasted
Permanent love was ultimately tainted.