I have spent all day trying to fix housing. Hours and hours, calling, meeting, begging for mercy. Persuading.
I think I have fixed it. I don’t dare talk in absolutes.
I think we will be able to stay in San Francisco, and that ways have been found around obstacles.
What is not fair, what is absolutely not ok is that someone who was not as able to advocate for themselves, who didn’t have the strength to push back, who perhaps wasn’t lucky enough to be able to express themselves clearly and calmly would have not had the same result.
I have survivor’s guilt big time this evening. What happens next for me is going to be dependent on a cascade of small interactions and tasks being completed, and obstacles being overcome. If I don’t keep on the ball, I will just drift at best. At worst I will drift off to sea…or Sacramento: either is a fate I do not wish to have to confront.
I have a plan, a list of people who need calling, and a list of things I need to do. That was my entire day.
There needs to be a fairer system that keeps families in the area that they are embedded within, within their communities and doesn’t require people to be capable of fighting their corner.
..In other notes, I want to be able to smoke a joint and play (acoustic very quietly) guitar after 7pm without being told off like a kid. I want to cook a hot meal in a kitchen, instead of hiding a rice cooker like a con in a cell. I would like a little tiny dog and a desk to write at. I wouldn’t say no to a room of my own. I just want normality…and I guess I am going to have to fight for it tooth and nail.